Make the World Move

Angel

My interview is over the phone and there’s no reason why I need to be in my office, but it feels more professional. Like I’ll be taken more seriously. Genie has been walked, watered, and snuggled into contentment, so I’m ready for whatever comes my way.

Nervousness isn’t a familiar feeling for me because I learned to go with the flow a long time ago and trust in what I offer. Nevertheless, I am on edge about this. It’s been nearly two weeks since I sent out my resumes and applications and have gotten very few responses back, so part of me feels like my hiatus since graduating is a major turnoff for employers. The graphics I emailed to this company earlier will have to speak for themselves because of the eight advertising companies within walking distance, this was the only one to reply. I can’t miss this chance.

My phone rings at 2pm on the dot, so I waste no time answering it. The man’s raspy voice on the other end is difficult to hear, but after our greetings, he gets right to the hard-hitting questions. Typical things like school, what I’m strongest at, where my weaknesses are, and any potential events in my life that could derail my career—AKA the “politically correct” way of asking a woman if she’s pregnant or plans to become pregnant in the near future. Hard eye roll.

The man on the other end gives nothing away in terms of emotion, so I have no idea where I stand with him by the time the interview ends, but I think it went well.

I text Hannah, Vida, and Dina to let them know how it went, because they were all waiting eagerly for me to report back. All three text back immediately, saying they’re confident I’ll get the job. Perks of having unemployed friends. Good news is, Vida has an interview at a sports bar near her house as a bartender, but Hannah is still having no luck. I feel terrible that they both left a stable—albeit horrible—job on my account. Dina, on the other hand, still doesn’t seem to be putting that much effort into seeking meaningful employment… or any employment at all. She’s content to be a stay-at-home dog-mom to Nacho while she finishes her degree.

Once my girls are informed, I ring Damian, hoping he’s not too busy to pick up. How he became such an important person that I feel inclined to keep him up to date with the goings-on in my life, I’m not sure, but here we are.

“Hey. How’d it go?” he answers, out of breath.

“Did I… uh… catch you in the middle of something?”

“My staff are scared of me, remember? I took the stairs instead of torturing them with my presence in the elevator.”

I chuckle because Damian is a likeable guy—very likeable. No one could genuinely hate him if they got to know him. “Have you ever thought maybe you’re reading too much into people’s reactions, and if you were just honest with them, they’d be more receptive?”

A door closes behind him and our reception improves. “I’ve told them time and time again that I have an open-door policy and that I want honest feedback.”

“Yes, but saying it and implementing it are two different things. Give a little if you want to get in return.”

He breathes out a sigh, and I take that to mean he’s arrived to wherever he was headed. “I’ll try. So, how did your interview go? I’ve got a video call in a few minutes, so I’m sorry if I have to cut you short.”

“Not all of us can be gainfully unemployed, Mr. Taylor. I understand.”

He chuckles into the phone, making me smile.

I lean down and rub genie’s soft blockhead, soaking in a moment of contentment. “The interview was fine. I did what I could, but he didn’t seem too excited. He said he’ll let me know either way on Monday.”

“I have a good feeling about this one. This is the start of a new career for you.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s a competitive industry.” I glance out the window at the sun shining and hear the bustling on the street below. Suddenly I’m overcome with the need to get out of my house and soak in some vitamin D. “I should let you get back to work.”

“Yeah, I have to go.”

I’m disappointed hearing his words, even though I knew he was at work.

“Angel?”

“Yeah?”

“Let me take you out tonight. To celebrate your interview.”

I’m not surprised he asked. I figured over the past several weeks of talking regularly that this was coming, and I really wanted it to. When I’m working again, I may not have the same opportunity or freedom to go out when I want. This time, the answer is obvious. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

When he replies, I can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“It’s a date.”

What do I wear on a date? I don’t have the slightest clue. The last time I went on a “date”, it was to a beer festival, and I wore cut-off shorts and a Rolling Stones T-shirt. I’ve never been invested enough in another person to care if I looked nice. I’d gotten into the habit of assuming everyone wouldn’t be interested in me once they realized I’m not the type to fake nice or go out of my way to please people. The past few years, I’ve wanted to date, but never found anyone worth investing in. Hence why there were plenty of firsts, but no seconds. Damian is different.

I rummage through my closet, tossing options on my bed, but when I return to them, holding each one up in front of me, none seem right. Back to the closet, I dig through the untouched items in the far corner and find a dress I bought three years ago to attend a wedding. The bride and groom went their separate ways three days before, and I never wore it. It was just a casual backyard affair, so the dress is pretty, but not extravagant. Now seems like a good time to dust it off and give it some sunlight.

My hair leaves me with few options in terms of styling, so I tame my natural curls, swipe on some mascara and a champagne-coloured eyeshadow, then slip into my dress twenty minutes before Damian is supposed to arrive.

I strap on a pair of heels I don’t often wear because I walk everywhere, but tonight I’ll take advantage of driving wherever we’re going. The strappy gold stilettos help me reach average height for a woman my age, which is a nice change. Maybe now I’ll be eye-level with Damian’s chin instead of his chest.

When I glance at myself in the mirror, the girl staring back at me looks nervous. I twist and turn, trying to pose in ways that make me look less anxious, but it is obvious from every angle. What’s wrong with me? This isn’t the first time I’ve been around Damian. He’s been in my house before. Being alone with him isn’t a new concept, and besides, we’ll be somewhere in public with tons of other people. What’s the big deal?

Before I can stress about it any more, there’s a knock at my door, sending Genie tearing across the living space, down the hallway.

“Genie, don’t jump all over him this time, okay?” I look at my dog, waiting for her to nod and agree, but she’s too busy wagging her entire body to acknowledge me. Something tells me she didn’t listen to a word I said.