Chapter Nine

THERE COMES A point where more caffeine does not mean more concentration, but, in fact, less. And I was pretty sure I’d crossed that line upwards of two cups ago, but it was too late now—I was awake, yes, I was so awake. But I was also bouncing between ten different projects and the audit, trying to find anything capable of holding my attention for longer than five seconds.

Then my phone buzzed, and I immediately looked down at it.

Rachael: Hey girl, what are you up to this evening? Want to get together?

“Oh, man. Oh, no.” With everything on my plate today and my horrible ability to concentrate, hanging with her wasn’t happening. I’d be lucky if I was home before it was pitch-black night.

Ann: I’m sorry. Tonight isn’t good… I have too much to do. Another night okay?

Rachael: Another night for sure.

I pushed my phone across my desk in an effort to push away the disappointment and guilt of having to turn Rachael down. Now, I had to get some work done, to prove to myself it had been the right thing to do. But not even a few minutes into frowning at my computer screen, someone stopped by my desk.

“Hey, Ann, is this day driving you as bonkers as it’s driving me?” Chelsea picked at her nails, leaning on the side of my cube.

“It kind of is.”

“Yeah. Ugh. The worst.”

With the way she lingered, she wanted to talk. My updates could wait ten minutes. “Let’s go on a walk?”

“Please.”

As soon as we got out of earshot of the other cubes, I raised my eyebrow at her and waited for her to lay into her topic of the day.

“I don’t know, I just…” she started, her voice dying with a huff of defeat.

“Go on.”

“When I got this job two years ago, I thought I’d be…you know. Working on a team. Together. Toward a common goal. Not this competition, with everyone watching their backs, wondering who’s going to get promoted. It’s like I’m fighting for my worthiness on my team, while still fighting to manage my customers’ expectations, and I didn’t really sign up for either of those things.”

That was some heavy stuff, and the truth of it resonated in my chest when I breathed deep. “Old Georgie knows how to keep us motivated, even if it’s a shit tactic. But it doesn’t mean we don’t still get projects finished and make clients happy. At least, if you like that part of your job.”

We strode past the break room, and farther down the hall to the back half of the building. This took us past the cubicle farm of one of the other departments, this one full of people on the phone with clients—the customer service reps.

Chelsea gave me a weak smile. “I do, I guess. But when half this job is busywork and the other half is intricate tasks that are impossible to remember, the competition is…annoying.”

I chuckled, because god how right she was. “Is that not most midlevel business jobs though?”

“Is it? Why do I want to be in this field again?”

“Because it pays well?” I laughed, and she at least smiled. We passed through the back entrance of the building into the shocking hot of the afternoon, the heat hitting in waves against my chest, causing me to suck in a breath.

Chelsea grimaced. “Holy shit, isn’t it fall by now?”

“Fresh air is still good for you, regardless of the temperature.”

She rolled her eyes at me, and her heels clicked loudly on the concrete. “If my makeup starts melting, I am going to blame you.”

I stuck my tongue out at her, and we slowly made our way around the outside of the building. Across the street, the Ani-min post called to me, but I fought the itch to get out my phone.

“So, you’ve been putting in a lot of hours,” Chelsea said, her words gentle over the sounds of cars going by and the scratching of leaves in wind. “Is it the audit, or do you want the promotion?”

“The audit more than anything else,” I said, scrunching my nose. “But that doesn’t mean the promotion hasn’t been on my mind.”

“The overtime will look good. If it wasn’t for my night classes, I’d be putting some time in myself.”

“You want the promotion?”

Chelsea nodded at me with a wide-eyed of course, and I stared at the concrete while we walked. “Not that I have a chance,” she finally said.

“You don’t think so?”

“Are you kidding?” She huffed out a laugh. “Compared to you and David and Grant and Bolin…pretty much anyone who’s been at the company longer than me…”

I shook my head. “You’re underplaying your ability.”

She crossed her arms. “This is what happens when they have us competing against each other though. It’s just an endless stream of comparison and self-judgment.”

She had a point, and I’d maybe been too caught up in the audit to recognize it. “What can we do but wait until someone is picked and things sort of go back to normal?”

We walked back into the air-conditioned office then, and simultaneously took gulps of cool air, the temperature difference almost shocking.

“Why is it so cold in the office? Isn’t this a waste of power?” I mused, but Chelsea clearly wasn’t changing the subject as she shrugged, her lips still in a pout.

“We can try not to take it all personally, I guess,” she said.

I nodded slowly, and she gave me a shy smile. Before we reached the cubes, she let out a sigh. “Either you or David is going to get it.”

“I don’t know.”

She shook her head. “Are you really putting in most of your hours because of the audit?”

“Well, yeah. I have, like, no time for the rest of my projects.”

“You need to talk to George about that. That’s not right,” she said, frowning.

I grimaced—the excuse of “Talking to George is scary” shouldn’t be legitimate, but it still filtered through me.

“Think about it,” she said before heading to her cube.

I settled at my desk, Chelsea’s conversation churning around in my head as I glanced through my newest emails. I hadn’t really noticed the competition ramp up since our meeting the other week announcing the prospective promotion, but I had also been entirely focused on my own workload. Chelsea worked just as hard as any of us and stood a chance. She needed some confidence in her ability, unless this job wasn’t going to make her happy.

And what about my issues? She was right about my workload being abnormal; I knew it had been for some time and still hadn’t acted on it. George probably assumed I was overworking for the promotion. Taking a deep breath, I composed an email to George, asking to have our next one-on-one sooner rather than later. I’d bring it up then.

If I had the nerve to.

 

AFTER A FEW days of Rachael and I missing each other at the park, I was on edge with wanting to spend time with her. Spreadsheets and dollar signs were leaking out of my ears, and nothing sounded better than a leisurely stroll, catching mini-animals with her, or a late-night snuggle on the couch. I got back from walking Franny one evening, and as I whipped up something quick for dinner, fired off a text to see what Rachael was up to.

It was after dinner and twenty minutes into a TV show that she finally texted me back.

Rachael: Oh my god, Ann. Kids. They can be fine one second and completely sick the next. Connor has a fever. I don’t want to get you sick or anything, so we better get together another time.

“Poor little guy,” I said, causing Franny to cock her head at me.

Ann: Another time for sure. Hope he feels better soon.

I resumed my show and tried to put my growing need for Rachael on hold, but after another episode and a half, the apartment was stifling in its loneliness.

“Late-night walk, Franny?”

She perked her head up. She’d always be up for that.

The cooling evening air was a welcome respite from the heat of the day still trapped in my apartment. We made the rounds of the apartment complex, following the zigzagging paths around the buildings and hitting all of Franny’s favorite short-walk spots.

This dating-a-single-mom thing was harder than I thought it would be. I didn’t want to keep postponing and postponing, even when I knew this was the way things would be, and that I had to give Rachael the freedom to bail, to postpone, to change plans—up to last minute. But I missed her—an ache in my gut and a loneliness gripping me hard. I wanted her. And the little voice in the back of my head kept saying, maybe if she cared more, she’d make it work. The thought hurt enough that I couldn’t figure out if it was true anymore.

I had planned to head back to my apartment after a round or two, and eventually headed toward my stairwell—and my phone rang. It was Rachael. I immediately thought of sick Connor and fumbled to answer the phone quickly, alarm clear in my voice.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“Oh—yes? Did you think I was calling because something was wrong with Connor? Oh, goodness. I’m sorry!”

“You’ve never called before,” I admitted, my heart still recovering.

“Those are some natural mothering instincts you have there,” Rachael said with a chuckle, and the heat rising in my cheeks made the breeze feel colder. I led Franny past my stairwell to round the complex one more time.

“That’s what my mom always said.” I sighed. “But what’s up? Are you okay?”

“Ah, yeah… I just really needed to talk to someone, and I wanted to talk to you. So here I am.”

I stuck my phone in the crook of my neck so Franny would pull the leash against my other hand. “I’m happy to hear from you.”

“See, that right there is why I wanted to call you. I’m going to feel like a broken record saying this, but there’s something so lonely about being a single parent. And I feel like you get it. Or, at the very least, you listen, and it means so much.”

“I’m happy to listen.” Is that all I’m good for though? Someone to listen to her vent? “But what makes it lonely?”

“Well, we can look at tonight where I’ve banished you to keep you from getting sick. We can look at the past few weeks where I couldn’t get my shit together enough for us to go on two whole dates. Everyone’s got their own things going on—my mom works half the evenings in a week, and my sister’s in New York, and my coworkers either have grown kids or no kids at all yet. God, I’m sorry, I’m droning on and on.”

She was, but the sound of her voice worked its way deep into my core, its tone stirring my worry but its undeniable Rachaelness giving me a deep comfort, despite the doubtful nagging of the voice in my head. But how to put that into words?

“I’m honored you drone on and on to me.”

“Oh my god, Ann.” Her tone sounded almost dismissive. “I’m worried we’re on totally different planes here. Like, you have your successful job, and you’re independent, and I’m over here living in a perpetual first grade where my life is school and soccer and cleaning the house and cleaning my department at work. I don’t feel like I’m going anywhere in my life or able to do anything for me. Let alone for us! Why do you want to deal with everything I have that keeps us from dating normally?”

I wrapped an arm around my chest as Franny stopped to smell the roses, literally. I pushed past the wave of but I do want to date normally to what I really wanted to say: “Because I think it’s worth it.”

“Ann,” she said softly, and the phone burst with a rustling static for a few moments. I waited, letting Franny pull me on, not sure what Rachael was going to say next. “I don’t know how I can keep doing this when we can’t spend time together. And I can’t help but feel like you’re probably lying to me about being so accepting of my failures.”

I fought a wave of anger at her words. “I’m trying to be sincere with you—why would you think I’m lying?”

Rachael sucked in a breath, but I kept going.

“At any rate, when I finish the audit and my hours go back to normal, we could hang any evening you’re free. See, it’s not just your schedule we need to work around.”

“I’m—I’m sorry. You’re right.” She sighed heavily. “But I don’t want you to feel obliged to me.”

“I don’t! I mean, I’m choosing this. But…” Maybe I needed to change the subject. Her words from earlier floated back through me. “Do you really feel like you can’t do anything for yourself?”

“Every day. Playing Ani-min while Connor’s at the park is one of my few respites.”

“What would you want to be able to do, if you could?” I asked as Franny turned toward the street.

“I don’t know. Some sort of hobby? Like art. Or sewing. Or I’d get a manicure or take a class at the community college. I have no idea, and I don’t have the time, mentally, to figure it out. Because my brain is so often full— Is Connor eating healthy, is his homework done, is he getting enough sleep, is the house clean, do I have the money for bills, is my mom okay? What do I have to do today at work? I can’t get any further than that.”

She didn’t mention me? I turned Franny around to head back up the street. “I know it’s not the same thing, but when I’m absorbed with work, I feel like that about the rest of my life too.”

“And, god, I didn’t say wanting this relationship with you! That’s how much I can’t hold it all in my head at once.”

I tried not to feel pushed out of shape that she didn’t acknowledge I had my struggles too. “You shouldn’t have to hold it all in your head,” I urged, wishing I could practice what I preached as well.

“But I do! Who else can do it if I don’t? It’s just me!”

Rachael had gotten loud during our exchange, and I listened as she huffed a breath and let out a stifled sob. I stayed quiet, as It’ll be okay might not be appreciated at the moment.

“It’s just me, and I’m tired of it.”

“How about us?” I asked, my voice breathy from the weight of what I meant, not sure if she’d get it over the phone. Franny stopped at our stairwell, and I nodded at her to head up.

“Us?” Rachael asked, almost at a squeak.

“Yes. How about you and me? Girlfriends. In it together.” I let Franny in and took off her leash, the excited scuttling of her nails on tile making it harder to hear Rachael’s response.

“I really like you” was what it sounded like.

“I really like you too. You’ve become an important part of my life,” I said, this confirmation of our feelings for each other both affirming and scary.

“I feel that way, too, but with everything going on, I don’t know if I could be a good girlfriend? I’m going to cry.”

I frowned, sitting on the couch and tucking one leg underneath me. “Don’t cry?”

“God, I’m so emotional. But after I had Connor, I wasn’t sure I’d ever have my life together enough to find someone again.”

“And then you did an Ani-min raid.”

We laughed, but her voice was still tense.

“Can I really ask you to help me with all my baggage when you have everything in your own life?” she asked.

“Isn’t that a relationship though? Helping each other, sharing the load.”

“But—”

“But what? If we’re going to make this work between us you need to be okay with your shit getting in the way of us, and my shit getting in the way, too, you know?”

“But I don’t want that. I want the freedom for us to do whatever we want, whenever we want.”

I shook my head, because my god, we felt the same about this, but didn’t that mean she was being really irresponsible to her obligations? “I don’t think life works like that.”

“Sorry, Mother.”

I grimaced, because she said it without the playfulness I would have expected such a jab to have. She didn’t seem to be listening to me, or hearing my side, and with her as flustered as she was, I didn’t know how to press the matter.

As I was trying to figure out how to respond, Franny rested her head on my lap and looked up at me with those big brown eyes full of concern.

I know you can feel how upset that made me, I thought to her.

Rachael finally continued. “God, I’m sorry. I’m just gonna…I’m gonna go. You have a good night, Ann.”

I sighed. “You too. Talk to you soon.”

“Yeah.”

I put my phone down and scratched Franny between the ears.

“That could have gone better.”

 

NOTHING QUITE LIKE the first fight with my almost-girlfriend to put my motivation in the pits at work, especially after old Georgie sent me a one-line email that he couldn’t fit our one-on-one into his schedule this week. What little focus I mustered was successfully going toward progress, but on the audit, not on my other projects. The numbers were more forgiving than forming email after email of pleasantries and updates; I couldn’t stomach it. So numbers it was, between checking Facebook and hoping Rachael would still want to hang out sometime this week. I probably needed to give her some space after the other night. God, this felt like we were high school, which was the complete opposite of what I wanted.

But was it her arguments putting me into this mood or my insecurities resurfacing?

“Focus on the numbers, just focus on the numbers,” I muttered.

And I did. Until close to lunchtime, when a text came in. It was Rachael, and it was long, and somehow, without even reading it, I knew it wasn’t good news.

Rachael: I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I don’t think I’m in the position to be a girlfriend right now. I’m worried Connor’s been acting out because I’ve been spending this time away from him, and I’m feeling overwhelmed, and worried I can’t give you what you need and deserve. I know you mean well by saying we can make it work together, but I don’t think it’s that simple for me. It’s been so much fun hanging out with you, and I know how much Connor likes you and Franny. We’ll see you around the park sometime for sure.

I read her words twice, heat flooding my cheeks and my throat constricting with swells of emotion I didn’t want to feel at work. I forced myself to take her words to heart and tried to accept them for what they were—what Rachael thought was best for her family. But what about me? And how dare you dismiss my attempt to help? A hot bubble of anger swelled up my chest, and I sucked in a breath, trying to keep it down. And I blinked back the itch of what I swear to god better not be tears.

I wasn’t going to be pissed because she was trying to do what was best for her family. I wasn’t. I wasn’t.

Chelsea’s head popped up over the side of my cubicle. “Hey do you— Oh, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

I blinked up at her and put my phone away. “I’m fine, sorry, and yes I do want lunch.”

“Okay. Great. You sure you’re okay?”

As I stood from my desk, I tried to reason through how I would respond to Rachael, if I responded at all— “Yes, I just got some weird news, but having lunch will be the perfect distraction.”

Chelsea nodded, her heels making muffled clicks, even on the thin carpet, as we traversed to the break room. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I’m here if you need me.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

And I did, not that I wanted to bring Rachael up with her, and hopefully she meant it that she wasn’t expecting me to talk about my personal life. But by the time we’d grabbed our lunches and taken our seats, the conversation had drifted, and I went with the ebbs and flows throughout the meal, dealing with the occasional smack of remembering what Rachael had said as it came. Each time I remembered, it hurt.

Soon, I was back at my desk, the spreadsheets not bringing me quite as much comfort as they had before lunch. I didn’t want Rachael to leave everything as she had. I wanted to say something.

Ann: I understand, Rachael. It has been a ton of fun. And I’m always open for this to be a temporary break instead of a breakup. Totally up to you.

Rachael: Is there really much of a difference?

Her words were like a slap across the face. I reeled, still trying to appear unaffected while at my desk.

“She’s upset. I gotta give her some time,” I whispered, a pang of separation aching within me. The ache of what could have been, if things had been different.

God, I didn’t like putting this stuff in past tense. I gazed back up at my spreadsheets. This was going to be a long week.