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Since Sarah and I had our little falling out, things between us remain strained at work, with just the occasional “hello” here and there. Payday lunchtime came and went. All morning, I wasn’t sure if I should assume we’re still going or ask if she wants to go to Black Angus. I got my answer when lunchtime rolled around and she went to lunch with Angela the husband stealer and her sidekick Michelle. All I could do is watch them walk toward their car, talking and laughing about something funny that happened in the office that day, feeling like the lonely kid on the playground with no friends. I totally lost my appetite, which is always a small miracle for me, and went to my car and took a nap. I didn’t go to her bridal shower and even though I have yet to be uninvited to the wedding, I imagine I will be. Our friendship was the one bright spot at work and now, even that’s gone. I really am all alone now and maybe deep down, that’s what I wanted all along.
I always was a pretty solitary kid. After quitting club gymnastics, I had no one for a while. A few friends came along with high school gymnastics and cheerleading, most notably Jamie, but I was never outgoing and often felt left out of things. I longed to be the popular girl surrounded by a posse of adoring friends. I heard chatter about the latest beach bonfire on Monday and wondered how everyone else knew about it but me. Everyone went out for pizza after football and basketball games, and everyone else had a ride except me. I stood alone at the curb after games in my cheerleading uniform, waiting for my dad to come pick me up while they shrieked with laughter and camaraderie on their way out to the student parking lot. I was a cheerleader. Didn’t that mean I was supposed to have friends? Sometimes they’d wave and call out. I’d smile and wave back. Maybe something about my vibe told them to leave me alone. When everyone else had boyfriends and started going to dances, I’d cry myself to sleep at night wondering what was wrong with me. Jamie was always there for me, but she had a very active social life filled with a lot of boyfriends and couldn’t spend every second hanging out with her socially challenged friend.
College didn’t thrust me head first into a party fueled journey of self-discovery abundant with friends I’d keep for life the way I’d hoped. I went to a college known for academics not parties, where I lived on campus for exactly one year, missing out on socialization fostered by dorm life because we couldn’t afford the expensive meal plan. Settling for on campus apartments cost fifty percent less but did nothing for my social life. I didn’t join any clubs or rush a sorority. I attended class, nothing more. Even the semester exchange my parents made me do at a college in Virginia my third year didn’t help. I met a lot of people, but didn’t form any lasting friendships. Having a boyfriend surely contributed to the ruining of my college experience. People don’t like me. I don’t have whatever it takes to attract interest. Reserved might as well be invisible, and average is rarely in demand.
Will protected me from all of that. I didn’t need a gaggle of girlfriends, parties to go to or likes on social media because at long last, I had a boyfriend of my own, and his love conjured a sense of self-worth I couldn’t find within myself.
I check the clock. Just thirty minutes left and I’ll be out of here, but I have time to make one more phone call. I roll my eyes, letting out a tiny breath of exertion caused by picking up one of my thickest and most dreaded files.
“Hello, this is Alexis calling from Silver Insurance. May I please speak to Phillip Jones?”
“Uh...well, he’s not here right now. Can I take a message?”
It’s the same routine every single time. I know its Phillip Jones on the other end of that line and he knows I know, but I carefully spell out my name, give him my number and wait for him to read it back to me. Based on a witness statement, he’s at fault for the accident but he’s been lying about what happened and rather than just ‘fess up and give me the darn recorded statement, he’d rather dodge us and let this situation drag on longer than it needs to. Meanwhile, I have the other party on my back about when they can get their car fixed. I check the clock again. Twenty-five more minutes.
My supervisor Jan stops by my desk with a smile on her face to tell me that the Top Fifteen list has come out. Every month, our supervisors rank us on closures, injury settlements and whether or not we’re up to date on claim file reviews. Jan posts the list just outside the manager’s office for everyone to see.
“Go look,” she says.
I don’t really care, but since she’s asking, I head over to the cluster of people staring at the list. As I approach, Angela turns around and glares at me through the crowd. I’m number one in all areas for the third month in a row. She’s number two. Sarah’s name isn’t on the list at all.
“Good job,” our manager Randy calls out from his office.
“Thanks!” I reply with false excitement. Don’t they realize I’m only as efficient as I am because the alternative of being behind and trying to dig myself out is terrifying? The only way I can survive here is to stay a step or two ahead of the work.
The day drags on endlessly and as soon as the clock strikes 3:45 p.m., I’m packing up my desk. Sarah glances my way and I give her a small, strained smile before I grab my purse and go. My stomach churns a little bit as I drive toward the agency. I can hardly believe I’m doing this. I’m still worried about being in a classroom with high school kids, but the money has been spent and the decision has been made. “Here I am,” I say out loud, pulling into the parking lot.
I’d waste too much gas going home first, so I kill time across the street at a strip mall and read while I eat dinner at the sandwich shop until it’s time for class. At 5:45 p.m., I check in at the front desk. The clerk directs me to a room with about ten chairs in the center arranged in a semi-circle facing each other. Framed posters of inspirational quotes and song lyrics decorate the white walls. The only other person in the room is an almost shockingly beautiful girl with long black hair that falls in straight silky strands down her back and a fringe of choppy bangs over her eyes. She gives me a huge smile, revealing a perfect set of large chiclet white teeth. When she stands, she towers over me but she’s about half as wide. This girl already looks like a model. What’s she doing here?
“Hi, my name is Talya,” she says with an accent I can’t place.
“Hello, my name is Alexis,” I say and we shake hands. She sits down again and I take a seat one chair over from her. As we settle in, a couple of other girls enter the room, one of whom appears to be a bit closer to my age. She has a pleasant face and stick straight, dull brown shoulder length hair. I wouldn’t call her fat. Big boned is a better word, but in perfect proportion to her tall frame. Her clothes don’t do her any favors though, as they appear to be too tight and she walks with her head down. Without as much as a glance at Talya and me, she sits down on the opposite side.
I busy myself looking at the black-framed pictures of Olympic athletes and well known singers, dancers and actors, some of them adorned with signatures in the bottom corner. Two blonde girls who look like sisters file in. You can tell they’re real blondes because of the fair coloring that comes straight out of their roots matching their pale eyelashes and brows. One is significantly taller than the other, but looks like the younger one.
A brunette wearing black flats and a graphic tee half way tucked into distressed, lose fitting faded jeans walks in next and smiles at me with recognition in her eyes as if she knows me. I hate it when that happens. You don’t know this person but they’re looking at you like they know you. You don’t want to smile or wave in case they’re really looking at someone else, in which case you’d feel like an idiot, but you also don’t want to be rude and totally ignore them just in case you do know them. I glance to my left to see if maybe her smile is directed at Talya, but she walks straight towards me and sits in the chair between us and says, “Oh my god! Hey, how are you?”
“Fine,” I say with an exuberance matching hers even though I still have no idea who she is.
“So did you find an apartment? I waited for you after my consultation but you must have gone in and out before I finished or something because I didn’t see you anywhere.”
Oh, my goodness. It’s Sabrina, the girl who randomly offered to be my roommate when I came in for orientation. She looks totally different.
“I know, I look totally different,” she says. “I get bored really easily and being blonde is totally overrated, so I went back to my roots. You like?” she asks and tosses her head around, sending her brown wavy locks swirling about her face. When she reaches her arm up to smooth it back down, I notice that she has a tattoo on the inside of her left wrist that’s too small to make out. The dark hair really compliments her brown eyes and tan skin but she’d probably look good with Green hair.
“Yeah, it looks great. I didn’t even recognize you.”
On anyone else, the faded blue jeans and worn out looking cotton top would look grungy, but she looks like she tumbled directly out of bed and into a fashion spread. Her hair has that bed head tousled look to it, but still looks done and even without make-up her skin is flawless. Dark, thick lashes frame her large eyes.
“So, did you find an apartment?” she asks again.
“Uh, yes. I did. I’m in East County now.”
“Nooo... it gets so hot there! And it’s so far. You should’ve come and looked at the extra room I had. You could have been right downtown. I did manage to find a decent roommate, and it’s working out so far, but she’s getting super tight with her boyfriend and I have this feeling that they’re going to end up wanting to live together. If they think I’m going to let him move in, they’ve got another think coming,” she says, raising her eyebrows emphatically. “He’s there way too much as it is... I swear, he should be paying rent. He just gives me the creeps. You know how sometimes you just get a weird gut feeling about someone? Like, something is off?”
I nod my head.
“Well, that’s him.” She shudders and shakes her head in disgust. “Anyway, how cool is it that we’re going to be in the same class?”
“Yeah. I was wondering if you decided to sign up or not. I almost didn’t, but had a change of heart.”
“I almost didn’t either,” Sabrina says. “I don’t feel that I especially need personal development, but I really didn’t have anything else productive I wanted to do with my time at the moment, so I signed up for the combo deal and here I am.”
That means we’ll be in class together for the next three months. She’s very brash and abrupt, but I think I like her.
I glance around the room again and by this time, all but two of the chairs are filled until one more person enters the room and takes one. Her shock of white blonde hair bounces around her shoulders as she strides into the room on heels higher than I’ve ever worn in my life. A younger girl with long, straight brown hair that falls in sheets across her back and kind brown eyes smiles at her, flashing deep, uneven dimples in both cheeks, offering a hello, but she doesn’t respond. The girl’s eyes widen in confusion at what seems to be a slight, then she continues chatting with the very pretty, sweet faced blonde girl on her right. When the bleached blonde glances up, a flash of recognition passes over her face which seems to be directed at Sabrina.
“Do you know her?” I whisper.
“Nope.” She replies quickly, but there was definitely a stilted exchange of glances.
At 6:01 p.m. on the dot, this glamazon of a woman walks in and shuts the door behind her. She stands at the top of the semi-circle facing us and introduces herself. “Hello everyone. My name is Eve and I’m going to be your personal development instructor for the next four weeks. I’m so excited that you have all decided to take this journey.”
She clasps her hands in front of herself and smiles, revealing teeth so perfectly square they must be veneers. Her smile remains pasted on her face as she makes eye contact with each one of us. She looks like Miss America. Seriously. She’s definitely got the hair. Her shiny chestnut brown tresses, parted deeply at the side, sweep across her forehead in a perfect swoop that cascades in gentle waves past her shoulders with the crown lifted and teased to frame her face.
“I have competed in Miss Teen USA, Miss USA and Miss America pageants. I held the title of Miss Nevada for two years and won Miss USA on my second try. My college education was completely financed with scholarship money I won in pageants. I was a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader for three years while I completed my MBA. I’m a promotional speaker, so I teach classes like this all over the US, and actively participate in several charity organizations.”
I knew it! A pageant girl, and obviously smart and ambitious too. The ray of light vaulting through her wedding ring informs me that she probably has an equally handsome husband to go along with the rest of her perfect life.
“Having spent most of my life doing pageants and dance, I’ve learned quite a bit about what it takes not only to project confidence, but to also feel it on the inside. If you don’t believe in yourself and feel pride in yourself from the inside out, no one else is going to be able to see it. In this class, you will improve self-awareness and social abilities, build your sense of identity and identify your potential. We want you to leave this class as a more confident and well-rounded person than when you came in.”
My heart starts beating faster and I sit up a little bit straighter. Yes, yes! That’s exactly what I want. This woman is my very own angel sent from heaven. If I can walk out of here with even half of her polish and self-confidence, it’ll still be a one hundred percent improvement from where I started.
“Let’s start with a little ice breaker.”
One by one, Eve wants us to introduce ourselves and tell everyone our motivation for taking the class. I know it’s only eight other people, and this isn’t exactly a speech or anything, but I’m already nervous.
“So, who wants to go first?” Eve asks, expectantly looking around the room.
Everyone stares at everyone else for a few seconds. Talya raises her arm half way, and Eve nods the go ahead.
“Hello, my name is Talya. I’m twenty-three years old and I’m an international student from Turkey doing my last year of graduate studies here at San Diego State University. I am an only child and it was really hard for my parents to let me study abroad, but I really wanted to see the world. I love it here and I want to stay. I’m here on a student Visa, so I’m expected to go back to Turkey after graduation. I’ve always been told I should be a model. It’s not considered respectable to be a model in my family and I never really thought about being one, but I figured if I could get a modeling agent here, then I’d get to extend my Visa and stay.”
She’s so beautiful. How could she not know she was born to be a model? She’s stopped talking and I absolutely do not want to go next, so I keep my eyes downward and avoid making eye contact with Eve. The person to the left of Talya speaks up.
“Hello! My name is Callie,” she chirps. She gives a little half wave to everyone and lets out a little giggle, clearly excited to be here. We all laugh a little in response. Her voice is high and her energy infectious. “I’m fifteen years old and I’m a sophomore at Vista High School. I’m the smart one in the family, but I’m terrible at sports.” She giggles again and her eyes squint to half-moons. “I’ve wanted to come here forever. We live an hour away so my mom wouldn’t let me sign up until my sister got a car and could drive me. It’s always been my dream to be a model. My mom has no clue how to get me started, so I had my sister bring me here.”
I graduated from Vista High too—about a decade ago. Callie is a fetus compared to me and she looks like one too, with her round blue eyes, fair skin, blonde bangs, her cheeks dusted with freckles, and the slightest of spaces between her two front teeth.
“I’m the older sister,” the person sitting next to her pipes up.
So, they are sisters. She looks like an older, curvier but more compact version of Callie with fewer freckles. Callie’s proportions mirror the classic, lanky, slim runway model, while Karen’s curvy athletic shape belongs in a swimsuit catalog. She’s not even wearing a super low cut top but the dip is enough to make out the swell of a perfect cleavage. She looks bored. Her legs are crossed and the foot that’s off the ground fidgets while she talks.
She continues with her introduction. “My name is Karen. I’m twenty-one years old and I’m a waitress and part time student. I’m the athletic one. I used to be a competitive diver, but now I’m Callie’s chauffer. Our mom thought this would be something fun Callie and I could do together. She was willing to pay for us both, so I’m tagging along.”
Maybe I could get up to go to the bathroom and miss my turn. No, then they might think I did it on purpose or I might still have to do it when I come back which would be worse than just getting it over with.
Eve nods at the one who walked in with her head down to go next. She speaks so low, we can’t hear her and Eve has to ask her to speak up. She clears her throat and tries again, casting her eyes downwards as she speaks.
“My name is Janine. I’m twenty-seven. I’m a Computer Network Engineer with a Bachelor’s Degree in Business and a Master’s degree in Engineering. They’re starting to ask me to do some presentations at work and I’m running out of ways to get out of it.” Her brown eyes dart around the room nervously before looking down again.
“Thanks, Janine,” Eve says then nods at the girl next to her. The one with the dimples is Molly and the sweet blonde sitting next to her is Mindy. Both seventeen, they have been singing and dancing together since they were five, have no experience acting, and signed up because they want to move to Hollywood together as soon as they graduate high school. “We want to be a triple threat. Sing, act and dance,” Molly says excitedly.
The white-blonde haired girl who ignored Molly’s hello earlier doesn’t wait for a signal from Eve, introducing herself as Tessa. “I’m twenty-two. I’m a production assistant at NBC studios and I graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in Communications and a minor in Theatre last year. I’ve starred in too many plays to count. I want to be on TV, preferably, a news anchor.” Her hair is so platinum, it’s gray. I wonder how long it took to apply her perfectly made up face.
Sabrina tells everyone she doesn’t volunteer her age. She’s interested in fashion design and wardrobe styling, so she decided to explore the entertainment industry side of it. She says she’s here mainly because she needs something to do. She must not work. Or maybe she does but chooses not to volunteer that bit of information either.
My palms sweat. In a shaky voice, I tell everyone my name and that I’m a claims adjuster. I purposefully omit my age, but don’t feel the need to state that I did so, like Sabrina did. “I’m here because I need something new and different. I don’t know... maybe this is it.”
“Thanks, everyone. It’s my pleasure to be working with all of you,” Eve says brightly, walking over to the black desk at the front of the room. She takes a stack of binders and hands half to Tessa and half to Sabrina and we pass them around the circle until everyone has one.
“This is our workbook for the next four weeks. Please make sure to bring it with you to class every week. Open it up to the table of contents and we’ll get started.”
Hoping desperately that it isn’t too late for me to re-invent myself, I let out a deep breath and eagerly open my book.
