Page 4 of One Last Summer
“You know what a synonym for ‘fine’ is?” she asked.
“Good?” I ventured, my voice pitched and hopeful, like a kid desperately guessing on the final word of a spelling bee.
“No, Clara,” she continued. “Fine” is code for terrible. When someone says they’re fine, what they really mean is they’ve been working around the clock on something and getting nowhere but stressed out.”
“Well, yeah.” I let out an uncomfortable laugh, desperate to salvage this conversation. “But that something still needs a lot of work. That’s why I can’t just take time off next week.”
“In order for the pitch to be better, I need you to be better,” she said, and it was clear from her tone that Zen Amaya had been replaced by take-no-prisoners Amaya.
I swallowed hard, willing the tears that were rushing to the corners of my eyes back where they came from.
“Okay,” I said quietly. If I could just keep my face emotionless and steady, then no one would see the mortification that was bubbling up just underneath the surface. But I caught Delilah’s face out of the corner of my eye, and the pity etched across her brow was enough to send my shoulders clenching. I pressed my lips tightly together in a futile attempt to quell the panic that was overtaking me.
“This is going to be so good for you, Clara.” Amaya summoned me toward her with a wave. “Healing, even.”
The Mikes and Marks parted as I awkwardly stepped forward until I was face-to-face with her waist. She bent down and wrapped her arms around me.
“Can’t this wait until after the pitch?” I pleaded, stiffly leaning in to her embrace.
“Clara, we just announced it in front of the entire office,” she said, her voice low. “It’s official.”
Because I wasn’t already humiliated enough, her diamond tennis bracelet snagged in my hair as she pulled away. All I could do was stand there, cheeks flushed, as Abe rushed forward and gingerly yanked us apart.
“See, everyone?” she said, once we were separated. “This is how I want you to support your teams, the people you manage, and your managers. I expect my inbox to be inundated with time-off requests. I can’t wait to hear all about your plans. And now, we celebrate!”
The room exploded in giddy applause, and soon everyone was grouping off into their collective work cliques, Rihanna thumping from a nascent desk speaker somewhere.
I rushed back into my office before someone could corner me in conversation about my newly announced vacation and plopped down in my chair, dumbfounded. My eyes settled on my trusty spiral-bound notebook. Aside from Lydia, this thing was my best friend. I’d spent weeks agonizing over the cover color (sea-foam blue) and paper style (dotted) alone.
The notebook was flipped open to my current scribbled to-do list from hours earlier. The words taunted me with their ignorance of what was to come. This morning I’d titled it “Clara’s Friday To-Do List: Get It Done And Go Home!!!” which now seemed a bit on the nose after Amaya’s proclamation. I plucked my favorite pen off my desk and pressed its round point against the paper with an exasperated, emotional huff.
Directly underneath “Print budget PDF for review,” I drew a small square and wrote, “Have life thrown into a tailspin” next to it, practically carving the words into the paper.
And then I checked it off.
3
“HEY, BOSS. I thought you might need this.” Lydia hustled into my office clutching a stack of cardboard containers in her arms, tucked under her chin for balance. The savory scent of French fries washed over me like a siren song, and my stomach immediately responded with a greedy growl.
“Here.” She passed me one that was overflowing with crisp, matchstick fries, and a greasy, paper-wrapped burger. “Extra pickles.”
“Hell yes, thank you.” I reached forward eagerly, barely getting the words out before inhaling a handful of fries, so hot they singed the roof of my mouth.
“I hope it’s okay that I yelled out about your New Hampshire trip. I swear I was just trying to help,” she said, offering me an apologetic look as she flopped down on the modern, steel-gray love seat next to my desk. “You looked shook, like you were about to freak out.”
“Oh, I’m not about to freak out,” I said, tearing open a packet of ketchup with my teeth.
“Well, that’s good—”
“I’m already there. I’m in def-con five, the world’s about to explode, and mankind as we know it will be extinct freakout.”
“Oh.” Lydia’s face fell, bright pink lips pursed with worry.
“It’s not your fault, Lyd,” I said through bites. “You didn’t know Amaya was going to make me the poster child for burnout in front of the entire office.”
“Yeah, that was wild.” She wrinkled her nose, giving me a sympathetic look.
“And you know how much stuff we still have left to do!” I smacked at my notepad with the back of my hand to make my point. “We’re so far in the hole on this thing. How am I supposed to fix it if I’m not here? I know for a fact that Amaya secretly checks her email when she’s on that ridiculous silent yoga retreat. She’s so full of shit.”
