Page 62 of The Long Way Home
I push back from the table. “Sure.”
“Hey, Dr. Faier.” I enter his office, trying to keep my pulse steady.
Faier is leaning back in his chair with his feet propped on the edge of his desk, one hand tapping a pen against his notebook. “Rachel, sit,” he says, gesturing at the chair across from him.
He leans forward, placing his elbows on the desk. “I can say I’m surprised you haven’t accepted the director position, yet.”
I freeze. My hands grip the sides of the chair. “I—I haven’t… I was still thinking about it.”
He tilts his head, a faint frown forming. “Thinking is fine, but the department would like to post the job position to the public soon.”
I swallow, the knot in my stomach tightening. “I’m just not sure I’m the right fit. Management isn’t really my thing. I’m more comfortable one-on-one with patients.”
He smiles, patient but firm. “Rachel, you already lead half this team without a title. You know how to guide people, how to motivate them. The difference is that the title just makes it official. That’s it.”
I hesitate to answer, and before I can start, he picks backup. “Look. I can stall for about another two weeks, but after that, the job will be available to the public. I think that should be enough time for you to seriously consider the position. Listen, Rachel, there is no pressure. But I’d hate for someone else to take this who doesn’t know the patients or the staff like you do. You’ve earned it.”
I rise from the chair, tugging my ID badge back into place. I know he is right. I’ve been waiting for permission to trust myself to make the right decision. But if I don’t know who I am anymore, how can I lead a group of people?
“Thank you, Dr. Faier,” I let out as I exit his office.
I picked up the extra shift after last night’s argument. I typically don’t work weekends, but I was desperate for any excuse not to be in that house. And now that my shift is over, I’m back to searching for an excuse.
I tug Rhett’s hoodie over my head as I head out to my car. I’m pathetic. I know Rhett will never see me as anything other than his best friend’s sister, but truthfully, I needed something that made me feel safe. I wanted to feel like my old self. The one before I lost Josh. So I put on his stupid hoodie. Needing an excuse not to head home, I text Margo.
Me:
Walk?
Sissy Margs
Elmwood trail in ten?
We meet at the trail near her neighborhood, a quiet, tree-lined path tucked behind a row of townhomes and a dry creek bed. She has two coffees in her hands, and she holds one out to me.
“Hey,” she greets gently.
“Hey.” I give her a small smile back.
I lift my latte and take a sip, hoping the heat will ease the tightness in my throat.
“Did you guys fight?” Margo asks after a few minutes.
I manage a short, humorless laugh. “What gave it away?” I try for sarcasm and miss.
“Because you’re doing that thing,” she says gently.
“What thing?”
“The thing where you pretend you’re fine, but your shoulders are tense, and you keep swallowing like you’re trying to push something down.”
Margo keeps talking before I can deflect. “Also, I was at the table when he called you Sunny. I got to witness the entire awkward, emotionally charged exchange. I knew Ben wasn’t going down easy once you two got home. And sorry for bringing up that story.”
I exhale hard and drop down onto a nearby bench, setting my cup on the slat beside me. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known how he was going to react.”
Margo sits too, close but not crowding me. I twist the mangled coffee sleeve between my fingers.
“But uh, yeah. He lost it last night as soon as we got home. Mostly over Rhett.”
