Page 47 of I Hope This Finds You Well

“It was meant to be a zebra,” she clarifies.

Miley chews her hangnail, insecure as she waits for me to respond,and my heart tumbles like a domino. That’s why she wanted to know my favorite animal. I accept the unfortunate creature from her carefully, lest it fall into pieces in my hands. “Thank you. That’s really amazing of you.”

She lowers her chin. “It’s nothing amazing. I’m still learning.”

The faint light in her eyes—I’ve seen it slowly begin to dim lately. “Hey, Miley, what are you... Is your mom around?” Her eyes shift downward, giving me the answer I don’t want. I’m woefully ill-equipped for this.

“She had to work a double,” Miley says to the carpet that hasn’t been vacuumed in decades. “I was supposed to ask a friend to go over, but everyone was busy, so I’ll just hang out.” It’s the insecure little fists. “Don’t worry, I’m not that young. It’s fine.”

The little gift presses down heavily in my palms. “I know.” It’s technically true; she’s old enough to be alone for a few hours. “So, what are you going to do today?”

“I guess I have more crocheting to do.”

She looks at me—and damn it, I recognize that faint glimmer in her expression. I take an infinitesimal step backward into my apartment’s threshold without thinking, and just like that the glimmer fades.

I nod. “Well, if you need anything—uh, I mean, if something happens, please knock. And if I’m not around—”

She smiles, cheeky. “You’ll be home.”

I press my own smile on and return to my apartment to finish the weekend out, determined that next week I will focus on my plan and not let myself be distracted by anything. Or anyone.

Milkshake hangovers are simply not worth the angst.

Bronze Medal Wife

Another minute and forty seconds until the workweek officially begins, but already the cubicles are fully stocked. Everyone hunches over their screens.

Everyone, except Caitlin.

After a weekend of overthinking everything—the night with Cliff, Caitlin’s HR meeting, Armin’s upcoming appointment, my parents, and my life in general, including the hour-long freakout on Saturday night after realizing I hadn’t seen my birth certificate in a while—I should be relieved to be here.

This morning, when I went outside, just seeing Cliff’s car there on the side of the road was a relief on its own. He’s not totally avoiding me yet. But as soon as I slipped into the passenger seat, it was clear he was on another planet, hardly talking and picking up his phone to text at stoplights. Maybe Caitlin’s complaints had gotten to him after all. But the worst thought hit when we passed the ice-cream shop we had the shakes at, and he tensed. What if he’s been put off after that chat, reliving the conversation and all the shit I said, just like I’ve been doing?

Now with Caitlin’s desk empty, her monitor blank, it’s like a doom spiral with no end in sight.

Armin gets up and heads toward the printer room. I try not to look at himtoo hard. This morning, he emailed Cliff to confirm their appointment will be Wednesday. The air in my lungs sifts tighter.

My hand acts practically on its own accord as I rage click the meeting link. And it takes a second for my head to absorb what’s on the screen. I can actually access Armin’s entire calendar. None of his appointments are set to private.

Last week’s appointment, the one that twisted Rhonda’s pantaloons, was simply recorded as:University Location. I scroll back. There were two appointments the week before with identical names.More diggingbrings in several more, all with the same name or some that specifySouth Campus.

Is he taking secret classes? Slacking from work to attend university doesn’t track for Armin, but it would explain his constant fatigue. I copy the schedule onto a sheet. I may need to use this against him.

As I slip the page into my drawer, Rhonda eases out of her chair with a creak and turns toward me and Armin’s half of the pods. “Caitlin booked a last-minute PTO—can you two cover any inventory specs that come in?”

Where the hell is she? There were no emails re the PTO in Rhonda’s or Greg’s inbox this morning, which means she must’ve arranged it via text. Or in person on Friday...

“I’d be happy to take the lead there,” I say, as I press a smile in Armin’s direction. His eyes are tinged red from lack of sleep, and he merely shrugs and turns back to his monitor.

Rhonda smiles extra hard toward me as she grabs her favoriteI’d Rather Be Craftingmug. “Jolene, you’re a star.”

“Thanks.” I smile, as Armin pulls his headphones over his ears with a neutral expression.

I need to learn my lesson: taking on extra work for him is not the way to this guy’s heart.

But then another doom-filled theory hits: What if they thought it was better for Caitlin to not be here in the fallout of her HR meeting? What if they’re planning on acting on her claims today, and she painted me as so unhinged she’d be safer off the premises when they escort me out?

The only thought that sobers me is that there’s no way Caitlin would voluntarily miss the chance to watch my job implode. She’d want front-row seats with popcorn.