Page 43 of Cava with My Colleague

I click past it.

“In conclusion,” I hear myself say.

We are twenty-two minutes into a forty-five-minute presentation.

“In conclusion, our data demonstrates that this therapeutic approach offers significant benefits for oncology patients experiencing chemotherapy-induced alopecia. The safety profile is favorable, the efficacy is proven, and the patient satisfaction metrics exceed industry standards. Thank you for your attention.”

I click to the final slide. I stand there breathing.

Someone starts clapping. A few others join in—that particular applause that means we’re not sure what just happened but it appears to be over. No hands go up for questions. In the back of the room, a woman in a headscarf is gathering her things, her face careful and unreadable.

I say “thank you” again into the microphone, even though I have no idea who I’m thanking or for what.

Then I walk off the stage.

I’m pacing when Carlos finds me. My heels are too loud on the floor of the prep room but I can’t make myself stop.

“That was a disaster,” I say, before he can say anything.

“It was rough⁠—”

“I blanked, Carlos.” My voice comes out flatter than I intend. “I stood up there in front of three hundred people—in front of Rebecca—and I skipped the patient stories and then I just—” I make a gesture with my hands that doesn’t mean anything. “Ended it. Twenty minutes early.”

“You were nervous. Without the teleprompter⁠—”

“I knew the material.” The anger is easier than the other thing underneath it. I lean into it. “I have known this material for months. It was gone. All of it.”

I press my palms against my eyes.

Carlos says something about the patient testimonials, about rushing, about the parts that were supposed to make them care. He’s right. He’s completely right. That’s the worst part.

“You’ve been waiting for me to screw up,” I say. My voice is shaking now and I hate it. “Well. Congratulations.”

“Jade—”

The door opens.

Rebecca strides into the room.

My boss leans against a table and crosses her ankles. She’s wearing a fantastic emerald-green dress and diamond earrings. She looks every inch the power boss and I wish that didn’t make me feel smaller. “Jade,” Rebecca says my name in a soft reprimand. “Why didn’t you tell me you were uncomfortable presenting?”

I take a deep breath to help calm myself. “Today was an aberration. The teleprompter wasn’t working. We’ve been getting a good response from attendees, and my presentation is informative. I’ve had a few people who’ve been really intrigued by the data⁠—”

“Jade. I understand that you’re a scientist, first and foremost, but you’re representing the company right now. Carlos can’t do all the work when it comes to our client relations. If I’d known this was going to be a problem for you, I would have found someone else to do it.”

I swallow. Client relations are my forte . . . just one-on-one.

“Carlos and I discussed possible options to replace you when he told me you were struggling, but I hadn’t expected it to be such a problem. Now, I understand that this is difficult for you and my intention isn’t to make it harder. But,” she continues, “I have to consider what’s best for the company.”

And then, as if reading my mind, Rebecca says, “I need to rely on you to not fall apart when things go wrong. Try to look at your past experiences with a bit more lightheartedness. Maybe that can help you move past it. Have you tried some exposure therapy? Dancing on stage, perhaps?” Rebecca softens the dig with a smile.

My mind goes completely white. At first I think it’s blank, just sheer surprise and embarrassment, but after the initial flash, it fades to anger.

What. The. Fuck.

I am dying of mortification. Has Carlos told her everything? “No, it’s not too late,” I protest. “Look—I know it hasn’t been great. It’s not easy for me, but I’m working on it. Let me . . . let me think about this a little bit and work on it.”

“One more presentation,” Rebecca agrees, and I promise an update after Paris and Barcelona next week. She leaves, and I round on Carlos.