Page 120 of After We Fall

I scoot to the end of my chair, hands folded tightly in my lap. Darn it. I want my pencil skirt. There’s too much at risk here for me to be wearing a cousin to yoga pants. “I know I messed up and probably shouldn’t be considered for the job. But will you please hear me out?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was going to ask you to consider me for the position awhile ago. You and Harlan went on your honeymoon and entrusted me with the care of the girls. It was the perfect opportunity for me to show you how I could excel at the job.” I sigh, looking over her shoulder. “I knew I didn’t have the qualifications, but I thought I could show you what a good fit I was for this facility.”

“Penelope—”

“Then I failed. I lost Finley. I failed at my job and I tried to fix it. Made it worse, became injured, and then I wasn’t able to work.” I shrug. “Not the most ideal candidate for the position.”

She opens her mouth, but I hold up my hand and continue. “I brought you two options.” I run my hands over the red and blue plastic folders with my possible futures tucked inside its pockets. “The red folder has my proposal for the program director. I know my education isn’t an exact match for this job, but I found several graduate programs that would ramp up my qualifications. I’ve started the application process.”

She nods.

“Esther Haverty operates Safe Cove right outside of Dodge City, Kansas. She runs a similar facility and spent several hours helping me map out what I’m about to show you.”

“And what’s that?”

“I know that in considering me as a candidate, my health might be a concern. The folder contains a contingency plan.”

“What does that mean?”

“My headache treatments have gone well, but I’m still managing more migraines than I was before the accident. Dr. Ridding says it’s just going to take time.” Pictures of the recent brain maps pop into my head. Angry red and orange patterns dissipating, giving way to the more gentle greens and blues. The burning sun finally resting behind the calm of the ocean countryside.

I rub the spine of the red folder. “Knowing I have physical limits was a catalyst for me to brainstorm. I was forced to look at the job differently, and I’m really pleased with the outcome. I created a program I think might be valuable to the girls’ leadership development.”

A sparkle hits Meredith’s eyes, and a surge of confidence runs through me. “Go on,” she says.

As we sit, I walk her through the pages in my folder. The overall concept is to give the girls ownership of parts of the functioning halfway house. I would essentially delegate pieces of my job to them. They would act as my assistants. This would serve as a leadership development program while doubling as a backup plan for days when I can’t perform all my job duties.

Meredith lifts each page as I talk, stopping a few times to focus on one detail or another. She holds up a piece of paper with a map of South America. “What’s this?”

“That’s for a more advanced stage in the program.” I bite the edge of my lip. “Something to think about in the future.”

“Yes?” The question lingers in her eyes.

“Overseas service work would expose the residents to other cultures, develop other-mindedness, and instill compassion. I don’t have all the details fleshed out, but I was looking at different partnerships for this kind of thing. It would involve support raising and cultural training. A kind of graduate-level work, if you will. Something to cap off the leadership program as a whole.”

“And does the partner you have in mind come in the form of a man in well-fitting cargo pants?”

Heat hits my face, and I feel sadness. “It did at one point. But there are alternate options out there.”

She leans back, places the papers in her lap, and folds her hands. Using a tone that’s half business, half plotting, she says, “I would think you’d need extra travel days in your schedule for you and your partner to scope the locations beforehand, get the lay of the land.”

Meredith is such a romantic, I know she’s talking about partnering with Luke. But my broken heart keeps me grounded. “Meredith, as much as I want Luke to show me the world, I can’t depend on him to come around and be on board.”

“Maybe not.” She taps on the folder. “But this is a good idea. It has potential.”

Yes. It has potential.

“Anything else you want me to know? Since, in spite of me wearing sweatpants, this is apparently a job interview?”

I stare her square in the eyes. “Meredith. I belong here,” I whisper.

Leaning forward, she grabs my hands and whispers back with a watery smile, “I know.” She nods to the blue folder in my lap. “What’s in that folder?”

This moment is like the Choose Your Own Adventure books my mother bought me from the used bookstore around the corner from our apartment. Choose the red folder and Penelope stays in Colorado Springs. Choose the blue folder and Penelope moves away.

I hated those books. Why did a story have to change? “Predictability is a luxury you don’t want to afford,” my mother would say. Maybe she was right.