Page 16 of Last Letters to Ara
“You made that clear.” He’s amused. Great.
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Extragood.”
His amusement turns into an all-out smirk, and I wish I could stamp it out with my foot. “Since that’s settled, I think it’s safe to move on to the part of the night where we give Karen a giant middle finger, via resignation letter.”
“Agreed. Have you ever written a resignation letter before?”
“Of course. Haven’t you?”
“No.” Anxiety rears its ugly head, preparing for the condescending comment that is surely about to leave his mouth.
Except, it doesn’t.
“Don’t worry, it was bound to happen eventually.” He turns on his laptop. “Have you been in school up until now?”
Theo doesn’t need to know that I’m a college dropout with no immediate family, no friends, and no direction in life. My job at the café is truly the only thing I have going for me, and he is here to help me bring an end to that, too.
Essentially I’ll be a certifiable loser as soon as we hit ‘Send’ on the email.
“Listen, we aren’t here to trade depressing life stories and cry it out. Let’s just type this letter and move on. Separately.” I tack on that last word so I don’t set him up for one of his witty innuendos.
“Right.” Sigh. “Okay, then. There is all the stuff a resignation letter is supposed to have such as the date, your full name, address, position title, standard two-week notice, etc.”
“Wait.” The world slowly crumbles underneath my Converse. “I have to see KarenafterI tell her that I’m quitting?”
Theo gives me a bemused look. “Of course, you can’t just quit and never show up again.”
I groan. “Why not?”
Theo chuckles. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”
“There is no way I can write a resignation letter designed to make Karen feel like dog shit and face her the next day. I don’t have the balls.”
“At least that’s good to know.”
“What?”
“That you don’t have balls.”
A feeling which had become foreign until recently, starts to tingle around my lips as I fight the battle of my life right now. Losing, losing, losing...aaaaandlost. Either from the struggle, or the lack of use my facial muscles have received lately, my cheeks ache something fierce as I give Theo a broad, genuine smile.
While distracted with my internal battle, something caused Theo to lose his mental footing as if he’s entered some sort of antechamber in his mind, where he’s still processing his surroundings, but from afar. I wave my hand in front of his face. Nothing. Not a single reaction aside from his eyes turning into a dark, storming green.
I turn around, expecting to see Kate Upton running in slow motion in that skimpy lifeguard “uniform” (if you can even call it that) but I see nothing. Not. A. Soul. The airport is quiet, most of the flights having left hours ago. By the time I’ve faced back toward Theo, he is working studiously on his laptop as if I imagined the entire thing.Weird.
“Are you okay?”
“Huh?”
“You were just mentally frozen. Or potentially on fire.”
Theo gives me a noncommittal shoulder lift. “My bad, I was just lost in thought.”
“Yeah,okay.Let’s just focus on the letter so you can go.” And there it is. That tone. Accusatory. Ungrateful. Jumping to conclusions and giving the person in front of me a giant shove. Why does zoning out for a second instantly mean he wants to leave?
