When Ms.Crenshaw reappeared, she ranme through a series of minor incantations while I struggled and sweated. I didn’t burst into flame, which was good, but I did liquefy a chair, which was less good. As we watched it twist and slump into a chunky pool on the floor, Ms.Crenshaw remarked, “You’ll need to do better than that if you want a spot in middle management.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I sighed.
“Is that starting to eat through the carpet?”
“I think so.”
“Let’s get Janitorial Services up here, then.” Her hoop earrings swayed a little as she shook her head. “Your pronunciation is terrible, your intentions are unfocused, and your will leaves much to be desired. It’s going to take some serious work for you to reach basic competence in the dark arts.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
Embarrassed, I returned to my desk and put in a call to Janitorial Services. Not long after that, my phone buzzed with a text from Eric:I’m in Midtown. Up for a walk after work?My mood bounced instantly from shame to ecstasy, and I agreed to meet him a couple of blocks from the office. Then I settled in to wait out the clock, counting the seconds until I was free.
“Tell me something no oneelse knows,” Eric said.
The sidewalks of Midtown were not the most romantic of locales, perhaps, but we were occasionally bathed in late-afternoon sunshine and it wasn’t yet hot enough for the city to smell like garbage, so it could have been worse. Besides, Eric made any location wonderful, especially when he smiled over at me and clasped my hand in his.
I furrowed my brow. “That no one else knows?” I repeated. “Okay. Hmm. I still have a stuffed Kermit the Frog doll that I got when I was one year old, and sometimes, when I’m feeling down, I hug him at night until I fall asleep.”
He burst out laughing. “I wanted a dark secret and you gave me wholesome cuteness.”
I laughed as well. “I don’t really have any dark secrets,” I said, before remembering that, in fact, I did. My laughter died.
Eric didn’t notice my sudden somberness as he grinned, dimples dimpling. “That’s okay. Dark secrets are overrated.”
We walked a little farther, hand in hand, before I said, “Your turn.”
He turned his head to watch a couple of taxi drivers shouting at one another. “Sometimes I wish I had a different job,” he said at last.
I studied his profile. “Why?”
His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I used to love it. Lately, though, it feels less and less fulfilling. It’s taken me all over the world, but I’m always at someone’s beck and call, doing what I’m told.” He let out a long breath. “It’s starting to feel a little exhausting.”
“You haven’t told anyone you work with?”
“Not yet, no.” His hand squeezed mine. “You’re the first.”
Warmth trickled through my chest. “So let’s say you decided to do something else. What would that be?”
He glanced sidelong at me. “Promise not to laugh?”
“I promise.”
“I’ve always wanted to open a little shop that sells Korean delicacies. Things like chapssaltteok, gyepi-manju, gonggal-ppang—the stuff I grew up eating in San Francisco.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I murmured, leaning closer so my shoulder bumped his.
“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” The smile he gave me was wistful.
“It’ll happen, someday. I’m sure of it.”
“You are?”
“Absolutely. Didn’t I tell you? I can see the future.”Just as soon as I figure out what those teeth are trying to tell me.
He laughed quietly. “Well, that’s reassuring. Thanks.”
“Hey, anytime.”
