I don’t want to talk to him anymore, so I lean into the passenger door, look outside the window, and hum the melody toBeautiful Dayby U2 until we get to work.
***
Usually my days fly by, but work trudges by for the first time since I’ve started with the Nighthawks. Rush and I have never had a serious argument before, but I think this morning in the Rover may have been our first. I don’t feel good about it, but I also know that I have a job to do, and I’ll get the opportunity to address it later. We do still live together. Eventually I’ll have to talk to him and clear the air.
“Hey, Mia, Human Resources needs to see you today.”
“They need me to go to the office?”
“Yeah, something about more forms.”
“Okay.”
This is not the best day in the world for me to see Miranda, but I know she spends most her day in that office with two other people. She’s more than likely going to be there when I go up there. I just have to pull up my big girl panties and handle it.
“Hi, Mia, Miranda’s in her office waiting for you.”
“Oh, I thought it was just some papers I had to sign or something.”
“Um, I’m not really sure everything that she needs. Just knock once and go inside.”
“Cool.”
I knock twice and Miranda answers.
“Come in.”
“Afternoon, Miranda.”
“Afternoon, Mia. Have a seat.”
“What’s this about?”
She plops three envelopes on top of her desk.
I sent some information concerning your health insurance to your house, and they were returned to sender. I thought we should straighten it out before the tax forms go out later in the year.
At this point, I’m droning out all of her words, because my eyes are affixed to the extravagant and relatively fresh purple flower arrangement on top of the table behind her. She notices my point of focus and paints the smallest of smirks across her face.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
“They match your hair.”
“Yes, I guess they do. Beautiful and thoughtful.”
“Is it your birthday?”
“No.”
“Did someone die?”
“Excuse me?”
“Was there a death in your family?”
“No, just astormyday.”
Her reference to our last conversation doesn’t escape me.
