“It’s a gift,” I say, smiling.
“Do Ryan!” she says, eyes wide.
“Gemini,” he says.
“I’m supposed to guess!” I protest, wondering whether I should mention that Samira and Ryan are astrological soul mates or whether that would be awkward. Without their rising signs, I can’t be sure, so I say nothing.
“Can you guess me?” I say.
“Is there a star sign that doesn’t accept invitations, go for coffee, or even, you know, talk to people?” Samira asks, and I wilt a little.
“Is there a star sign that takes itself too seriously?” says Ryan, and I force myself to laugh and thus disprove his jibe.
“I’m Sagittarius, actually. Although I never feel as outgoing as I’m supposed to be, but that’s the sun sign for you. It’s just a snapshot, really. I’m deep in my rising and moon signs.”
“Okay, witch,” says Samira.
“ ‘Sagittarius. It’s time to sayyes... ,’ ” I say, reading my star sign aloud fromThe Cut. “ ‘Reach out to broaden your circle but be wary of stretching yourself too thin and causing stress.’ ” Crushingly accurate.
“You can’t be in danger ofthat,” says Samira. She’s being salty and I deserve it. She tried to get me out multiple times when I first arrived, and I said no to every invitation.
What people don’t realize, but what I’ve come to understand, is this: Idowant to get to knowher, but Idon’twantherto get to knowme. I disappoint. I start strong, and then after some time I cannot keep up with the bouncy, carefree Mara, and all the weird neuroses begin to leak out. And then I’m some other kind of Mara. I will do anything to avoid feeling like someone might get sick of me. Although I sure am sick of myself.
“Next time you ask me out, I promise to say yes,” I say.
“Oryoucould make the effort?” she says, but before I have a chance to protest, I see that she’s teasing me.
“Fair.”
I’m feeling a tentative sense of connection with them both whena few moments later, Lynn walks in with a share bag of Maltesers and two coffees. She hands me one and I almost gasp.
“Thanks, Lynn,” I say, truly touched. And then, to ram home the gratefulness, I add, “That’s so kind of you, a coffee. Wow.”
“Those kids don’t drink it,” she explains, nodding toward Samira and Ryan.
“Samira and I are around the same age,” I say, feeling exasperated.
“I’m twenty-nine!” Samira says, nodding.
“Oh yes, and you’rethirty-one,” Lynn says, as if it’s a joke we’re all in on.
A huge gust causes a massive spray of water to hit the windows, and we all jump backward, and Ryan whoops with delight.
“I just realized, if you’re Sagittarius, you haven’t had a birthday with us yet,” Samira says.
“No. But I don’t like a fuss.”
“Well, Ryan’s nan makes cake.”
“Black Forest gâteau,” Ryan confirms.
“With the chocolate shavings on top,” Lynn chimes in. “Make sure you tell us next time or weallmiss out on cake.”
“She’s right,” Ryan says. “Don’t let us down, Mara.”
“Sorry. Honestly, I find the attention of office birthdays a bit much. Everyone standing around singing out of tune and only there for the cake anyway.”
I look around at them, each face a more confused and pitying picture than the last.
