Our relationship only lasted six months before I found out that he was dating two other girls. Guess he thought our circles were too far apart for me to ever figure it out. When I caught him in bed with one of them, I broke it off immediately. Later, he said I should feel lucky that he had even been with me. That he did me afavorand helped me get followers.
Never mind the fact I didn’t care about followers. All I wanted to do was write and maybe publish some photos. It would be nice to share that passion with someone special, but I learned quickly that influencers only viewed relationships as transactions. And that they’d only ever view a relationship with me as something below them.
“I’m not sure about that,” I said, blinking away the pinpricks behind my eyes.
Thankfully, Kira didn’t press. “Why are you working so late, anyways?”
The bright screen of my laptop sat on the coffee table, mocking me. “Victoria tore my article apart. I had to redo it before the morning.”
“God, she’s the worst.” Kira resealed the pint and headed for the kitchen. From there, she yelled, “I know you think your destiny is to stick it out and suffer or whatever, but remember when you wanted to start your travel blog? Maybe this is your chance!”
I had considered starting a blog a few times over the last twoyears. Each time, I managed to convince myself that things at my job would get better. Not to mention, it could be seen as a conflict of interest.
If I had my own blog, I could share any article I wanted. Put as much personality and whale puns in them as possible. My photos would accompany my words. I’d be in charge of my schedule and would attend whatever press events I wanted. It would be a lot of work, but wasn’t I already working all the time anyways?
But…
My column withRoamer’s Digestjust increased its viewership. My mom was going to freak out when I told her. A raise was inevitably coming soon. It’d be a bad idea to pivot now that I had the eyes I’d been seeking for years.
“It’s just something to think about.” Kira waved on the way back to her room. “Good night.”
It was too bad people saw me as either the girl from the video or Macey Monroe fromRoamer’s Digest, instead of just Macey.
The next morning, Britney already had a shot of espresso ready for me when I walked into The Burrow Café. She was a saint. An angel in the human flesh. I was going to give her a best friend of the year plaque. No, atrophy.
She was busy making someone else’s cappuccino but flashed a smile at me when I approached the counter. “Kira told me you didn’t sleep much. You need it.”
I took a sip and cringed at the taste. People who drank straight espresso were another level of human. I was but a mere mortal who enjoyed milk and sugar with a side of espresso. “Thank you.”
Britney handed an intern his cappuccino and joined me, a matching shot of espresso in her hand. “Cheers.” We clinked our cups together.
“You look more exhausted than I feel.” I eyed the bags under her eyes.
“Exams are coming up,” she explained. “Once those are over, I’ll sleep for a week.”
A second-year law student, Britney was preparing to practice intellectual property law one day. “Let me know if I can help.”
“Know anything about civil procedure?”
“I know ‘Stop, in the name of the law!’”
Britney laughed and shut her eyes. “That has nothing to do with…You know what, I’ll call you if I need someone to review flashcards with me.”
“Now that”—I checked the time on my phone—“I can do. I have a meeting with Victoria in ten, but I’ll call you later.”
My soul cried when I took another sip of the espresso, but the tired part of my brain sang with pleasure. In the elevator, I prayed to all the grammar gods that my middle-of-the-night brain functioned normally and I didn’t accidentally mix uptheir,there, andthey’re.
I had emailed the article to Victoria at 1:13 a.m. and passed out on the couch after. My neck hated me for it.
I’d always believed that people were good and prone to mistakes. Things happened: sometimes you forgot to restock the coffee, you tipped over salt that was difficult to clean, you locked someone out of the apartment (sorry, Kira).
But everyone was capable of rising above those mistakes. An apology could take you very far. The problem was when people refused to apologize for their actions.
I didn’t think Victoria had ever apologized for anything.
In the office, I dropped off my lunch in the kitchen—peanut butter and jelly sandwich because I was too exhausted to packanything else—and headed straight for Victoria’s office. She was finishing a call and gestured for me to step inside.
Her office reminded me of something I’d seen in a movie. Giant windows offered sweeping views of the Chicago River, designer furniture like a sleek glass desk elevated the space, and there was a sound system in the corner. Why? I couldn’t tell you.
