Thiswas Kira at her core. Not the actuary who had to fight for the occasional morsel of joy at the community center. The one who deserved so much more.
My plan started now. I would do whatever it took to turn the spark of happiness inside of Kira into a permanent fire. Even if it came at the cost of me getting burned in the process.
5
KIRA
The Burrow Bitches
Kira: SOS. I’m bored at work.
Britney: you can come do my law school assignments instead
Macey: I’m packing for Florida!
Macey: …I realize this doesn’t help.
Ariadne: I’m right there with you, Kira.
The meeting dragged on, the clock ticking louder in my head than the monotonous hum of Riley’s voice. My boss was kind—a little dull, but I had no complaints. He was a fair leader who respected his employees.
I shifted in my chair, trying to offer him the same respect he always gave me, but my eyes kept flickering to the bottom right of my laptop screen—4:52 p.m. Eightmore minutes, and I was free. Not that I had anything thrilling to do, but at least I could grab a latte and pretend today didn’t suck.
Riley was still talking about risk assessments, something about mortality rates. Or was it annuity tables? I stopped listening ten minutes ago.
I glanced around the conference room, noting the familiar faces: all of them older, mostly men, nodding along as if these numbers were their passion. I wondered if that was the case or if they were as checked out as I was.
Don’t get me wrong. I liked numbers. Numbers were reliable, methodical; they behaved according to my direction, unlike art, which had a mind of its own. Whenever I plugged numbers into an equation, I got exactly what I expected. Whenever I painted, I ended up with something unintended.
There was safety in numbers. It made sense why I had chosen them over art years ago. But no combination of numbers could solve the gap in my heart.
I sighed internally because any noise in this room felt like a betrayal to the attentiveness I tried to portray. I wasn’t unhappy, exactly. The job was stable, the salary was good, and nobody was terrible to work with. But the days felt like they melted into each other, a series of endless calculations and the same predictable conversations.
My friends used to tease me when I landed this position.“An actuary?”They’d laugh. “That’s the safest job ever. You’ll never get fired!”
It was a good thing, though. Job security.
My stomach rumbled softly, and I glanced down at my notepad, where I’d half-heartedly doodled geometric shapes in the margins. There were actual notes, too. I wasn’t completely irresponsible.
Riley wrapped up his monologue, and there was a momentof shuffling as everyone pretended they hadn’t been zoning out. “Thanks, everyone,” he said, voice as neutral as ever.
I was halfway out of my chair when he turned to me and commented, “Great work this week, Kira.” His curly mustache shifted when he smiled. Riley checked the watch on his wrist, an expensive Rolodex, and excused himself.
Great. Now I felt guilty for feeling bad.
I muttered a polite, “Thank you,” to nobody in particular as I filed out.
Downstairs, Britney sat behind the counter of the almost empty café. Her bright red hair was pulled into a high bun, a few strands hugging her heart-shaped face. When she spotted me, she set down her heavy textbook and sent me a kind smile.
“A little late for a chai latte, isn’t it?” Britney asked, but she was already reaching for the jar on the shelf.
“It’s been a long day,” I said, leaning against the counter while she prepared the drink in a to-go cup.
The floor-to-ceiling windows of the café let in the last glimpses of the sun we’d see today. I needed some sunshine and caffeine after spending half a day stuck in a presentation and the other half correcting Riley’s gross misuse of ellipses in his reports.
“You’re quiet today,” Britney stated as she handed me the chai.
To a social butterfly like Britney, my silence was unusual. I didn’t know how to explain to her that it was my default setting. Our friendship had taken time to grow because of it.
