“It’s not you. It’s definitely him. He’s a jerk,” Mandy said.
Orchid wondered how she could trust, when almost no one ever stayed. Maybe guys could sense the void where her family used to be. Who wanted to deal with filling that? Like an adept seamstress, Orchid carefully stitched over that need. A temporary patch over a wound that was sure to reopen.
CHAPTER3
RESILIENT ORCHID
Orchid
In those moments of post-slumber and consciousness, the boundaries loosened between Orchid’s past and her possible futures. She floated from a primal state of fear into reality. On this particular morning, sunlight blanketed her comforter, twisted from another night of terror.
Outside, the sound of horns oriented her and told her she was not alone. The city was always there. The sight of her phone was an anchor, securing her to the present, her life in New York, her apartment, her workday. Eight a.m. Past the time she’d intended to rise. There was just enough time to make the meeting she’d requested with her boss.
Her feet hit the floor. She hurried through her morning routine, skipping coffee in case her commute was delayed.
She dashed through her living room, vaguely noting how sunshine spilled over her furniture. Her favorite one-armed fainting couch beckoned. There was no time for chilling.
At the door, she unhinged the security bar and twisted the deadbolt. Outside, she heard the bolt lock with a satisfying clunk.
She peeled down the hallway to the elevator, then slowed her pace in the lobby. “Morning! How’s your daughter feeling today?” she greeted her doorman.
“Better, her fever broke last night. Have a good day!”
She headed to the subway, glad that his daughter was doing better. She’d remember to buy their favorite crescent-rolled rugelach pastries on the way home from work.
In the station, she hung back from the edge of the platform. Standing too close to a speeding train always seemed like an unnecessary risk.
She squeezed into the least-packed subway car. Her thoughts swayed along with the click-clack of two-ton wheels screeching along bare metal, and she told herself to focus on the day ahead. She wanted this assignment almost as much as she had wanted to join the excitement of the beauty industry following her MBA.
But this was different. China had always seemed a place of mystery, even though her mother’s ancestry gave her a direct link to the country. Her mother rarely spoke about her parents’ turmoil of leaving behind family, property, and wealth when they fled the Communist regime in 1948. When stories did emerge, they were relayed in whispered tones that alerted Orchid to secrets and shadowy unknowns. Since no one spoke of it openly, China had formed in her imagination as an unreachable and mystical place.
And now? She sensed that this might be the one place where she could feel most connected to her mother. Maybe even find forgiveness?
From the subway station, it was a brisk walk to the GM building, taking her past the Apple logo suspended from a two-story-high glass cube.
Inside her building, it was forty floors up to the Estee Lauder offices.
Orchid loved the allure of the ads lining sage-shaded walls. This company was the one place where her efforts had a chance of yielding results. Work hard enough, and a career could be her ticket to financial freedom. Because she sure wasn’t going to get that from any inheritance.
The front desk receptionist greeted her. “Happy Friday!”
“You too. I love your hair,” Orchid said.
“You do?” she asked, primping her highlights. “Wish I could pull off your wild colors.”
Orchid thanked her and headed towards her desk, while wondering if her blue-tinted hair harmed her chances for this assignment. She made a mental note to schedule a salon appointment.I’m taking no chances.
She grabbed a mug of coffee and hurried to the media room. Her boss, Joan, was already there sporting a no-nonsense, square-necked suit and more rings than fingers.
“Good morning, Orchid,” Joan greeted her, phone in hand. “We’ll talk later,” she said into the mouthpiece, then turned to focus on Orchid.
Orchid smiled. “Thanks for this meeting. How are you?” She sank into a chair and placed her computer on the table.
“Great. Your friend Princeton was just presenting team training ideas to me. How are you?"
Orchid felt her nose wrinkle at the mention of Princeton. He was nofriend, this guy who lorded his Ivy League background over her. Instead, he’d leveraged his privileged background to catapult himself into leadership thinking of him as top talent.
She pried open her laptop and switched to a topic she knew her boss would find interesting. “I’m good, thanks. We finished consumer interviews for the new men’s skin care line, and have a lot of insights. First, there’s a segment of males who don’t care; they’ll wash their face with the same soap they’re slathering everywhere else. Then there’s a growing group who wants to age well, or at least show up well on dating apps, but they don’t want to follow any more than a step or two. We call them one-and-done.”
