–Me: He isn’t that kind of person.
–Dad: Everyone wants to grab a Big Mac from time to time. For a change of pace after eating nothing but veal.
Okay, that’s it.He might as well have reached through the screen and slapped me. His words make me bleed because he isn’t just flinging random insults, hoping one of them sticks. He’s amplifying my fears and insecurities. Things I’ve always wondered and worried about.
I can strive to be a better person. I can work to become better read, more informed…kinder, even. But I can’t become a carbon copy of Mom. I can’t be the glamorous and perfect pinnacle of female beauty. And the thing is, I know Dad isn’t the only person who wants me to. Owen was the same. And my other exes, too.
In every single one of my failed relationships, I was the one who wasn’t good enough. I had to change the way I looked, the way I felt, the way I lived my life, and if I didn’t want to, then it was “Bye-bye, Molly. It’s not me, it’s you.”
–Me: You know what? I know where I fit in better than you, so you don’t have to harp on it all the time. I have to go to a meeting. Please don’t text me again unless it’s life or death.
This will get him to quit—he hates being disruptive when I have to work. He might think I don’t measure up in relationship and interpersonal stuff, but he takes my career seriously enough. Probably because being an accountant isrespectable, which means it doesn’t embarrass him when he has to talk about me to other people.
I turn to my laptop to wrap up my report. I want to spend my lunch break searching for an apartment. Much as I want to devote time looking for a new job away from Jack, I also can’t stay at Nicholas’s place forever. He said I could live there as long as I want, but I don’t want to be a total freeloader.
At twelve, a couple of knocks come from my door. “Yes?”
“Hey, it’s me. Arturo.” The doorknob rattles. “I think your door is stuck.”
“Hold on.” I get up, unlock the door and open it. He’s standing in the corridor alone.
He gives me a strange look. “You lock your office?”
“Yeah. Security reasons.” I’d rather not tell him I do it to make sure Jack can’t just visit me whenever he feels like. Arturo might share Elaine’s opinions, and I’ve had enough disappointment in humanity for one day. My office is tiny and lacks windows. Although I’m not one hundred percent certain Jack would do more than just stare at my breasts, I don’t want to take the chance. With music pounding in the workout area, nobody would hear even if I screamed bloody murder.
Arturo glances around. “I’d go claustrophobic, bro.”
“Different strokes, bro.”
He clears throat. “Yeah, so… I’m not here to discuss your office or anything. Just wondering if you wanted to have lunch together. I didn’t do anything special for your birthday, so my treat.” He smiles.
“Oh, that’s really sweet! But I brought a sandwich. So thanks, but sorry.”
He shrugs, massive traps bunching on both sides of his neck. “Oh. Okay.”
“Maybe next time.” I feel bad about turning him down. He might be trying to make friends here, although I don’t know why he didn’t ask one of the other trainers. They’d be happy to hang out with him. Our trainers are generally pretty nice. Nothing like Jack or Elaine.
“Yeah, sure. How about Thursday or Friday? I’m off on Tuesdays and Wednesdays.”
“Friday sounds great.”
His smile widens, and a dimple appears. “Great! Friday, then.”
After he’s gone, I lock the door again and return to my desk to grab my PB&J. Time to look for an apartment.
My search is disappointing.My God, what is up with the housing in Los Angeles?The only vacancies are in dangerous areas, where if you only get mugged, you’re considered lucky.
Maybe I need to be more plugged in or something. I search for a real estate agent and email a guy named Rob who has lots of glowing testimonials.
I spend the last few minutes of my lunch break sending out more résumés. Somebody’s bound to need an experienced accountant, even if they suspect I might not be serious about switching jobs. Get Jacked’s pay for my position is higher than average, and a lot of people thought I was lucky to get hired here. But if that’s what’s holding back many of these companies, they should consider the possibility that there’s a reason I’m trying to leave despite the excellent monetary compensation. Whatever extra I get at Get Jacked is hazard pay for having to put up with the owner.
I toss the Saran wrap into the trash can, then pick up my phone when it pings, praying it isn’t Dad again. But it’s Nicholas, and my frown turns into a smile.
–Nicholas: I’m going to be late today, so don’t wait up. You want anything in particular for dinner?
–Me: If you’re okay with a late dinner, I can wait and we can go out.
–Nicholas: I was going to ask the chef to fix something for you. She comes by every day during the week.
