This job has been no different. I wrote Aidan’s meeting in my notebook because I knew I’dseeit there and be less likely to forget it. I covered my desk with Post-it notes so I’d remember what I needed to do. I moved his drafting table so I could finish one of my sketches this morning, to help with the project he’s stuck with because of me.
All I ever fuckingdois try, and no one sees it.
All they see are the ways I don’t measure up.
I’m exhausted as I climb the steps to my apartment. It’s only nine in the morning, but I feel like I’ve run a marathon; limbs heavy and numb, head pounding, lungs tight.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I reach for my keys, and I pull it out to see a text from Dad.
Dad: Where the hell are you?
My heart lurches.
Shit.
There’s an icy trickle down my spine as the reality of the situation hits me. I was supposed to get Aidan’s coffee, but somehow I ended up here. Anyone else would have sucked it up and just gotten on with things, but not me.
Not Iris, the fuck-up.
Tears well in my eyes, and I press a hand to my forehead to hold them back. I can’t do anything right. No matter what I do, no matter how good my intentions, it feels like I’m not built for this world. Like I’m missing the rulebook that everyone else knows to follow.
I reread Dad’s text, an ache stirring in my chest. Justonce, I’d like a message from him asking if I’m okay. A note from Mom to see if my day is going well. She hasn’t once checked in since I started at the firm, despite knowing it wouldn’t be easy for me, and resentment brews in my belly. She’s not that kind of mom.They’renot those kinds of parents.
Instead, I type out a shaky email to Debbie in HR telling her something has come up and I’m taking a personal day. Dad will be angry, but I have rights. I’m entitled to a day to myself.
But knowing that doesn’t stop my hands from trembling as I let myself into my apartment. It doesn’t stop the mean voices in my head reminding me I can’t get anything right.
And as I close the door, sealing myself into the safety of my apartment, I finally let myself cry.
It’slate afternoon when I wake. I hadn’t planned to sleep, but after bingeing a morning’s worth ofBrooklyn 99, I found myself crawling into bed and dozing off, wanting to forget the world.
But now my head pounds, and I roll over in bed to rummage for painkillers in the nightstand, careful not to disturb the half-finished embroidery hoop lying where I left it six months ago, thread still trailing from the needle. Ugh, there’s nothing. With great effort, I gingerly descend the ladder, crossing the hall to the bathroom to find some Tylenol. I down it and turn to the tub, wanting nothing more than to sink into some bubbles and forget today. There’s a scented candle at the end, one I made last year and gifted to Eric, and I light it, then twist my hair up on top of my head as the tub fills. I’m easing myself into the warm water when a knock comes at the door.
“Iris, honey?” It’s Eric. “Are you in there?”
I freeze. As much as I love him, I can’t face him right now. My body might be covered with a mountain of bubbles—and I don’t think he’d care, even if it wasn’t—but my face is puffy, my eyes red. I don’t feel like seeinganyonein this state.
“I’m in the tub,” I reply through the door.
There’s a pause, then, “Any chance I could come in? I need to get ready.”
Damn. Of course. He’s got rehearsals.
I sigh, glancing around. There’s a sheet mask in the open medicine cabinet, and I grab it, tearing the packet open and quickly covering my face.
“Come in,” I call, making sure the bubbles are keeping me decent.
The door opens, and he gives me a sheepish look as he closes it again behind himself. “Sorry.” He grins as he takes in the bubbles, the candle, the face mask. “Ooh, doing a little pampering, are we?”
“Something like that,” I mumble. I motion to his candle. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Knock yourself out.”
I lean my head back with a long sigh, hoping he’ll be quick, but he seems to be in the mood to chat.
“How’s the new job?” he asks, dotting eye cream under his eyes.
“It’s… fine.” The word comes out a little strangled, not even convincing to my own ears. Eric pauses, meeting my gaze in the mirror.
