“Mmm-hmm.”Katherine exhales through her nose.Her shoulders sag.The joy has vanished.“That’s ...fine.Of course.”Another pause.“So, he didn’t feel the chemistry was there?”
Another pause.Her head lowers, and I can’t stop staring at her tall and slender figure.She looks polished and immaculate, the type of woman who is always in control, but now I’m witnessing that control slip and I’m suddenly uncomfortable.This isn’t about business.This is about a date that didn’t work out.About someone she liked, and who didn’t like her back.
“I ...I understand.Of course.Alignment matters.”She gives a tight, humorless laugh.
I feel uneasy sitting here.Katherine is such a private person and she’s forgotten that I’m here, listening to her personal heartache.
“I would appreciate the feedback, yes.”Her body visibly crumples, and I feel so bad for her in this moment.
Her voice thins.“Too ...guarded?” A pause.“Too ...senior?” she cries.“He’s only four years older than me!”
My insides turn all woozy.I really shouldn’t be here.Katherine wouldnot,in a million years,want me to hear this.
She scoffs.“That is interesting.Well, I’m not twenty-five, and I don’t giggle after a glass of wine.”She inhales a deep breath, and I contemplate quietly tiptoeing out of here.She straightens up and stands tall, getting back into Katherine mode, as if she’s putting her armor back on.“Please thank him for his honesty, and thankyou.I appreciate the feedback, even if it’s not ...easy to take.”
She nods, as she listens.
“Very much so.Please continue looking for me.I’ll review the next profile when you send it through.”She folds her arms, still staring out of the window, and I stay where I am, paralyzed into inaction.Heart beating, blood coursing through my veins.Just as I’m about to stand up to leave, she turns around and sees me, her expression changing to one of utter surprise.
She’d forgotten I was here.Her being this vulnerable is something she’d never want me to witness.I stand up, unsure of what to do.She sits down without a word, then rubs her temples as she rolls her head back on the headrest.
“I’m sorry.I should have left the moment your phone rang—”
“It’s okay,” she says, making me pause.I’m caught off guard by the unexpected answer and I don’t know what to make of it.
“I feel like I did it all wrong,” she murmurs to herself.“And yet I’d make the same choices again, given the chance.”
“Did what wrong?”I whisper, feeling unsure of whether I should even be asking.
“I chose career over family, love, and children.I don’t regret that choice, but I … I sometimes wish I had someone to come home to at the end of the day.”
I suddenly feel sorry for her, now having had a window into her private world.
“We’re women working in an industry where the power still sits with men.As a woman I’ve had to work ten times as hard and be ten times as tough.”
I open my mouth as she pins her gaze on me.“It can’t have been easy,” I mumble.I’m not used to her being so open.Talking so freely.
“Men are called the “captains of industry,” they’re described as being bold and magnetic.Women?We’re called bitches for having balls.I know what people say about me.I know what they think of me.If you stay in this industry long enough you will experience the same pain—no matter that you might have a family and a husband to go home to.And even if you get that, you’ll struggle to keep it.”
Her words hang like needles in the air, and I suddenly feel fearful.Not because she’s cruel, but because she speaks with such conviction.I’ve never seen this whole other side to her before.Now I see her jaded and worn down by experience, fighting to stay relevant.I want to believe that she’s wrong, because one day I hope to have a man and a family who will love me unconditionally.One day, I hope to have both.But then I stop and think about it.She’s right.
Men do have all the power.
Cecil is at the top.
The board of directors are all men.
The person coming in to save the company?Zach Knight.Another man.
In this moment I see that Katherine’s insecurities don’t come from a place of bitterness, but from years spent navigating an industry where men still hold the real power.Her sharpness is a kind of armor that comes from loneliness and constant vigilance.She’s had to fight harder to stay in the room, and she probably feels that younger, smarter, ambitious people are always waiting to take her place.Maybe she’s fearful of losing relevance and she sees me as a legitimate threat.
I don’t feel angry anymore.I feel sorry for her.
She stands abruptly, as if embarrassed by how much she’s said, and starts tidying her desk.Then she freezes.“What’s this?”Something dangles from her fingers.
My stomach drops.
It’s my bracelet.The one I took off yesterday, absent-mindedly, while I was sitting at her desk, talking to Mom who’d just called.
