Tracy and Ron have already moved most of their things over to their new offices in the College of Health and Human Performance building. All my former coworkers are gone, already starting, or about to start, their new jobs. Willa told me yesterday that she likes her new position.
I’m happy for all of them. But there’s this undercurrent of hope inside of me that can’t help but wonder if something can be done now that there’s all this money just sitting here, waiting to be used.
On my drive to work, Willa calls. Her scream when I answer makes me jump.
“Know any good ear, nose, and throat doctors?” I manage, twisting my finger in my ear to get the ringing to stop. “I’m gonna need some ear treatment now.”
“Sorry,” she says, only slightly quieter. “You have single handedly saved the center!”
“Whoa. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Willa.”
“That’s some serious change you’ve brought in, so it’s bound to make a difference somehow.”
“I hope so, but I really don’t know what’s going to happen.” MJ’s olive eyes and soft-as-a-cloud light brown hair drift into my consciousness. A pang reverberates out along my limbs.
“Well, I’m just honored to be best friends with a freaking rockstar,” Willa says.
“If we’d done the fundraiser sooner, though, maybe we all could have kept our jobs. If by some chance this money can go towards reopening the center, will you come back, please?”
There’s a pause on the other end. “I told you. I like my new job.”
“And I’m glad,” I say. “But also, ouch.”
“I miss you! I miss everybody, especially the kids. But this one is a new challenge for me.”
I get it. And I’m trying not to feel sad about it, too. When I walk through the front door, Tracy’s there at reception wiping off the front desk with a big, damp towel.
“Charlotte!” she cries, setting down the towel and running to me. She crushes me in a hug. As much as my work family has felt like a real family to me, we haven’t hugged much to maintain professionalism. But now, we won’t be coworkers anymore.
“Hey, Tracy,” I say. “I can’t believe this day is here.”
She tsks and then smiles brightly. “And I can’t believe you created that fundraiser! There are so many dollar bills at our disposal now. Thank you so much.” Her eyes shine with tears.
“It was just a last-ditch effort that turned out, I guess.”
“Turned out? We’re all floored at the amount of money. And there were some famous people, athletes and others, who made some big donations! Did you see the biggest one? The one for fifty grand? That one’s anonymous, but I’m guessing I know who it is.” She winks and my cheeks flood with heat.
Taysom. It’s got to be him, right? He donated nearly half of what we’ve gotten so far.
I just shake my head and avoid acknowledging anything. I know people have surmised online that we’re together—that we’re dating. And maybe they’re right. At least for now, we’ll just go along with whatever this is.
But my heart burns as Taysom comes to the front of my mind. He’s suddenly become so much to me. I ache to see him even now. It’s nearly 8:00—can I text him yet?
I hold back, though. There’s so much to say. So much to express, that I hardly even know how to thank him. And I’d really like to thank him in person.
I get to work, finishing unloading my desk, three years of odds and ends that have crept up, accumulated, and filled in all the spaces.
Finally, at 9:00, I text Taysom, asking him to look at the fundraiser total and to pat himself on the back. Except, I’m pretty sure that fifty grand was from him, so he probably already knows. Looks like he made the donation right as he got home last night.
Do I thank him for the more-than-generous gift? Do I pretend I don’t know it’s him? What’s the protocol for secret donations to save the center I adore?
I plan to thank him with my lips as soon as I see him, but as time wears on and I load my things on a dolly, I still don’t hear back from him.
Ron comes out of his office. He just got his casts off, so his arms are almost as white as mine under his short-sleeved, green button down.
“Hello, Charlotte. Can I see you in my office, please?”
Tracy squeezes my arm and returns to polishing the front desk. Leave things better than you found them, eh? Maybe it’s a point of pride for her after all these years.
