Maybe she feels weird around her new boss?
But even if she won’t talk to me, I’ve spent a lot of my time these last few weeks watching Ellie.
God, I soundcreepy.
In the most innocent way possible—a boss observing his new employee—kind of way.
Since I’m not leading the meeting this morning, I use it as an opportunity to take Ellie in a little more. I scan the room to make sure no one is watching me so I can let my eyes linger on her.
I feel entranced by her at times. The only time I’ve felt anything like this was when I watched the sun set over the Boracay Islands when I was eleven. The view was so mesmerizing that I forgot my family was waiting for me—they had to come drag me off the beach and back to our hotel. That was the last family vacation I had with my parents before they passed.
Her long brown hair is wavy today and she’s pinned it back, displaying every inch of her face—it scrunches up when she smiles. She has a small scar above her left eyebrow and a few freckles on her cheeks. They look soft and delicate, and my fingers tingle at the thought of touching them.
She pushes a small piece of hair behind her ear and I instinctively take a deep breath. When she passed me in the hallway this morning, I got a hint of her coconut shampoo and was immediately transported back to the beach with my family.
Her eyes twinkle as she watches Emma. They are a shade of green that reminds me of a mix of emerald trees and palm trees. Both remind me of home, and family, and a nostalgia I haven’t felt in a long time. I feel a sting in my chest every time she looks at anyone in this room but me.
My lingering has officially turned to staring, longing for her eyes to meet mine. When she does, a wave ofsomethingrushes over me. Something I haven’t felt before.
It’s aweirdfeeling—a desperate feeling.
Like she has the power to take a piece of my heart with her if she looks away.
I can sense the cringey, creeper smile my face decides to make when she smiles at me. Her cheeks go pink before she looks back at Emma.
I listen to Kate bicker with Emma about animal rights, and Malcolm is mumbling something about how, “These women will be the death of me.”
I love my job and I love these people, but they really do feel like a dysfunctional family sometimes. I’m not sure Ellie knows what she’s gotten herself into by joining it.
Ellie seems like the quieter type, but I can tell something is racing through her mind constantly. She is calculative—always carefully considering what she says and how it may affect the person she is responding to. Definitely not what anyone else does around here.
She sits next to Kate, smiling down at her notepad as everyone talks over one another. She doesn’t talk much in these meetings, but I can tell she is listening.
And drawing—Ellie draws all the time.
“Most people can’t even taste the difference if it’s vegan! She’ll never know,” Kate says.
“Oh, she’ll know,” Malcolm grumbles.
“Kate, can we please just put our personal, moral dilemmas on the back burner? At least for today.” I join the conversation before Malcolm can continue his retort. “Let’s focus on Patsy. Then, come Monday morning you can smother all of us with your homemade creams.” The words leave my mouth before my brain registers them.
“I won’t be smothered in anyone’s cream,” Malcolm pipes in, chuckling at the ridiculousness of my statement.
“That’s not . . . You know what I mean!” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Let’s focus on the task at hand.” I groan as the group chuckles at me under their breath. “Patsy is leaving Glendale after almostfortyyears, she deserves to have whatever she wants—or doesn’t want—at this party. Right?”
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Kate puts her hands up in surrender.
“Perfect, now everyone here will be in attendance.” Emma takes over the meeting again. “Minus Ellie. As well as Bill from janitorial—”
“You’re not coming?” my voice comes out squeaky as I question Ellie, which of course results in more laughs from the room. My eyes pin Ellie’s, the hopefulness of getting to see her outside of work hanging in the balance.
“Oh . . . no, unfortunately. Emma needs someone to watch the boys.” I see the dread wash over her face at the task of babysitting her nephews.
I amveryaware that she just tolerates them, and based on what I’ve seen so far, she doesn’t seem like the children type—at least not thelittlechildren type. I love Emma’s boys, they are hilarious, but every time Emma brought them in to work this week, I could see Ellie’s body tense up whenever they so much aslookedin her direction. It was quite comical watching her try and amuse them and their imaginations. I had a front-row seat to them duct-taping her to a chair, blasting her with Nerf bullets, and running away in an attempt to leave her for dead.
The idea of being taped to a chair is maddening, and I bet anyone else would have refused, but Ellie just let it happen. I could tell she had the worst time, but she never let them know, and those wildlings had the best time with her.
Ellie seems like that type of person—someone who gives more of herself so other people can feel happy. Just another beautiful thing I noticed about her.
