“Very nice,” Ms.Coolidge said.“How about you?”
She nodded to Misty, signaling the moment of truth.“Hi, I’m Marisa Kaufman, also from New York, and everyone calls me Misty.My background is in track too.I ran in college, and my kickball team just set a new record in the city league championships.”
She was rewarded with a bunch of blank stares.As Ms.Coolidge nodded and moved on to the next girl (another All-American, this one for swimming), it occurred to her that Spencer had at least congratulated her on her achievement and not made her feel ridiculous.The thought sent another twinge to her chest.She looked out the window in search of a distraction, but the almost bare trees on this stretch of empty road didn’t offer enough of one.
Chapter Nineteen
Someone tapped theside of the cubicle.“You done with your client reports?”
Spencer looked up from his report.“Winding down now.”
“Okay.Just wondered because they’re coming due.”
“I know.”This was the one part of his job Spencer didn’t like.He took comfort in the knowledge that the paperwork was only a small portion of it, as opposed to the entire day it had taken up at the insurance office.He forced himself to buckle down and get through it.
As he got ready to go, a former client greeted him.He smiled in recognition at the recently minted guidance counselor.“How’ve you been?”
“Pretty good.Things are a little hectic at school now, what with early decision college applications and all, but swimming helps de-stress me.”
“That’s good, and you look great.”His eyes were bright, and his upper body looked more toned than when he and Spencer first met.
“Thanks in part to you.I didn’t think I liked exercise, but you pointed me toward something I like doing and even look forward to.”Seeing firsthand how he’d been able to help people — now that was something Spencer liked about his job.The encounter lifted his spirits and buoyed him up the stairs when he got home.
He unlocked his front door and gaped at his apartment in horror.A drawer hung open, wet towels were dropped on the floor, and the entire place smelled like last night’s dinner.He ducked his head into the sleeping alcove to confirm his fears.Between the scattered pillows and tossed covers, the bed looked like a bomb had hit it.
Worst of all, one bowl of half-eaten ramen sat on his nightstand.Another had spilled on the rug, leaving congealed noodles, limp greens, and a small continent of a stain.
It looked like someone had broken in, but he had only himself to blame.Himself and Misty.He sighed and started cleaning, kicking himself for not being more careful with leftovers that would’ve tasted great today.All the while, he hoped to God the food hadn’t attracted pests and the towels hadn’t been there long enough to lead to mildew.
After he’d taken out the garbage, he opened his fridge in search of something else for dinner.The door was lined with protein shakes, and the shelves were dotted with odd produce and packages of meat he didn’t feel up to cooking tonight.The freezer revealed a stack of Trader Joe’s meals that he didn’t remember buying, but he probably had an occasion like this in mind when he did.He watched his dinner rotate in the microwave and felt confronted with a sense that his life had taken a downturn.
****
About three hundredmiles away, Misty joined the rest of the bobsled combine for dinner at a five-star lodge near the hotel.The tables were pushed together to form one long banquet table big enough to accommodate forty-some women.A meal card had come with the paperwork, almost like a wedding invitation, and the waitstaff came out with the food once everyone was seated.
“How’s yours?”Misty asked Tish around a mouthful of beef tenderloin.
