She walked down the white-oak luxury vinyl plank floor. Instead of her heels clicking like they normally did, her feet slipped quietly over the floor in ballet flats. Her physical stature was as diminished as her current work status.
She tried to keep her head up as she passed the rows of cubicles, keeping her smile tight and her face a mask. At least there was a safe place at the end of this hall.
Dedra would be there, and maybe somehow they could figure out a way to get things back on track, even if they weren’t on the level Kenya hoped they would be.
Kenya pushed open her office door.
Dedra was at her desk as usual but not sitting behind it. Instead, she stood in front of it. Her area seemed emptier than Kenya remembered. Her assistant was picking up items and setting them carefully in a box on top of her desk.
“Dedra, what are you doing?”
Dedra ignored her and continued to place items in the box.
Kenya stepped next to her friend, leaning close to her, willing her to lift her head.
“Don’t make me say anything.” Dedra’s voice fell flat.
Kenya picked up the candle that was about to be placed in the crate. “But what is there to say? Why are you moving your things? Are you getting relocated?” Her voice came out louder than she intended, more desperate than it should be.
Dedra retrieved the candle and set it forcefully in the box, wincing as it hit the bottom with almost breakable force. “Kenya, I’m getting moved to another team. With Vance taking on more, Evelyn wants me there to assist.”
Kenya reared back, the words stinging more than any slap. Ever since the accident, Kenya’s world had been tilting on its axis, and all she could do was stumble through it, one uncontrollable scenario at a time.
She took a breath. “Why can’t you help him from here?”
Dedra released a mirthless laugh. “I wish, because you know I love this space, but Evelyn wants me on their floor.” She averted her eyes, but Kenya still saw the truth that she already knew. The position of creative director was not hers and neither was Dedra’s consistent support.
She could deal with the topsy-turvy if it was just about her. But to have it affect someone she cared for? Kenya pressed her hand to her chest, unable to look her friend in the eye, shame infiltrating her senses so strongly she couldn’t see past the blur of it.
“I’m so sorry.” Her voice sounded far away, so weak.
“Don’t be.” Dedra’s voice softened. She dropped more items into the box until there was no longer the harsh sound of them hitting the bottom, each piece cushioned by the one that went before. “I’m still around. Just not in the same way as before.”
Dedra stepped away, her footfalls receding until the opening and closing of the door jolted Kenya out of her stupor and left her with the brunt of accusation. This was all her fault and there was nothing she could do.
SOLOMON SCANNEDthe waiting room of the Optima Clinic. Their usual spot looked bereft and empty. Even the fake plant seemed droopier than normal. He should just call her instead of sitting out here in the waiting room foolishly thinking she would hobble through the front door like nothing had happened. Instead, the receptionist had handed him a folder Kenya dropped off while he was at his morning shift at the hospital.
He hadn’t seen Kenya in over two weeks. He gave her space the first week, too caught up in his own doubts to say anything that would matter. The next week he caught her on the phone, but she’d rushed off, citing preparation for some investors’ tour.
He needed to see her. Hear her voice. At least take a step toward something before he dove headfirst into his studies.
Solomon took out his phone.
She answered on the third ring.
“Hey, Kenya.”
“Hey, Solomon.” He loved when she said his name, but the way it came out now was hurried.
“Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Um, I actually don’t.”
“I understand.” He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice.
“I—” She paused, and he could hear sounds in the background echoing in what sounded like an emptier space. “But maybe we can find another time.”
“Are you moving?”
