Javonte: I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you. I thought you’d love it.
I stare at that message for a long time with my thumb hovering over the screen. He still doesn’t understand, and that hurts more than the studio.
I type one sentence before I can talk myself out of it.
Me: I don’t want to talk tonight.
He responds almost immediately.
Javonte: Okay.
Then another message comes through.
Javonte: I’ll give you space.
I put the phone down and let out a breath that shakes on the way out.
Jacquetta is standing at my office door when I get to work, holding a folder thick enough to ruin my morning.
“Good, you’re here,” she says.
She makes no attempt to treat me like a person. Not did you sleep well after your personal life fell apart in a beautifully renovated studio space?
Just ‘Good, you’re here’.
I set my bag down slowly. “Morning.”
“We’ve got a packed day. I want you shadowing me in the leadership escalation at nine, then you’ll sit in on the complaint review at ten-thirty. After lunch, I need you to draft the mediation summary from yesterday, and at four we’ll prep for the supervisor coaching session.”
I stare at her.
She smiles her HR smile. “Exciting, right?”
That is one word for it.
My phone buzzes in my purse, and I know it’s not Javonte because he said he would give me space. Somehow, that makes my chest ache more.
“Very exciting,” I say.
Jacquetta nods like I passed the test. “This is what leadership looks like. The higher you go, the more people need you.”
That sounds terrible.
She hands me the folder. “Read through this before nine. There are some interpersonal dynamics at play.”
Interpersonal dynamics means somebody has been acting a fool, and now everyone has to use professional language around it.
“Got it.”
Jacquetta walks away, and I sit down at my desk, staring at the folder for a few seconds before I open it. There are witness statements, screenshots of emails, a timeline, and a summary page with so many acronyms I briefly consider quitting right then and there.
This is what I’ve been promoted into. I’m dealing with higher stakes and longer hours and fewer clean endings.
I open my laptop and pull up my calendar. It’s covered in blocks. Meetings stacked on meetings. A lunch that is not lunch. Four o’clock prep that will absolutely run until five-thirty because people with power love starting serious conversations at the end of the day.
My Lit with Lily email notification pops up in the corner.
Birthday party inquiry.
