The blue progress bar currently crawling across my computer screen, so slowly that I keep thinking it’s stalled, has no concern for all the extra time it’s giving me to dwell on my regrets and think of what I should have done differently. No, this upload of some new illustrations I’m sharing with Margie is just taking its sweet time.
It’s a pretty quiet Tuesday afternoon in my sad little TV-traycorner. Margie is preparing to put some of my drawings up for sale as prints on Friends of Flavor’s merch site. They drew up a special new contract for me and everything, laying out a payment structure for the rights to sell and use my art, and I emailed it to my parents’ lawyer to review before I signed. It’s both exciting and intimidating, these creations of mine being available for purchase—actually making me money—and landing in strangers’ hands and homes across the world. But mostly exciting. If this is the only lasting impression I make at Friends of Flavor, it’s something I’ll be proud of long after I’m gone.
I haven’t become any less confident that I’ll be gone pretty soon. Since the drama at UltiCon over a week ago, no one’s said anything to me about the picture or the incident at the demo. The only one who’s even tried is Benny, but I’ve continued to tell him that I need space. We’ve filmed one new episode ofAmateur Hour,in which Benny and I did our best at acting normal for the cameras while he destroyed me in a flatbread pizza competition (Benny—5, Reese—4,but who’s counting?) before returning to our stilted noncommunication once filming was over. But mostly, Margie’s kept me busy in marketing with a mix of social media engagement and working on my own designs on the clock. This has, for the most part, made it hard for me to dwell in my own head during the workday, leaving me to obsess over the trolls, my stalled relationship, and impending job decisions during after-work hours.
But boy, have I been busy obsessing on my lonely, Benny-less evenings and weekends. I’ve run our last conversation at UltiCon over and over in my head, what was said and what wasn’t. I lie awake late into each night thinking of all of the ways I wish I’d communicated better and the things I wish I’d heard back from him. Between all that and the many ignored “please, let’s talk” missives from the guy who may or may not still be my boyfriend, I’ve started to realize there’s more for both of us to say.
And maybe, I think as I sit there feeling tired and sad during this lull in activity, it doesn’t matter whether the universe cares about my problems. It only matters whether I care enough to fix them myself—to make the conversation that Benny and I clearly need to have happen. My eyelids droop millimeter by millimeter, in time with the speed of this file upload. When I lean back in my seat and stretch my arms over my head, the urge to yawn finally winning out, I feel a disconcerting series of pops from a few different places in my body.
Yep, that’s it. It’s time to take a lap and find Benny.
We’ll figure out a time to get together, clear the air. I don’t know quite what I want for our future, but I’m woman enough to admit I’ve missed him and that all the unresolved stuff between us is making me nutty. And kind of miserable.
I pass through Prep Kitchen 1 with no sign of him, and I’m about to turn in to PK 2, when I hear the familiar, booming voice of Geoffrey Block, CEO.Ugh.Since we met, I’ve tried toavoid him when I catch word that he’s visiting the office, which feels too frequent for someone who lives two states away.
I’m about to retreat when I hear Benny’s laugh. A laugh seemingly in response to something Geoffrey Block, CEO, has said. Or perhaps, I think hopefully, the older man has slipped on a banana peel. Benny could be laughingat,notwith.
But when I peer around the corner like some kind of cartoon spy, I see Benny, Aiden, and the CEO, all fully upright and looking like the best of pals. I slink back out of sight, dread gathering in the pit of my stomach. Maybe it’s not what it looks like. Maybe if I wait here just a second, the other two will go away and I can catch Benny alone.
The dread is quickly joined by fear, the two feelings ganging up on me and sending pinpricks down my spine. They’re in my head, whispering,This is when the other shoe drops.
“…and it’ll be awesome, Benny, really. I bet it’s such a relief for you, too,” I hear Aiden say. Curiosity is fully piqued. Dread and fear remain.
“Indeed. I’m sure everyone here will be glad you’re sticking around, son.” This from Geoffrey Block, CEO, and…I’m sorry,what?Surely he is not saying what I think he’s saying.
“Congratulations, big guy. Seattle’s lucky to have you for the long haul,” Aiden adds.
“Thanks, guys. Yeah, I’m really excited about it,” Benny says, and I can even hear the smile in his voice.
What. The. Ever-loving. F—
“So for Thursday, we’ll probably try a mid-afternoon slot for your livestream. Since it’s a new format for us, we’re still working out the details as far as which time draws the best audience without making you and the film crew stay late…”
I tune out the rest of Aiden’s explanation as I turn and head back down the hall. I suddenly feel like I’m trudging through thick mud instead of across clean office tile, each step heavier as the conversation I just overheard sinks in.
They’ve totally offered Benny the fall internship. Already, and without a word to me. And from the sound of things, he’s accepted.
I mean, I’m not surprised that it’s him. I’ve been here for all of it, UltiCon and the online hate, the fact that Aiden seems to talkatme more often than to me while Benny is his little protégé, and Geoffrey Block, CEO, is hardly aware of my existence beyond my legs. I get it. Benny is charismatic, a great cook, beloved by audiences—he’s the obvious choice.
But even knowing all this, it hurts. And it could just be the hurt talking, but I like to think that if I’d been offered the job, I would’ve talked to Benny about it before officially accepting. It’s not like we’re married, or even really dating at this point, but it would feel like the respectful thing to do, to give a little notice.
Maybe I’m being unfair. Maybe I should just be happy for him, this guy I care for so much even though we’re not speaking. But I feel the sting in my eyes that says tears are imminent. Iblink them back, trying to steel myself as I head back to marketing. I straighten my posture and attempt to hold my chin high, but it trembles, so I focus on my feet. One foot in front of the other, till I make it out of here at the end of the day.
Because after everything, I’ll feel so stupid if I cry at work. Like a little girl who didn’t get the part she wanted in the elementary school play. I have to handle this as maturely as possible, because you never know who is watching and what respect you might lose the moment you let them see you cry.
Idocare about Benny, and I want every good thing to come his way. But if this decision was so instantaneous for him, if he sounded so purely happy about it without even a hint of dismay that his success means my loss…well, does he care about me?
He texts me about an hour before the workday is through.
Benny:Hey, I know you’ve asked for space, and I’ll keep giving it to you, but I have some exciting news I really want to tell you. Soon. Please, R? I’ll throw in some ice cream on me if you’ll walk home with me today
My stomach sinks.Seriously?That’s how he’s gonna frame it when he tells me that he got the job we’ve both been vying for? Honestly, I think I’d prefer an ominous “we need to talk.”
I’m starting to shift from just plain sad to sad and fuming. I don’t answer Benny’s text. The more I think about it, the more confident I feel that if I try to have this conversation with him today, I’ll say something I regret.
I push my chair back and stand abruptly, then march over to Margie’s desk.
“Reese,” she says before I can begin, taking her reading glasses off as she peers up at me. “Everything okay? You seem tense today.”
