He gives me a moment to think about his words before adding, “If we challenge it, there’s a decent chance it gets bigger before it gets better.”
I already know what he means.
Complaint.
Response.
Follow-up article.
People discovering opinions they didn’t know they had.
And suddenly I’m not Watch Manager Hart anymore.
I’m the emotional feminist who complained.
Josh watches me for a moment before continuing.
“I don’t want you feeling like you have to make some big stand if you don’t want to.” Josh wraps his hands around his mug. “And if you’d rather let it go because you don’t want more attention, I’ll support that too.”
I turn towards the window.
Jamie is now sitting in the passenger seat pretending to drive while explaining something with sweeping arm movements.
Samantha has acquired a high-vis vest that reaches her ankles and is directing traffic cone placement with complete confidence.
Two grown firefighters appear to have accepted her authority.
I watch her for a moment.
Then I say, “I don’t want to become some modern-day Joan of Arc.”
Amanda lets out a quiet laugh.
“Fair,” Josh says.
I slide my fingers through my cropped hair making it stand up in messy spikes.
“I don’t want statements and discussions and inspirational LinkedIn posts about resilience.”
Amanda nearly snorts tea.
Josh’s mouth twitches but he recovers quickly.
I shake my head.
“I don’t want to become somebody who gets invited onto panels because she once complained about an article.”
The words hang there for a second.
Then I look back outside.
Samantha is explaining something to Kev with complete certainty.
He’s listening with the expression of a man being briefed before a major operation.
I watch her and say quietly, “But I also don’t really want her dealing with the same crap in thirty years.”
I shrug.
