Hiding in the Advice Column

4.

I groaned as I ran a finger down the scratch. Someone scratched up my car. Now it sticks out since I've noticed it. The shiny red with a deep scratch on the driver's door.

"Perfect." I mumbled as I locked it. No note, no apology from who did it. Why are people so rude? I don't care it happened, but an apology would have been nice.

I walked to the building, my heels clicking on the cement as I rushed to work. I had an epiphany last night about one of my letters and it got me thinking.

I noticed the male clientele and decided to do a whole page to them. I hit the elevator button as I waited.

Most males that write, I noticed are about love. It was rare to find one about friendships or children/parental advice with the males. That struck me as weird because I would assume that they would be reading their girlfriends or wife's magazines. Not single blokes asking on how to ask a girl out, how to woo her or even get their ex back.

The elevator doors open as I stepped in and grabbed my hair, quickly pulling it in to a plait and tying it off.

The doors opened again and I stepped off, memorising another line that I thought of earlier for one of the letters. Something about trying to give a teenage daughter some space...

I bypassed the coffee station, a one track mind and tunnel vision happening as I went straight to the computer and typed immediately.

I couldn't exactly remember the full letter, but I had a very decent paragraph for it. Once I had typed up what I wanted, I took my bag off and went to the coffee station, making my drink.

I felt quite proud of myself, with that response, but the trick now was to find the original letter. I read it yesterday and it stayed in my head.

"Rhea!"

I turned to see Jan coming to me.

"How's your son?" She asked. I liked that about my boss, she knows parents have children for responsibilities as well.

"He is good. Just too much time in the sun, not enough water." I smiled.

"Since we are expanding our magazine, I thought we would get a bit personal and have a snippet of each person that works here."

I felt the blood drain from my face.

"Giving the magazine a whole new look. Fresh, intimate, personal."

I sighed. "Jan, why do you think my pen name is R? Because I don't want people knowing it's me outside of here."

Jan gave me a stern look.

"How many people in your lifetime have you come across named Rhea?" I asked her.

Jan brushed me off. "Then make up a name starting with R."

"Fine."

Jan smiled. "Great. I'll get a photographer in to take a snap."

I stepped to her. "Wait. A photo too?"

Jan pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "I guess you don't agree with that either?"

"Ah, can I get back to you on that?" I grimaced. "Besides, the longer I stand here and chat, the less work I get done." I grinned before stepping away from her. I quickly rushed to my office with my coffee.

I don't want the whole city, the state, even the continent know I'm Rhea. I'm happy with my very small group of friends and acquaintances. I'm happy with my readers knowing me as R.

I sighed as I stared at the computer screen. I need to find that letter. I rummaged through the open envelopes of the letters, rereading each one.

"Found it." I whispered to myself as I turned to the computer. The dilemma of the photo still on my head.