Never Let Them Define You

TRYING TO FIND A WAY

"Bye Josephine." She waves slowly.

Josephine storms off and heads back into the storm.

She slams the door, lays on the couch, and holds up the memo. "Dear members of the great Mills Production Company, it is our unfortunate duty to announce that work will be discontinued until further notice. Under current weather conditions, it is inadvisable to require employees to come into work. We will send another message soon through our hard-working employee Josephine. Be sure to thank her for everything she does for this company and her commitment to employee dedication no matter what. Salutations, David Mills."

Thank God for that, but it barely delays the inevitable; I'll make sure to thank Josephine by locking the door next time. She sits up and slams down the rest of her coffee, then slides her notepad in front of her, and bites down on her pencil as she flips through the pages. "A-ha," she mutters through gritted teeth and grabs her pencil. "A blank page." Well, the page is almost blank, but it has two words written on it, "Big One."

Alright, Nathaniel, I'll give you the Big One... She grins and begins to scrawl ideas such as, Dance in the nude, Paint yourself pitch black, Sing in baritone, Christmas jingles, and more. How do I screw it up? Dammit, am I really destined to be famous? She jumps up and ballet walks towards the counter, then starts another cup of coffee, and another one right beside it. Life is so hard...woe is me. She rolls her eyes and slinks back to the couch, then lands on it, and lays on her side as she stares at the Big One paper.

Suddenly, she hears another knock on the door, and squints as she looks over. She sighs and hears intense shivering from the other side of the door as she approaches, then sees Marco huddled up in a snow-streaked leather jacket as she opens the door. She looks up and down at him while thinking of what to say. "I wasn't sure you'd come back."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." She steps forward and meets his embrace as they kiss and lace their fingers together.

He steps back and keeps his grip on her hands. "But, my love, those words-"

"I know, I...I am not proud of what I said. I'm just so overwhelmed by the future of my career and I fear I will never have a life of my own...that doesn't mean I don't want you in it, I just don't want that company to own it."

"I understand...I think I was right to leave, I would have said much more hurtful things if I had tried-"

"I know, but sleep has helped me see, and I can tell it helped you in the same way." She smiles warmly. "Come in, have some coffee, and take that jacket off."

"I could take more off." he begins to pull down his sleeves.

"Sorry, love, but it's not the right time; I'm under a lot of stress."

"I understand." He winks, then takes his jacket off completely, brushes it off in the hall, and looks at the snow on the floor. "Their problem." He laughs.

She weakly laughs, then beckons him in, and walks gracefully towards the couch. "Did you walk here in that blizzard?"

"You know me so well." He chuckles and sits in the chair across from her, then stretches his legs out on the coffee table.

"Well, you don't have a car." She watches the snow from his boots collect on the table.

"Sorry about that, uh, where is the coffee?"

"Oh, it's still on the machine; can you grab mine, too?"

"Of course." He grunts and stands up again. "So much walking, sometimes I wish I could rely on machines like you, but I don't trust them."

"And you can't afford them."

He laughs. "Don't want to be able to afford them." He looks at her. "You want the diabetes coffee like usual?"

"You know me so well."

He takes off his boots, then mixes and brings the drinks to the table.

"You look like a server."

He looks down at himself, then takes a sip of coffee. "Who would hire me?"

She laughs and takes her coffee. "Some contemporary English speakeasy with a low-key atmosphere."

"You say low-key like it is full of druggies."

She laughs harder.

"Is this what you think of me? I'm offended."

"I never said there were drug addicts, but if there were, I wouldn't be surprised, that's all. Nothing to do with you, just most places might want someone who will use a stove; but that independent spirit...that's what gets me about you."

"It gets you what?"

"It gets me wet?"

"You know that's not what I said."

She grins.