ANNE
I clutch the pillow to my face, holding my breath until I can't anymore. I'm not trying to kill myself, I promise. I'm just frustrated beyond my wits.
I glance at the clock that hangs above the door of my room. Only five minutes past five. I still cannot get over the habit of waking up at five in the morning. The fact that I have nowhere to go makes it worse.
Sighing, I roll out of bed and grab my bathrobe and towel. There's no point staying there when I would never be able to get back to sleep. I don't take a long shower, even if I have the time.
I wouldn't be able to afford my water bill soon, so I need to be frugal while it lasts. The same with the light, the gas, and everything in between. Perhaps I would lose my house too.
As I step out of the bathroom, I imagine myself, sitting on the sidewalk of a building, hands out for some coins so I can get something to eat. The thought is a scary one. Shivering, I try to focus on something else.
The only thing that comes to mind is the fact that I have lost my job. It's still so difficult for me to understand why. I had been the one keeping that office from folding up. And no, it's not an exaggeration.
I only came to work for Mr. Manning two years ago. He was a difficult man to work for, but I did the work because there weren't many better-paying opportunities.
With all the debt I owed for college and the MBA I sometimes regret pursuing, I had no choice. For two years, I put my heart and soul into the job. I organized his meetings. Then I reorganized them when some unplanned rendezvous messed things up.
I suppose it was lucky for me that I never drew his attention, not the way some of the other women who worked at Charlton did. I apologized when he messed up and tried my best to make sure he wasn't sued for so many of the stunts he pulled.
And what did that get me? The first time I ever took a vacation, my employment was terminated.
I still remember coming home that day from the hospital. I have been having constant headaches, and my doctor's advice was to take a break from work for a week or two. I finished up all the pending work, hired a temp to help out pending my return, and stayed home for ten days, just resting.
Two days before I was to get back to work, I went to see my doctor again. I was doing so much better, and everything was perfect once more.
Until I came home and saw the mail from the company in my inbox. I kept thinking it was a mistake. I called HR - my boss's indiscretions made sure I had a good relationship with the people there.
It wasn't a mistake, they said. There has been some restructuring. I was out of a job.
I don't have anything saved up. Every month, when I get my salary, I pay my bills, pay the rent, and buy some groceries. Then I use most of what's left to pay off the loan debts as well as meet up with other obligations.
Usually, by the end of the month, I'm living on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches because I cannot afford anything better.
I've been scouring the newspapers and online platforms for jobs. I'll probably have to go to a temp agency soon or resort to jobs like babysitting or something.
I dress up slowly - it's not like I have anywhere to go - and head over to my computer. Perhaps, one of the companies I have sent my resumé to has finally replied.
I see the mail from Celine first. Despite my terrible mood, I still find myself smiling.
Hey, love
How's the job search going? You know you don't have to do all of that stuffy company work stuff, yeah? Come work for me, I swear you'll love it. Wink.
On a serious note though, if you need some help, you know you can always talk to me.
France is lovely, but I can't wait to be back home. The pizza here is terrible, and three weeks feels like a very long time. I've attached some pictures because you should see something beautiful every day.
I love you loads and loads, Anna!
xoxo
I shake my head when I open the attachments. She is goofing off in most of them. There's one where she has strawberry ice cream on the tip of her nose and another where she is sitting in the arms of a statue.
There's a group one too, with some of her classmates. One of the guys has his arm around her waist, and she's leaning into him.
I send an email back, teasing her about her new boyfriend and how he looks cute. Our schedules haven't allowed us much call time, so emails are our way of keeping in constant contact. I really can't wait for her to be back.
My eyes catch on an email from work. I wonder what that's about. They already sent the email about severance pay, and I signed that. I click on the mail, rolling my eyes.
I speed-read through the contents of the mail. My mouth drops open in shock, and I have to go back to the beginning and read it all over again. Then I read it again. And again. It is only after I read it the fourth time that it begins to sink in.
I don't even attempt to resist the urge to jump out of my chair and scream to the heavens. I cannot believe I have my job back. And yet, the email says I do. Maybe they now understand how invaluable I've been to the company.
Of course, as I bounce up and down in celebration, my leg catches against the chair and I go down hard. Not that it bothers me much. I mean, I've got my job back! I'm not going to starve!
I'm supposed to start again in three days, which is Monday, or let them know what time would be the most convenient for me.
I'm tempted to tell them I'll get back to work in a month, just to let them suffer a bit. But I can't do that. I need the money, and more than that, I can't inflict Saul Manning on unsuspecting souls.
Once I send an email back to them accepting the position, I send one to Celine too. She's going to be so happy that I'm getting the job back. I swear she was angrier than I've ever seen her when she found out what happened.
If she hadn't been in France, I have a feeling she would have gone straight to Charlton to air her grievances. I'm searching in the refrigerator for something to eat when I hear my phone ring.
"Celine!" I exclaim before I even pick up the phone. "Celine!"
"Anna! How are you, honey?"
"Splendid! It's so nice to hear your voice. It's been months."
"Yeah, I know. Wait a moment, I'm going to switch this to video." She laughs, and it sounds so exotic. Everything about Celine is exotic, from her gray eyes to her inky black hair to her face with its high cheekbones and heart-shaped structure.
Her face blinks onto the screen of my phone, and she gives a little wave. "I just saw your mail about getting your job back. I literally screamed my head off. Like-" And then she lets out a piercing scream that has me covering my ears for survival.
I hear someone call out her name in the background. She replies with an apology that's so obviously fake, it makes me shake my head.
"So, what happened? Did you take my advice and threaten to sue? Or no, no, did you protest in front of their offices? You made a nuisance of yourself, right?"
Her eyes are wide open, expectant. I laugh, shaking my head. "I didn't do any of that."
"Really? So how did you get the job back then?" she asks, her voice colored with disbelief. When she leans in and glances around her surreptitiously, I know I'm about to hear something weird. "Wait, did you use black magic?"
"What? No." Yeah, definitely crazy.
"Well then, how did you do it? I swear I'm not going to tell anyone your secret. Was it your boss? Did you finally agree to sleep with him? You know I won't judge, I know it was for a good cause."
"I didn't do anything to get it back, Celine," I reply when I get my breath back from laughing too hard. "I just stayed at home and sulked for days and woke up this morning to see the email."
"What? That's so... ordinary."
"Not everyone is extraordinary like you, Celine," I reply, hoping she doesn't hear the wistful note in my voice. Okay, so I am a bit jealous of her. She is one of the most wonderful people I know, and there are times when I wish I could have even one percent of her awesomeness.
"Of course, not everyone is as extraordinary as I am. But you'll come in a close second," she says with a self-satisfied smirk. "So what are you going to wear on your first day back?"
"What I always wear. A suit. I'm not a model, remember? I'm a personal assistant."
"I know, I know. But there is such a thing as a power suit, you know. Just pick one in red. Or wine. You're one of those people who look absolutely gorgeous in whatever color they wear, and you should take advantage of that."
"Yes, I should. So, graduation, yeah?"
"I know, right? Eighteen months just flew by, and now I'm going to be a certified designer by one of the best schools on the planet!"
"How do you feel?" Celine is usually like a dog with a bone when she gets on a topic. But I've learned how to handle her - at least to an extent.
"Depressed and excited all at once. I'm a mess, really. I mean, I went to a party last weekend to celebrate with some of the guys in my class. Two days later, I was crying my eyes out. Transition phases always make me a little crazy."
"A little crazier."
She chuckles. "Fine, you got me there."
"Speaking of parties and guys..." I let my voice trail off and wiggle my brows. "Do you have anything to tell me?"
"Anything?" I see through her innocent look immediately.
"A certain someone sent me a picture of herself with a certain young man-"
"There were others in the picture I sent," she bursts out, and I laugh. "Okay, so you got me there. I don't really want to talk about Phil. I'm not sure I have a firm handle on what's going on between us, and I don't want to..."
Her shrug seems so sad, I stroke my phone screen as if it's her face. "Don't worry about it, then. You know I'm here if you need me though, right? Anytime."
I know what it's like to have boundaries, things you don't think you can ever share with another soul. I definitely don't want her baring her heart before she's ready.
"I know, Anne. Thanks a bunch. Okay, gotta go. You tell those guys at work that if they even conceive the idea of firing you ever again, I'm going to beat up all their asses."
"Sure thing, C. Take care. Love you!"
"Love you too! Make sure you wear something runway-worthy to work, okay?"
"Uh-huh," I say even though I have no intention of doing that. My clothes have been part of my survival mechanism for the last twelve years of my life, and are probably the only reason I stayed longer than all the secretaries Saul Manning had before me.
I'm not going to jeopardize my mental health and my job just to look runway-worthy. I'll leave that to the people whose jobs are on the runway.
I am dancing as I go back to bed. Who says good things don't happen to those who wait?
****
Hi again! Another part updated. Let me know your thoughts.