Upon further reflection, I realize I am not prepared to return.
I have taken small steps and entered the workforce, which was difficult, so I looked for jobs that did not need a degree. I submitted my resume to food fairs and cleaning positions with an agency. Analia was the one who founded Alan and Max's company. She told me to put in the application that I was an administration student so I could be their secretary.
An assistant of Max interviewed me, which was less intimidating, and she gave me a chance. The angels helped me that day; it was my time to get out of the hole that had become my life. But return to a classroom? I still have nightmares from that time. I guess it's post-traumatic stress.
One of my recurring dreams resurfaced after I had that conversation with Max yesterday: the teacher reprimanding me. — You are neither sufficient nor capable. Do not make me waste my time. — I woke up startled. Sky jumped on my bed to comfort me.
Thismorning, I put that behind me. I focus on my present and current abilitiessince the past is unchangeable, no matter how hard I try. I feel only theremnant of menace on my chest, my outfit today: «gray. », a zip-front jacketinspired by the one Olivia Pope wore in Scandal.
I take my keys, and that is when my phone rings with a message;
1 (806) 5217 89 17_ 8:05 a.m.
«How about that coffee today? »
It is an unknown number, but I am not obtuse enough not to know who it is. However, I may be wrong, and I am assuming things that are better not assuming. I do not have lines of people inviting me for coffee who do not know I do not drink.
— How did he get my number? — Sky barks at that moment, his ears attentive as if answering my stupidity.
Dah! He owns the company where you work. My heart aches now, however, different, a mixture of uncertainty and terror, but is it excitement that I feel? I cannot distinguish or differentiate between the two.
Through my head, I imagine different scenarios; I say yes; we go to the cafe near the office and order, but I do not know what I order. We sit by the window, but what if someone sees us? And they judge me for having a non-coffee with my boss, my superior.
I'm wondering what I'm doing or thinking. I want to maintain a professional relationship.; I must not let my mind mix my fantasies with reality. Men like Alan don't show any interest in someone like me.
I shouldn't answer and thus save him the need for commitment. Right? Yes, it's the best. It was nice, our little accidental interactions. That's why they happened, but I'm socially inept, and he knows it or is already realizing it. The best approach is to let this fade away and die out.
I leave the house and start my walk. I have made the best decision. When I have advanced three blocks, my phone rings. I see the screen; it is the same number. Consciously, I put it in my coat and unconsciously block myself so as not to answer. I don't know if you understand me, well I don't even understand myself.
I keep walking and put on my headphones. The lyrics begin to play. ♫ Should I give up? Or should I just keep chasing pavements? Even if it leads nowhere, or would it be a waste♫? Appropriate, right? Thank you, Adele.
Close to work, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I know who it is before I turn around.
— Eliz, how are you? That's why I couldn't get you on the phone. You were walking to work!
Yes, that's why! I am mentally kicking myself.
— Shall we go for the coffee that I owe you?
It's not a question, it's a statement. He leads me to the cafeteria. But the key word in this conversation is «owe» and I return to the same point that has fixed me since he said it the first time: why does he think he owes me something? What debt can this man owe me?
We walk along the sidewalk to the cafe. At the entrance, I stumble, of course, and scold myself. With a smile, Alan asked me gracefully if I was okay.
— Perfect — just being me, I almost say. We got to the line to order. Luckily, it's not such a fancy place, with servers, etc., because I couldn't order, and my anxiety would go up to one more level.
He said; — these last few days were busy at the office, not just for me. I saw you were hectic yesterday.
I nod and say; — The situation was tense, and tempers were running high. — Remembering Estefany.
— What happened? — He asks seriously and is intrigued. I again offered information that I did not intend to give.
— ok — he tells me cautiously, but I notice some understanding in his eyes.
We get to the checkout, and the list on the wall is long. While conversing with Alan, I failed to plan my order. They are expensive. Who pays so much for something you can do at home? Well, today, I, apparently. But now the most important thing is to understand what potions are these:
«Coffee Nutella»: coffee with Nutella and whipped cream.
«Rainbow coffee»: three syrups of your choice with almond milk and sugar.
«Whipped unicorn coffee»: Frappuccino, syrup, whipped cream, cinnamon, and chocolate
—Are these desserts or coffee? — I murmur.
The cashier, who looks like Reba McEntire, looks at me like the alien I am and is a little annoyed at holding the line. Alan is fresh as a daisy and asks for his drink, and I stay neutral, unable to think because the variety overwhelms me. I pretend to see the billboard firmly, jumping from one option to another.
Unaware of my panic, Alan asks me, — which do you want, Eliz?
With a stressed voice, I say; — it is okay. Thank you very much. I want nothing. Enjoy yours, I will accompany you.
Confused, he asks me; — don't you fancy any? There are more options than in the city; I thought you might like it.
Someone in the back coughs as if to hurry me up. The cashier rolls her eyes at me. Alan inadvertently or does not care what others think. I say; — Ordering is difficult. Nothing seems to be easy.
Alan, in a moment of realization, finally feels my burden and ignores every stubborn person around us. There's no alteration in his face or voice as he tells me — do you like light or dark coffee?
Quickly, I say; — none.
Alan, having fun with this, says; — ok, now I understand. Do you like chocolate?
— I don't know why, but I answer; — no. — I love chocolate. I live for it. However, today, my mouth said no to finish with this.
He says to me; — Do you like the tea? — I need to calm down, so I tell him yes.
He continues trying to put together my order — with sugar or sweetener.
— I don't care about that. — I respond better to him because he's talking to me in a way that I can process them; rapid-fire questions like with Analia, I like it. With his questions, he centers me.
— let me guess, the simpler, the better? — he speaks to me subtly.
— Exactly, — I reply with a relieved smile.
He mentions; — if that's okay with you, I'm ordering a four-red fruit tea.
To which I reply — yes, please.
With self-confidence and without caring about the poor attitude of the cashier, he asks for our orders. I am opening the zipper of my bag, and with his hand on mine, sending sparks across my skin as always, he tells me a simple: — no, remember that I invited you.
We go to the bar to wait, and he asks me, — how are the relations with the other colleagues in the office?
I open my mouth and close it because I don't know how to answer and don't have any. I choose my words carefully and say it like a robot — coworkers are super professional and focused on getting the job done.
He puts his hand on his chin and tells me; — all of them?
There's no way he knows about Estefany's tantrum.
I answer with a simple — yes — I look at the tea they just delivered and am amazed at how good it smells. Thank God it won't be difficult to drink it. It's always hard to try new things, especially for food and drinks.
We are at some tables without chairs near the window. My brain short-circuits because that's how I imagined it. I try to take a small sip of the tea and see if it is safe to drink. Hot drinks and food are not my thing. What for someone is normal? I feel like it burns.
Alan stares at me, and I immediately clear my throat so he doesn't keep watching me. Right away, he tells me that Bandido is in trouble again. This time, it was a coat, no shoes.
I tell him, smiling; — your dog has anxiety—. I know about that very well.
To what he truly considers and sincerely says — how do I remedy it?
I'm about to give him some tips, but first, I dare to take a bigger sip of the tea. Damned! I gently close my eyes and brush my fingertips against my lips. Previously, I skimmed the surface; the sensation was like fire on my tongue. What I call will remain; —«cat's tongue.»
Allan says immediately; —. What? — I spoke aloud.
— oh my God! — I apologize, and he asks, passing me a napkin; — are you OK?
I answer; — yes, it is just hot, and I burn myself.
He says, all attentive; — do you want water or something cold? — I say no with my head. Because it better opens a hole exactly here, and just like in a cartoon, it swallows me.
However, I am not that lucky. So the next thing Alan asks me is — what is «a cat's tongue? »
Ok, he is not letting go. I put my hand now on my forehead and then my eyes. He playfully tells me — oh no, explain this to me — and with his hand, he removes mine from my eyes. When I open them, I see him amused by my reaction!
I need to clarify the sentence; — The texture that remains on the tongue after burning it. — I tell this, looking at the table.
He laughs and tells me; — I understand now. — Now more relaxed, I tell him to walk Bandido more and see if he stops biting things so much, and when he is not at home, turn on the TV so that he feels accompanied.
He said; — I had not thought of that and been a bad canine parent. I could have investigated.
With compassion in my voice, I say, — do not worry; we do the best with what we have. — To which Alan smiles and raises his mug to clink my« inferno tea» in a toast.
Before we leave, he tells me: — Eliz, first, do not be afraid to say what you don't like, and second, no one has the right to treat you poorly in a workplace. Especially without reason, even if it is a superior. Respect is essential to be a good leader. If that person does not have these qualities, they should not be in a position of authority. Above all, take away the power to affect you.
His words leave me feeling cold. Alan knows about Estefany. However, his words resonate with me beyond work.
—Remove the power to affect me. — I say it aloud, looking at the table, trying to assimilate it.
He takes my chin in his hands, lifting my eyes to his. I tell you, I can get used to this electric shock.
— It is easy to say but not to do it, Alan. People like me always get run over, even if we do not deserve it.
—Eliz, speak up and defend yourself. Believe in yourself, demand respect, and be confident in what you do.
My eyes water in reaction to his words. I want to say so many things, and see them in my mind, but my mouth does not emit them. I only give him a rushed and incomplete version.
—Alan, everything is easy for you because you are strong, and no one taught me how to be strong. The environment I grew up in did not provide me with a positive role model.
He furrows his brow, and with his hand supporting his chin, he speaks to me.
— I can't fully comprehend your experiences or find the perfect words. But I want you to know that each day offers an opportunity for change, and I hope your past doesn't hinder your present.
I can only convey this with a slight smile on my face. — Well, Alan, that sounds wonderful.
I wish I could live with just a fraction of his sense of security.
His sight meets mine, and we stare into each other's eyes, ignoring our surroundings. By some miracle, he does not look away. I allow him and the moment to absorb me, considering another universe rich in possibilities.