I bite my lip as I peruse the contents of my briefcase. Résumé? Check. References? Check. Pen and paper? Check. Breath mints? Check.
Do I have everything? Oh. My degree. I run to the dining room table, grab the black and gold leather folder and carefully slide it into the briefcase, wiping off the thin layer of dust it accumulated while in my closet.
This briefcase has been with me since my high school days. At one time or another, it has held all my accolades. From Model UN certificates, to my Valedictorian speech. Today, maybe it'll hold my employee contract for Global Elite Solutions!
Standing in front of my floor length mirror, I can't help but laugh. With the combination of the navy pencil skirt, striped white blouse, black ascot, and this ridiculous hairstyle I tried to copy from YouTube, I look exactly like Evelyn from The Mummy, in that scene where all the bookshelves come crashing down. Great, I look like a librarian from the late 1920's! Taking out the gold clip holding my bun up, I shake out my hair. This will have to do!
My Uber app pings just as I'm locking up my front door. Ajay is waiting downstairs in a white Toyota Corolla. Hustling down the carpeted stairs, I try to avoid slipping. The pumps I'm wearing are old and all the grip has worn off the soles.
"Good morning Miss," Ajay says as I climb into the car. "Are you Lilah?"
"Hi, yes, good morning, I'm Lilah." I lock the door. Habit I guess. Ajay starts driving downtown.
"It is a beautiful day, no?" I catch his eyes in the rear-view mirror and smile at him.
"Yeah, I'm just glad it's not raining!" We drive in silence the rest of the way to GE Solutions.
The Uber trip costs me around $30 after tip. Usually I wouldn't waste money on Ubers or cabs, but walking would have taken me way too long, and Kimmy had a nail appointment so she couldn't drive me. I used to take the subway until one day I sat in bird shit. The realization that pigeons have now learned how to navigate the New York underground transit system, has deterred me from ever using public transportation again.
Bentrell Tower hovers above me, the top fifteen floors housing every Division of GE Solutions. This is it. This is what I have spent the last four years working towards. I hesitate at the front doors, my feet don't seem to want to move forward. I roll my eyes at myself. You've got this, Lilah! A beautiful woman dressed in a powdered-blue suit and a slicked back ponytail walks past me into the building. I straighten up my posture to match the woman's confidence and march inside. You belong here!
The automatic sliding doors open up into a stark corridor, with six elevators surrounding a security desk that's positioned directly in the center of the room. Holding my head up high, I walk over to the two men intently watching the monitors on their desk.
"Greetings, I have an interview at Global Elite Solutions... Marketing Division. Which floor may I find that on?" Greetings? Oh, my God. I sound like an alien.
"17. Elevator C," the smaller of the two men answers me without looking up. At least the security here is vigilant.
The elevator is almost the size of my bedroom. How many people work in this building if they need six of them? Just as the elevator doors are closing, a man rushes towards me.
"Hold it!" he yells. I press the 'door open' button repeatedly but it's too late. "Fuc-". The doors close. I really hope he doesn't work in Marketing. I stare at the ascending numbers on the lit up display. 14..15..16..17.
The entrance to the Marketing Division reminds me of a day spa I used to visit with my mom. The pristine white walls melt flawlessly into the porous speckled granite floors, little flecks of silver reflect the sun rays that beam in from the large windows. Charcoal leather couches line the waiting area with fiddle leaf trees acting as bookends. It's just how I pictured it.
A young woman, probably around my age, puts up her index finger as I approach the reception desk. Confused, I stand in front of the desk awkwardly. She presses a device in her ear, meets my eyes and smiles. Ah, Bluetooth, technology's trickster.
"Hello, welcome to Global Elite Solutions, Marketing Division. How may I help?" she inquires in a robotic tone.
"Hi, I have an interview with Marice Holland at 10 am." I check my watch to make sure I'm not late.
"Oh, yes, Miss Sterling. Please follow me." The receptionist stands up and walks around the desk.
I follow her quick pace as she maneuvers the hallways, trying to remember every turn. This place is like a maze. Stopping in front of office number 1751, the receptionist knocks on the door and then leaves.
"Ah shoot, come in, come in," a voice shouts from inside.
Entering the room, there's an older woman with curly white and gray hair standing at her desk, wiping her blouse off with a napkin.
"Hello, I'm Delilah Sterling."
Marice waves me over to her desk, still wiping down her shirt. "Sorry, dear. The knock startled me and I spilled dang coffee all over myself. Please, sit down, sit down."
"At least you're wearing a dark colored shirt," I blurt out.
"Glass half full kind of gal, aren't ya?" Marice laughs. "It's nice to meet you Delilah, my name's Marice Holland and I take care of all the hirings and firings around here." There's a slight twang to her voice. Maybe she grew up in the South.
"Ideally, we won't ever have to discuss the latter," I mumble nervously.
Marice laughs again.
The interview lasts 20 minutes. We go over my education, my experience at the Student Union, the various glowing recommendation letters from my professors, as well as my short-lived experience as a Sales Associate. I removed my tenure at Hot Shot Events from my résumé, I didn't want Marice to Google the company and get the wrong idea. Donna's motto is plastered on the careers page of the website: Smile. Flirt. Laugh. Repeat.
"Ok darling, I think I've heard enough, I'd love to sit here all day and listen to all the reasons why I should hire you, but I just don't have the time." Oh my god, I blew it.
Apparently sensing my panic, Marice reaches into her desk drawer and hands me a stack of documents. "So why don't I just hire you?"
Contract in hand, I run through the glass doors of the building and start spinning around on the sidewalk. The occasional odd look from passersby catches my eye, but I don't care. As soon as I sign these contracts, I'll officially be a Junior Marketing Assistant at GE freaking Solutions!
I read the contract as I make my way to the flower kiosk just down the street. The probation section jumps out at me. "Your employment at Global Elite Solutions may be terminated without cause or notice during the six-month probationary period."
I know probationary periods are a standard practice, but six whole months of walking on eggshells and fearing unemployment seems like a lot. Not that I'm planning to underwhelm my boss, Camille Harris, with my performance, but I've been out of school for a long time. Oh my God. Do I even remember what's in a marketing funnel? Awareness...engagement...purchase... I think I need to review my notes from college.
But even if I don't disappoint them with my skills, it says they can terminate you "without cause". What does that even mean? What if I say "Good Morning" to Ms. Harris on my first day and she fires me because she doesn't like the sound of my voice? What if she hates my penmanship? My style? My jokes? Oh God.
Hyperventilating, I pick up a bouquet of flowers and hand the attendant a ten-dollar bill.
"Great choice! That arrangement will look fantastic in your home!" The attendant hands me my change as I smile.
"Thanks, they're actually for my dad."
***
The gates to Meadow Creek Cemetery are rusty, with mildew growing in every crevice. I turn left down a path that leads out into the open field. The worn-out cobblestone blocks scattered along the grass make it difficult to walk without wobbling. By the tenth stone, I remove my shoes and cut across the grass. For the amount of money this place makes I would think they could afford the upkeep.
The surrounding willow trees sway as I walk through the overgrown grass. I pass cross after cross, dash after dash. How can you squeeze a person's whole existence into a three-inch horizontal line? I'm sure Susan Smith was more than just a loving mother, and Arnold Lane more than just a beloved son.
I didn't think about these things until my mom and I had to fill out the paperwork. Writing beloved husband or loving father seemed like such a cop out. That's what everyone wrote, but he wasn't just anyone, he was dad. He was funny, silly, outrageous dad. How could we condense fifty-five years into five words? We knew Dad wouldn't want something ordinary or common. He would want something that made us smile when we visited. It took a while but we eventually figured it out one night when we were eating chicken wings for dinner.
Kneeling down, I stare at the cement block.
Reginald Sterling
June 2, 1964
-
May 20, 2019
Rejoice! There are no calories in Heaven!
Our pastor wasn't too sold on the idea; no where in the Bible did it stipulate that clause. But it seemed right. I could just picture dad, sitting on a cloud, devouring an entire bucket of chicken, laughing as his waistline shrinks. I place the flowers in front of dad.
"Hi Daddy," I say as I stroke his headstone. "I got a job today, at GE Solutions. Isn't that crazy? Do you remember how obsessed I was with that place? I still have those fake business cards you made for me, Marketing Director: Delilah Sterling. I think that was during your 'manifest your reality' phase. I hope you're proud. I am. I really wish you were here to celebrate with me, Dad. You'd probably take me to Ricky's, they miss you there." Storm clouds start forming above me. The network said no rain, liars.
"Daddy, I'm scared. What if they don't like me? What if I don't last six months? What if I forget everything I learned? What if I have no money to pay for mom? She's doing pretty much the same, by the way. Neither here nor there. You're probably upset that I don't see her as often as I see you...right? I know you are. I know. I'm sorry dad. I just can't, you know why.
Thick drops of rain start crashing down. No jacket. Again. My face is wet, a mix of rain and tears.
"It's raining now daddy, I've got to go. I love you. I'll see you next week. Wish me luck!"
I kiss his headstone then lift myself up. The ground is now soft and wet, my nylons soaked completely through. I hold my briefcase over my head like an umbrella and sprint back through the muddy field to the main road.
The large oak tree by the gate gives me refuge as I take off my nylons and throw them in a nearby garbage bin. I pull out my phone and text Kimmy.
I'm at Meadow Creek. Can you pick me up?
She texts back right away.
OMW! 30 mins!
Thunder crashes as I slide into Kimmy's car. My clothes are soaked through to my bra, which is now visible under my white blouse. Kimmy reaches behind her seat and throws a towel on my lap.
"You look like a hot mess." Kimmy flips the mirror compartment down then starts the engine.
"Oh my God!" There's dark streaks of mascara covering a third of my face. I carefully rub the towel back and forth under my eye.
"So? Mine or yours?"
"Yours."
***
I step out of Kimmy's shower and wrap a towel around my hair. There's a hot pink sweat suit laid out on the counter. The pants only reach past mid-calf, and the arms are a little short. Pulling on the tag, I read Hello Kitty, ages 12-14. I suppose being 5'1" has its advantages.
Two voices from the living room grow louder as I approach. Is someone else here? I pause in the hallway.
"Kimmy? Are you alone?"
"Yeah! Just talking to Jack on FaceTime," she shouts back. "Say hi!"
"Hi Jack!" I say loudly. "How's it going? Thanks for setting up that interview by the way!"
"Oh, no worries," Jack replies, his voice cutting in and out. "Thank you for not having first aid training! I wouldn't have met Kimmy otherwise." Jack laughs. They really should have failed me in that course.
"Ok babe, I gotta go grill Lilah. Call me later!" Kimmy kisses her phone screen.
"I will. Bye!"
Kimmy hangs up the phone as I enter the kitchen and hugs a throw pillow.
"So, how's Jack?" I ask in a singsong voice as I open the fridge and pull out two diet cokes. The only things in Kimmy's fridge are diet cokes, take out containers and tequila.
"Oh, you know," Kimmy hugs the pillow harder and then collapses backwards. "Dreamy."
Kimmy grabs the coke out my hand as I sit down beside her.
"Ok, so I didn't want to pry, but since you brought it up, how'd the interview go?" Kimmy? Prying? Never.
"Really good, they offered me the job!"
"Oh my God, that's fantastic! When do you start?"
"I haven't signed the contracts yet," I confess as I glance over to my briefcase. "But I would start next Monday."
"Ooo! Let's sign them now! I'll make margs to celebrate!" Kimmy springs off the couch and runs to the kitchen. "Regular or strawberry?" She adds as she rummages through her cupboards.
"Kimmy, stop..." My voice is quiet.
Kimmy puts down the margarita mix in her hands, and leans over the kitchen island. "Why?! It's margarita time!" she whines.
"I'm just-" I take a breath. "I'm just scared."
"Scared of what?" Kimmy tilts her head.
"Of this job. What if it doesn't work out? What if I'm not good enough?"
"Lilah," Kimmy says sharply. "Remember the movie A Cinderella Story? With Hilary Duff?"
"Yes..."
"Remember when the wallpaper tears off, and she finally sees her dad's quote?" Oh my God. "Don't let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game!" I start laughing.
"That's Babe Ruth!"
"Ok, sorry I don't remember all the characters," Kimmy starts to pour the mix into the blender. "That's not the point! The point is that you just got offered your dream job, so take it!" Kimmy grabs the tequila from the fridge.
She's right. This is probably my only chance to work at GE Solutions, I'd be stupid to pass it up. If my dad was here he'd smack me across the shoulder for even hesitating. I can't stay stagnant forever. The salary they're offering would allow me to transfer my mom to a better care center. I could possibly even pay off all her debt. I could do a lot of things that seem like a distant dream right now.
I look up at Kimmy.
"Alright, give me a pen.