–Me: Okay. That should be fine.
Sasha’s working straight through the weekend, and it’s likely she won’t be coming home. Just because things eased up a little last week doesn’t mean anything. An associate is out of office after she lost her mother in a car crash Tuesday night, and Sasha needs to do two people’s work for a while. I haven’t seen her since our lunch, but I notice a small carry-on underneath her desk at work, which is a sign that she’s going DEFCON 1—shower and sleep in the office. The nap rooms at GrantEm are quite nice, with a bathroom attached to each.
At two a.m., I shut down my laptop and gather my things. Emmett’s office door is open, lights still on. He’s not there, though. He walked out about ten minutes ago, but hasn’t returned.
I hesitate, feeling like I should say goodbye before leaving. Odd, since I’ve never had the same urge before.
I don’t want to text him to say bye. That’s a bit too…weird. Out of my standard routine.
It’s the week getting to me. I’ve been working late, and Webber getting fired dampened my mood, even though I’m sure he’ll be fine. Some firm will snap him up. I force myself to resume the march toward the elevator.
I should’ve known the day wouldn’t end on a high note. By the time I reach the lobby, it’s pouring, like somebody punched a hole in the heavens right above Los Angeles.
“Fuck me,” I mutter. I have to run to the garage across the street to get into my car, and I, of course, don’t have an umbrella.
Above the rain, low, angry clouds reflect the nighttime lights of the city. It doesn’t look like the downpour is going to cease anytime soon. I don’t want to stay trapped in the lobby because of rain.
It’s just water, not poison.
I inhale deeply and dash out, getting soaked through in less than ten steps. By the time I reach my car, I’m breathing hard, water dripping. I squeeze the rain from my hair, then lean against the driver’s-side door for a bit, waiting for my breathing to settle. I shouldn’t have bothered to run. I couldn’t be more drenched if I’d taken a nap in the downpour.
I climb into the car and drive carefully. Half an hour or less to my place…
Or not.
Traffic’s a mess. People in Los Angeles can’t drive for crap in the rain. On top of that, there are two accidents on the way. So the trip takes two hours.
How delightful. Soggy clothes add to my boundless joy.
By the time I’m home, it’s after four and a chill has settled all the way to my bones. I take a hot shower and fall flat on bed, trying to get at least two hours of good sleep.
I fail miserably. I’m too uncomfortable. Not sure why.
Friday doesn’t go any better. I wake up, my head full of squishy cotton balls. I’m not feverish or anything, though. At least, I don’t think so. It’s just the lack of sleep and general stress and annoyance.
By the time I’m in the office, I feel like I’ve already put in a full day’s work. Dad texts me hello. I text back with a smiling selfie, hoping he doesn’t notice that I’m exhausted.
I have two meetings. Thank God I don’t have to present, because I understand very little of what’s being said. Not because the material is too technical or complicated. My brain just can’t seem to keep up with anything, even when the topic is on something as simple as projected risks and interest rates in Japan and China.
Thankfully, Emmett’s off-site today, which means he isn’t there to ask questions to attendees. I might say something stupid and embarrass myself.
After lunch, I stare at the model for hours. Nothing makes sense on the spreadsheet. I don’t know why. It made perfect sense just last night.
Instead of sorting it out, I just want to place my head on the desk and close my eyes.
And join Webber, yay!
Just because we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean Emmett won’t fire me if I start getting lazy.
I place my elbow in front of my laptop and prop my chin in my hand. If I stare at the numbers with more focus, they’ll start making sense. Actually, I should grab coffee and a Snickers first. Oil the gears in my head that have decided to creak and get stuck today.
I stand up, and the floor tilts under my feet. The office spins for a moment. I blink, then the eerie sensation goes away. What was that? Low blood sugar?
I go to the break room and grab a coffee and Snickers. Down both fast.
They don’t resolve the matter of my suboptimal brain function. For God’s sake. My laptop died last night
, and now my damned head wants to die, too.