GABRIELLA
Jake and I left the coffee shop to stretch our legs and go for a walk. There was a park up a block and across the street, and we wandered along the path that wove between dozens upon dozens, if not hundreds, of London Plane trees. Their leafy canopies cast dancing shadows on the path at our feet. Birds pecked at the grass on either side while ducks quacked in the pond down a gentle hill to our right. Children played at the water’s edge, minded by parents who warned them over and over not to get too close.
Jake walked with his hands in his pockets. “So, you hate the new gig, huh?”
“It’s mind-numbing. My boss is okay, but the rest of them are soul-sucking leeches who only care about themselves. I know sales can be a dog-eat-dog world, but at some point, you’d think they’d realize that they’d be more successful if they were nicer to each other.”
“What product do they sell?”
I grunted in disgust. “Unethical cleaning supplies.”
He arched an eyebrow. “No wonder you hate it. It’s against your core values. You should get out of there.”
“I’m trying, but it seems like everyone and their mothers are applying for assistant jobs. I had three interviews last week and haven’t heard a peep from anyone. I’m starting to think that having your business on my resume is intimidating potential employers.”
He laughed. “Then they’re weak minded. They should see you as an asset, not a dark mark.”
“I think they see me as out of their league and unaffordable.”
“So, you settled for a low tier sales company?”
I shot him a look. “I don’t know if we’re back to a place where you can criticize me, Jake.”
He held up both hands. “My bad. You’re right.” We walked about a hundred paces in quiet before he spoke up again. “What are you going to do?”
I sighed wearily. “I don’t know. The job is mindless, but I’m exhausted all the time. And my parents won’t get off my back. When they found out I’d quit my job, they were both in such a panic, like they thought I hadn’t put any money aside for a rainy day. They still treat me like I’m sixteen years old, and it’s driving me crazy.”
He made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat. “I’m sorry, that sounds draining.”
“It is,” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “I keep trying to tell them that I’m fine on my own, and this is how I want to live my life, but then they go and offer me the guest house again. Having to borrow my dad’s car this month didn’t help my case, I suppose.”
Jake grimaced. “The Lambo is still parked in my garage.”
I looked up at him. “Really? I figured you’d have brought it back by now. It doesn’t strike me as something you’d ever want to drive around.”
“Maybe I wasn’t willing to let it go yet.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I guess I was leaving the light on for you.”
My heart did a little hop-step in my chest. Meanwhile, my brain shot up a bright red flag that bounced back and forth between my ears. Don’t fall for the smooth words again, Gabi. You did that once and look how it turned out.
We walked past the end of the pond and up over a hill. Cyclists passed us and chimed their bells so we could tuck ourselves toward the right side of the path. At the top of the hill, we had a good vantage point of the rest of the park below. The path forked in two different directions. One swept back and around to the far side of the pond, where there was a small dock with a gazebo. People milled about in the shade and lounged on benches under the gazebo. The other path wandered off through some trees, and I spotted a food truck of some kind parked down that way.
I followed the food, and Jake followed me.
“What do you think it would take for your parents to back off and trust that you have everything under control?” Jake asked.
I chewed on his question for a moment. “I don’t know, honestly. I’ve been asking myself the same thing for years now. I’ve even asked my brother, and he’s sat down with them before to try to understand why they think I’m so—I don’t know—incapable of running my own life. He said he can never get a straight answer out of them. The best my mom can come up with is that I’m their baby. Beck thinks it’s just my curse of being the youngest child. He says it will go away eventually, probably once I become a mother myself. He thinks…” I trailed off.
“Yes?”
I licked my lips. “It’s dumb.”
“I’m sure it’s not.”
Sighing, I said, “Beck thinks my parents just worry about me because I’m alone all the time. He says that once I find a partner, the shift will happen, and they will trust that I’m okay because I have someone.”