Our conversation is interrupted when the phone rings. Lorina sashays her way to the phone, moving with so much grace even hurrying.
“Yes, Lorina. How may I help you today?”
I watch as she professionally takes the phone call, focuses yet her eyes focus in concentration as the person on the other end tells her information.
She nods, ending the call.
She looks at me, clasping her hands together. “Alri
ght, dear. Mr. Hemmington’s in. Are you ready?”
I swallow the lump in my throat, standing on my feet. “Ready as I’ll ever be, Ms. Lorina.”
She waves away my comment. “Never mind the formality, Olivia. Call me Lorina, and I shall not feel so old.”
I feel so relax with her, helping me forget that I’m about to face the boss.
She makes her way towards me, an inch shorter than I am. Taking hold of my hands, she gives it a consoling squeeze. “You’ll do great. I’m already looking forward to seeing you around, Olivia.” She beams, making my heart leap with hope.
Lorina is a grandmother I never have with the essence of a mother I lost too early in life.
“Hurry along now.” She gives me a gentle push towards the door.
Taking a deep breath, I ball my fists into a tight ball.
“It’s now or never, Olivia. You didn’t ditch your friends for nothing.” I prep talk.
Braving the unknown, I raise my fist, making contact with the heavy wooden door.
A second pass that feels like forever before a deep baritone answers. “Come in.”
I take a last look towards Lorina. She mouths, “go” left with no choice.
I reach down for the doorknob, watching it turn until the clicking sounds announce that it’s open already and that there’s no going back.
Looking up from my feet, I immediately spot him.
He is sitting behind the desk, leaning against it. He has his elbows on the table, his face on his hand, covering his identity.
My heart jumps on the throat, my breath hitching.
As if sensing me looking, he looks up our eyes meeting.
His eyes widen in recognition and I as well.
I point my finger at him, chorusing a, “You?!”
I blink, not believing my eyes.
He too mirrors my expression. He’s looking at me in disbelief, those grey blue eyes studying my face as if making sure if it’s me.
I look back at the door, thinking if I should bolt out of the door or stay on my spot.
It’s a little too late to be running out of the door now, isn’t it?
All of a sudden, he hits the oak table making me jump in surprise. “It makes sense!” he mutters as if finally solving a complicated problem. Recollection dawning on his face.
Looking back at me, he says, “You mention about an interview earlier.”