I stared back at him. Was he really threatening me because of something he’d done wrong? I took a deep breath. I felt as if my toes were on the edge of some deep chasm, and the urge to jump was strong.
Kevin leaned closer to me.
“So why don’t you get off your pretty little ass,” he sneered, “and get me the fucking numbers.”
I froze. My face felt tight, and I clenched my teeth against the sensation. In the back of my mind, I heard the door on the side of a plane open, and the wind began to howl outside. I stood up and mentally moved to the edge. I looked at Kevin and in my head saw the vast openness of the ground far, far below.
I jumped.
“If you have promised something to the execs that you can’t deliver,” I said, my voice getting louder, “then maybe you need to inform the execs that you made a bit of a mistake. Or maybe you can go to accounting and ask them for numbers they don’t have. Better yet, walk into the board meeting and ask them for the budget.”
He took a half step back, but I just stepped forward and stared up at his Chia-head face. Others in the cubicle-farm were taking notice. There were a few people who had stopped in the hallway as well.
“And the next time you refer to my ‘pretty little ass,’” I practically screamed, “I’ll just invite you to the next meeting with HR!”
I kept my eyes on him, completely unmoving. His face had gone white, and he checked over his shoulder at a few of the people who were standing around, listening in.
Including his boss.
I smiled. My chute opened, and I began to float.
“I’m heading home now,” I stated, “because I already worked through lunch to get you all the things it is within my power and job description to get you. If you have a problem with that, we can discuss it with Mr. Thompson in the morning.”
I nodded toward Kevin’s boss as I picked up my purse and prepared to leave.
Kevin just stood there, mouth agape. As I turned down the aisle to the stairwell, I heard Mr. Thompson’s voice.
“Kevin, I’d like a word with you.”
I landed in the circle in the middle of a green, grassy field, and my smile grew wider.
The autumn wind was cold as I marched to the parking lot to find my car. I had to break down and start up the car’s heater to ward off the chill. The air smelled dusty and burned my nose the entire drive home from work. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I had said and how fabulous it felt to stand up for myself.
Just like jumping out of a plane.
I pulled into the garage, switched off the heater, and tried to remember if I had ever gotten around to having my winter jacket cleaned last spring. I was going to need it soon.
I bet it’s warm in Miami.
“Shut up,” I said to myself. I didn’t want my mood ruined, but apparently that was all it took. Memories began to flood my head, and despite the good ones, they all ended with that last afternoon in a strip mall parking lot.
I switched on the Tuesday night sci-fi movie and found that my favorite channel was playing The Fifth Element. I groaned and swi
tched to the home and garden channel instead, then decided to polish up my resume.
I updated my work experience and shot out a couple of emails to people I thought would give me good references. I hated the whole job-hunt thing, but it was a great distraction, and maybe it would help keep me from losing my mind.
“It’s probably already happened,” I mumbled to myself. I glanced up at Wonder Woman, who seemed to agree.
I got up to make myself some dinner. The only thing that sounded good was breakfast food, which I had totally refused to make for myself ever since I returned home. I pulled out the half-dozen eggs I had in the refrigerator and threw them in the trash before dumping some cottage cheese and pineapple into a bowl and calling it a meal.
“I can’t even turn the damn stove on,” I muttered.
I shook my head. I had to stop thinking like this. I had to stop letting every little thing that reminded me of Aiden Hunter get to me. It was like when my dad had first died, and I couldn’t even bring myself to look at his picture for the longest time. Every time I did, it brought tears to my eyes.
Walking across the room, I grabbed the picture of my father off the bookshelf and held it in my hands. I ran my finger along the edge of the frame and smiled sadly.
“I miss you, Dad,” I said. “I have the feeling you’d be really disappointed in me right now, but I still wish I could talk to you about it.”