Anyway, John’s new job—he was a math teacher, too—didn’t pay much, so I knew his place was small, but I could tell he savored his space.
“Ha!” I laughed. “I wish I had juicy secrets.” Oh, wait. I actually sort of did. It was something I wasn’t used to.
“So do I,” he said. “That’s why I’ve reverted to making up flagrant, inflammatory lies about you—oh, by the way, if Mom asks you about that itch, just tell her you saw the doctor. All clear.”
“John, you didn’t.”
“And that the police dropped the shoplifting charges. Everyone knows you wouldn’t steal lipstick on purpose.”
Oh God. “You’re an ass. They’re probably on the plane to Chicago right now, getting ready to do an intervention.”
“That was the point; getting them in another state.”
“I hate you.” I laughed.
“Be nice, or I’ll tell them you got another DUI.”
“Another one?” I didn’t even drink. I mean, the occasional glass of wine, yes. But that was it. “I’m going to text Mom and tell her you’ve been crying every night because she’s not there to tuck you in.”
“Don’t you dare, Lily,” he warned.
Oh. I dare. “So what do you want?” I asked, but I already knew.
“The job? Did you get it? Mom’s been texting me every ten minutes, asking if I’ve heard anything.”
I had forbidden my overly protective and nosy parents from prying anymore. No more nagging texts, phone calls, or emails. If I had something to share, I would share it when I was damned good and ready. And if you think I’m being mean, let me set the scene. My first week away at college, my mother and father insisted I video chat with them once in the morning and once in the evening to confirm that I was still alive and adjusting to campus life. After a few weeks of that, I began to feel a little stupid. I was in college, and my parents were making me check in with them twice a day. It kind of screamed “loser!” After a few weeks of arguing with them about it, I just stopped doing the chats.
Mistake.
Then they came in person. It took months before I finally weened them off their worried-parental crutches, but I still had to email or call at least once a week or I’d find one of my parents on my dorm-room doorstep.
And I’ll be honest, part of me really felt bad for them. They literally worried themselves sick about me and my brother, which was probably why we never felt unloved. If anything, it was the opposite: “Could you please not love me quite so much? I’m twenty-five now. And I live in another state for a reason.”
Those were the words I’d barked so rudely to my mother during her last “surprise” visit. It was the first and only time I’d ever yelled at her. But during my one year in Chicago, I’d seen my parents five times, excluding my trip home for Christmas. They were out of their frigging minds and definitely couldn’t afford it on my dad’s salary.
“So?” John asked. “Did you get the job or not? And if you say ‘not,’ please tell me it’s because the guy demanded sex and got fresh with you. That would guarantee Mom and Dad getting on the red-eye to console you.”
I felt my blood pressure do a little dip. His comment hit too close to home.
I sat down on my bed, thinking about how to respond in a way that would prevent any parental concern.
“I start tomorrow, but I’m not sure it’s going to work out with my new boss,” I said. In my heart, that was the truth.
“Well…congratulations! But why aren’t you sure?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it.” I wasn’t in the mood to spin a big fat lie, and the truth wasn’t an option.
“Lily, you’ll have to do better than that or get ready for the avalanche of text messages and phone calls from Mom. What happened?”
Okay, so this was the part about my family that I loved, but also drove me crazy. They were protective to the nth degree. They wouldn’t stand for anyone treating me badly for any reason. My brother had been known to show up a few times unannounced, along with my father, to my high school after learning a guy had said something mean to me. My mother had the principal on speed dial. For as long as I could remember, they acted like a vicious pack of wolves when it came to protecting me, and I couldn’t exactly claim to be much better. I’d kicked the crap out of a girl who’d once decided to use my brother as her personal trash can for her unwanted lunch tray. Then there were my friends—the Lisa “fruit cup” incident was only one of many.
Regardless, we were grown now and didn’t need protecting. We could stick up for ourselves just fine.
“I can’t deal with this right now, John. I gotta go.”
“Lil, tell me what the asshole did.”
Jesus. “He didn’t do anything. I just need to decide if C.C. is really what I want. Mr. Cole is very…tough to work for,” I said.
“Liar. You’ve been talking about this job for months. I think you’re afraid you can’t cut it. But you will, Lily. You’re our little flower who fears nothing.”
“Thank you, John. But I really have a lot to do.” Mainly some serious thinking.
There was a notable pause. “Good luck, Lily. I’m proud of you no matter what.”
John could be such a shithead, but he was also a good big brother.
“Thanks. I’ll call you next week and tell you what happens.”
“Okay. But don’t forget, or I’ll tell Mom you’re in jail.”
I laughed and ended the call. I knew my family meant well and just wanted to know what was going on with my life, but I wished they weren’t so neurotic about it.
Staring at my phone, feeling a little pang of guilt, I picked the damned thing up again.
Me: Hi, Mom. Interview went well. But not sure the job is what I really want. Will keep you posted. BTW, I spoke to John. Sounds like he’s not eating or sleeping. Think he’s lonely. Maybe you should check up on him?
I grinned, imagining John’s face when my mother showed up tonight with groceries and her slumber-party gear. She’d probably stay on his couch for the next week.
My mom: Oh, honey. Thanks for the update. Break a leg! And yes, I will check on John. You know how we worry.
Now, for the first time ever, maybe they had a reason to. My head was about to unravel and so was my life.
~~~
The next morning, I began drinking through the C.C. firehose—laptop, account setup, work cell, company card, employee badge, HR and benefits, expense reporting, company policies, and all of the other busywork a new employee went through.
Oh, and my new office.
Seriously, it was…amazing. New, modern, bright-white office furniture and the red lips C.C. logo on the wall instantly made me feel like I’d been transported to a shiny new glamorous planet. Then there was the view. Only a floor below Mr. Cole, though much, much smaller, my office overlooked downtown Chicago. Later, I would find out he’d actually moved someone to another floor so I could have it, which made me wonder if he put me there as a reminder of his position above me. My mouth didn’t seem to acknowledge the concept of hierarchy when it came to him. Or politeness. Regardless, I had to pinch myself every ten minutes. I kept feeling like I’d somehow faked my way in and, at any moment, the security guards would show up looking to throw me out. But I hadn’t faked my way in; I’d just come in through a very, very strange hidden door.