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“I know,” I nodded. “I know. I think I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”
“Maybe he’s just giving you some space to come to terms with the changes you’re making now so that you can be sure of what you really want.”
I thought of her response and nodded.
“He told me that he wanted me to be assertive about the things I wanted.”
“Was he referring to himself as well?”
“Maybe, but the thing is...” I turned to her. “I am assertive about the things that I want. Just not when it comes to him. At least not yet.”
“If not now, then when?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “But I’m going to take a bit of time to figure it out, and maybe eventually... I'll get the answers that I need.”
Just then, the doorbell rang, and I watched as she headed over to the door.
“Pizza’s here,” she said excitedly and collected the box from the delivery guy.
“Keep the change,” she said, and when he turned around, I had the most disappointed face for her.
“Keep the change?” I asked. “Really? Keep the change?”
“What?” she asked.
“It was like seven dollars.”
“This is how you're already out of money. If you’re this broke now and you’re still telling him to keep the change, then I can imagine how much you’ve lost already from not negotiating properly and telling people to keep the change.”
I rose to my feet and went over to the computer on the table.
“Let me see your records. All the payments and orders you’ve made so far for fabric purchases and samples.”
She came over to the desk then, looking sheepish as well, even as I logged into her laptop.
“Where are the records?” I asked.
“On the website,” she replied as she opened the box.
“What website?”
“The website where I made the orders. They keep them there.”
“You don’t have them organized? You don’t have an excel sheet? How did you even choose the manufacturers? Did you pick the best with the greatest quality, or did you pick the first one you saw, which was also probably the most expensive?”
“I’m not an idiot,” she said as she took her seat, and I looked up then.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that you were,” I said, and she took a bite.
“Pizza,” she tore out a piece and handed it over to me.
So... I pressed on with my question as she took the bite.
“Where are the records? The invoices? The price quotes?”
She kept chewing without any response, and I was forced then to look at her.
“Let me guess, they’re all on the website?”
