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The hard thing about letting people into the ins and outs of your life is when you inevitably have to tell them things didn’t work out. When you have to tell them you quit, and you failed.
“It was affecting my work. The case. I don’t know. Barbara let me have it.”
“Fuck Barbara. She sucks.” That aggressive crunch of the baby carrot seems somehow apropos here.
My eyes widen at her outburst.
“You know she sucks. It’s okay to admit it. Don’t think I haven’t looked for other places to work.”
“What’s keeping you here?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. The commute is nice. I like the people I work with.” She shrugs.
What’s keeping me here?
“You know I messed up the Lorenzo case. I really fucked it up. He was counting on me, and I let him down. I prioritized myself instead of my job. Instead of helping those that need it.”
“Both things can be true. Both things can be done. It’s just a matter of balance.”
“I don’t know what that word means,” I say tersely.
“It takes practice. I know you know that one,” she counters. But her tone is kind and compassionate. Larissa herself is compassionate and warm, friendly and thoughtful. A team player I have been so lucky to have on mine.
“Thank you for helping me last week.”
“You told me thank you a million times. It’s my job. Thank you for asking for help. That’s what I’m here for.”
I smile at her response. “It meant a lot.”
“Anytime,” she beams.
Our lunch hour is over, but I don’t want to rush to get back into the office. I just want to enjoy this nice outdoor weather a little bit longer.
“So, how are you and that instructor then?” she asks.
“Not good,” I shake my head. That’s certainly an understatement. “I royally fucked up that, too.”
The only good thing. Thebestthing. And I gave it up because I thought I didn’t deserve it.
“My life feels like a bunch of falling dominoes lately,” I lament.
“Well,” she says, snacking on her last piece of cheese. “With dominoes, soon enough they’ll stop falling, and you can pick them all back up again.”
Some days, perpetually optimistic Larissa is just who I need.
Once I drive home, late at night, I fall back into the same routine. Like somehow it knew I would be back, and it didn’t let me forget.
I go up the elevator alone and walk into my apartment. I take a shower, slip into pajamas, and bring my case to the table, working quietly.
T barges into my apartment without knocking shortly after, the usual.
“What are you doing?” she demands.
“Working,” I state from behind my laptop, not looking up at her. I’m sure I know why she’s here.
“Gavin said you bailed on Logan.” There it is.
“I swear to God, the way news travels around all of you.” I huff in annoyance.
