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I get closer to the window from the side, hoping to remain hidden, eager to know the reason for his happiness. I spot Claire with her red hair and her happy personality, throwing a snowball at him. He shakes his head. They’re on the special pathway made for him in wintertime so he can seek fresh air whenever he wants.
He'ssmiling.I can see his dimples from here, and it burns me like a killing curse aimed at my chest.
I don’t want to feel envious of Claire. She’s just doing her job, but I can’t remember the last time I saw so much color in his face.
Pink cheeks. White smile. Perfect dimples.
After checking the time on my phone, I write on our wall board that I’ll be back before the charity event we’re attending tonight.
I grab my stuff and head out with our modified van. Ever since the accident, I hate being late, so I arrive early instead of rushing.
I live in Clarendon Hills, Illinois, a smallish town about thirty minutes away from downtown Chicago.
The drive into Chicago is the perfect mental cleanse to stop me from dwelling on my anxiety and focus my energy on my interview.
I catch a glimpse of my surroundings, a few inches of snow covering the ground. I love this town—the familiarity, the trust between neighbors, the endless outdoor activities. But I always wanted to work in the city. Despite my love of nature, I love exploring cities.
It’s not until I drive through the dirty, wet streets downtown that traffic really picks up. I find parking near the building where I have my interview in thirty minutes.
Parallel parking this van is no easy task.
Since I’m early, I take out my overused, over-read Harry Potter book to waste time. The third in its series. Ever since I was a girl, about nine years old, I’ve been obsessed with Harry Potter. I still am today, which is why I often reread the collection.
As I make my way to the spinning doors of the building, a whiff of cold air wraps around me. Once inside, I’m asked to sign in at the front desk and wait for someone to escort me upstairs.
The young woman who ushers me onto the elevator with her is wearing black pants and a purple dinosaur T-shirt. I feel overdressed.
“Marie! Thanks for bringing her in,” a woman who appears to be in her forties says once we step out of the elevator. She stares at Marie’s outfit, giving it a look up and down. I exhale in relief, knowing it’s not me, it’s her. The older woman is dressed in a business suit as well.
“No probs,” Marie says, then leaves us.
“Hi, Gemma. I’m Katherine. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” I tell her as we shake hands. She walks ahead of me, asking if I had any troubles finding the place, and I answer while gawking at the walls that surround me.
It’s pretty. Too pretty.
Predictable and modern.
White walls, caramel borders, and green plants.
We end up sitting in a massive boardroom. She hands me a glass of water and explains that she’s currently Mr. Dreygon’s executive assistant, but she’ll be leaving her position the week after next. They’re hoping to hire someone to start next Wednesday so they can be trained before she leaves.
“Now, I don’t know if you’ve researched the company, but we often take on contracts in both private and public sectors, and we remain neutral in our reports filled with recommendations to businesses. We also establish step-by-step protocols that should be followed in accordance with all laws. Essentially, wehelp businesses and government entities develop business plans while minimizing environmental risk. Why don’t you start by telling me a bit about yourself?”
I clear my throat. “I graduated from the University of Chicago with a degree in environmental sciences and a minor in biology.” She nods as I go on to explain my work experience as a research assistant on campus.
I answer her questions thoroughly, and I’m flooded with relief when it’s my turn to ask my own, knowing the interview is reaching its end.
She keeps eyeing the tattoo on my hand—it’s a small, narrow black rose, right at the base of my middle finger—the gesture makes me nervous.
“Okay, look . . . ”
Further panic arises from her words. Is she about to dismiss me right here, right now?
“I think you’re a great candidate, Ms. Ackerman. I think with both your degree and experience you’ll be a great fit with Mr. Dreygon. I’ve interviewed other candidates—usually HR does this—but Mr. Dreygon was adamant that I find his next assistant. I like you. And due to the urgency of this soon-to-be vacancy, I’d like to offer you the job should you want it...”
I stare at her in shock and relief. I want it—badly. But flashbacks of Claire and Harvey playing in the snow makes me hesitate for a few seconds. Then I think of paying off my loan, of getting him a new car, of finally doing something for me.
