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“Pffft, get down from there. I’m just drawing up the budget.”
“Oh.” I fall back to the booth with a thump. “I thought you were doing it.”
“I’m writing up the design, the purpose, the marketing plan, the regional outreach strategy.”
“So you’re in charge!”
“No, no.” He waves me off. “You’re jumping way ahead.”
I’m getting an even clearer view of the careerman that Terence has become. It’s a side of him that’s always been hidden from me, since our professional worlds of accounting and bike delivery rarely—that is, never—cross.
I lean in closer so that the four other patrons can’t hear me. “What are you afraid of, Terence?”
“I’m not afraid. That’s just not my job.”
“Not yet, but you’re designing it.”
“I’d be overstepping.”
“You’d be taking initiative, leading them into a whole new side of the business.”
“A side of the business that could fail.” His shoulders pull forward. “You don’t get it, Alli. I’m designing it, but putting it into action is a whole other thing. I’ve never done anything like this. If I took the reins, I could totally blow it, being so inexperienced. They need someone who can take the mountain rescue world by storm. Forge new relationships, lead a team in the mountains.”
“But, Terence.” I tread gently, sensing his fragility. “That’s you. That’s you to a T for Terence. I’ve seen you out there with Ranger. You two are incredible. I’ve seen you work with other handlers. You’re a natural. You’re–”
“Likely to blow it. And I’m not ready to handle that responsibility. To think that my dream was within my reach and then I ruined it? I couldn’t handle that.”
“There’s no reason for this to fail. You’ve done the research yourself.”
“Can we drop it? Can we just celebrate that I’ve done something already that I never thought I’d do in convincing Miss Chardonnay to give this a shot?”
“Of course, Ter-Ter. But like you said, I’m your biggest fan. And I know you can do this.”
“That’s sweet. But your confidence is misplaced. You don’t know what I do. You’ve never seen me at work. Your faith is blind.”
He squeezes my hand, but there’s an implicit insult in there somewhere. I just can’t tell what it is.
“You think I don’t understand accounting?”
“I know you don’t. But that’s not the point.”
“Okay, maybe I can’t balance a checkbook to save my life–”
“You don’t even have a checkbook.”
“–but I know enough about the world to know what it takes to be successful, and you’ve got it.”
“Alli-bear, you don’t know. I’m not saying this with anything but great affection—you quit everything before you can even be successful with it.”
He just kicked all the words right out of me.
“That’s not true,” I whisper.
“It is. It’s also part of your charm, but why do you think you’re doing bike delivery instead of the social work studies you planned to do?”
“Because I have lots of other activities that take my time.”
“Like wrestling team? How long did you do that for?”
