Read Online My Life as a Doormat (in Three Acts) by Rene Gutteridge - Free Book Online Page A

her pencil and gave my name a charismatic check mark. “Glad to have you with us. We’re about to begin, so if you want to join us—”
    â€œWhat about Edward? Edward Crowse?”
    She looked at her clipboard again. “I’m sorry, I don’t have that name down.”
    â€œProbably an oversight. He was the one that signed us up, so he should be there.”
    She studied the paper. “Looks like you’re already paid in full. But I’m sorry, I don’t have another name here.”
    I looked at the crowd of people, who had now taken seats in the circle. About five chairs were empty. “He’ll be here. He’s probably just running . . . late.” The word felt heavy on my tongue. I’d never used late and Edward in the same sentence.
    Marilyn put a hand on my back. I felt myself stiffen. “Why don’t you go ahead and join us. As soon as he gets here, he’s welcome to come on in.”
    I could hardly swallow. Marilyn urged me on, like it was what she was best at, and with leaden steps I walked toward the circle of people. Marilyn paused to look at something on her clipboard, but momentum apparently kept me going. Some people were chatting. Others sat and watched me decide which chair to take. I aimed for a grouping of three that had a view of the elevator, plopping myself down on the one in the center. I put my handbag on the one to my right. My neck felt hot, and I placed a hand around my throat to try to hide whatever red color was making its appearance.
    A couple of seats to my left sat the guy who’d come off the elevator after I did. He was observing me with careful eyes. “Don’t strangle yourself yet,” he said softly. “You never know, you might like it.”
    â€œI’m not strangling myself,” I said with a frown. But I dropped my hand into my lap.
    â€œI was joking.” His brown eyes smiled at me, though his lips held an even line. He stretched a hand across the space between us. “Cinco.”
    I reached out to shake it. “Cinco. Odd name.”
    â€œI’m the fifth in a long line of people who think they’re important enough to name someone after them.”
    â€œI see. Well, nice to meet you.”
    â€œThis is the point where you would normally introduce yourself.”
    I eyed him. “Sorry. I’m not feeling very friendly. This isn’t what I was expecting,” I said, glancing at the circle of people around me.
    â€œWhat were you expecting?”
    Luckily I didn’t have a chance to explain. Marilyn, a throwback to the eighties with her blue leggings, stiff-collared polo shirt, and inflexible bangs, sat down between me and Cinco and brought the meeting to order.
    I looked behind her toward the elevator, listening intently for any sign of movement from the old mechanical box. But the doors were quiet and tightly shut.
    â€œAs you’re aware, this class is called Conflict Resolution, and as the title indicates, we’re about learning to resolve conflict. I know most of you don’t want to be here, but that just means I’m going to have to work harder to win you over.” She grinned. A nervous fellow across from me chuckled, and that satisfied Marilyn enough to release the hold she had on her smile. My gaze wound around the room as Marilyn’s words you don’t want to be here echoed in my ears. Nobody looked like they wanted to be here. And only the nervous fellow was attempting to do anything but scowl at her.
    â€œEvery day,” she began after another award-winning smile, “we are faced with conflict. Sometimes small, sometimes big. Sometimes it’s on the job, sometimes it’s with people we love, sometimes it’s with a neighbor or even a stranger. But conflict is all around us. You’re here today to learn better ways not only to face conflict, but to resolve it. Everyone has a choice when faced with conflict. The one true