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Authors: Sarah Pekkanen
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sense.
“You deserved this,” Mason said. “You still had my vote.”
He was trying to make me feel better. He was throwing me a few extra fries.
“You still have a good future with us,” Mason said. “A great future. A few years down the line, who knows?”
I tried to croak out a word, and couldn’t. My throat had closed up.
“I need to get back up there,” Mason said. “Will you be okay? Can I get you anything?”
I shook my head. I was fine; I was just so cold.
“We’ll talk more later,” Mason said. “Let’s go out for lunch tomorrow. We’ll figure something out.”
He stepped away, and that’s when I saw it: The faces of my colleagues were turning toward me, just a few at first, then more and more joining in, like fans at a stadium doing the wave. Cheryl had finished talking, and Mason was still walking toward the stage. His motion had attracted everyone’s attention. I was as exposed as if I’d been standing there stark naked. Everyone was staring at me, curiosity and pity on their faces. Everyone knew I’d failed, that I wasn’t good enough.
I looked around wildly and saw a red exit sign. I’m not evensure how I got there, but I must’ve run, because suddenly I was bursting through the door, out onto the sidewalk, where a panhandler sat on an overturned milk crate rattling coins in a plastic cup, and people lined up in the doorway of a restaurant, and a car skidded through an intersection just as the light turned red. Where life went on as usual, even though mine had just exploded into a million jagged shards.
Four
MY NEW SHOES RUBBED raw patches into my heels and the cold night air cut through the thin material of my dress, but I kept walking. I’d left my purse and coat at the bar—I vaguely remembered my purse slipping off my shoulder and scattering its contents across the floor as I ran toward the exit—but that didn’t matter. How could things like my wallet and cell phone and my business cards, the ones I’d carried in a silver monogrammed case my parents had given me for Christmas, matter anymore? The only thing that mattered, the single most important thing in the world, was that I focus every ounce of my concentration on walking. If my body kept moving, maybe my mind wouldn’t.
I no longer felt nauseated or scared or devastated, but I knew those emotions were lurking close by, like animals in a cage, coiling their strength until the lock turned and they could unleash themselves. I had to keep walking; I had to keep the animals at bay. Besides, I had nowhere to go. I couldn’t bear to go back to the bar and face everyone. I couldn’t go home without my keys. I couldn’t go to a hotel without a credit card. The only thing left for me to do was to keep turning aimlessly down streets and upboulevards, crisscrossing the city as evening commuters with their overcoats and briefcases were replaced by couples heading out on dates and rowdy groups of people going to bars and tourists on their way to the theater.
“Hey, baby!”
I’d been walking for what felt like hours when a thin, blond guy lurched toward me, holding up his hand like it was a stop sign.
I stared at him as if he was speaking Sanskrit. He was wearing a suit, but its collar was badly frayed and his right dress shoe was missing its laces.
“Want to get a drink?” he asked. His yellow teeth seemed like they belonged to a different man, a much older one. When he smiled, I noticed his incisors were pointed like tiny little fangs.
“Or do you want something else?” He sneered, his expression flipping from friendliness to anger like a coin. I looked around. I didn’t know this neighborhood. A thin dog sniffed at a Dumpster, and the storefronts were shielded by black accordion gates that were covered with graffiti. I didn’t feel fear or anger; I didn’t feel anything except the bone-numbing cold. I didn’t know if I ever would again.
I stepped around the drunk like he was no more substantial
“You deserved this,” Mason said. “You still had my vote.”
He was trying to make me feel better. He was throwing me a few extra fries.
“You still have a good future with us,” Mason said. “A great future. A few years down the line, who knows?”
I tried to croak out a word, and couldn’t. My throat had closed up.
“I need to get back up there,” Mason said. “Will you be okay? Can I get you anything?”
I shook my head. I was fine; I was just so cold.
“We’ll talk more later,” Mason said. “Let’s go out for lunch tomorrow. We’ll figure something out.”
He stepped away, and that’s when I saw it: The faces of my colleagues were turning toward me, just a few at first, then more and more joining in, like fans at a stadium doing the wave. Cheryl had finished talking, and Mason was still walking toward the stage. His motion had attracted everyone’s attention. I was as exposed as if I’d been standing there stark naked. Everyone was staring at me, curiosity and pity on their faces. Everyone knew I’d failed, that I wasn’t good enough.
I looked around wildly and saw a red exit sign. I’m not evensure how I got there, but I must’ve run, because suddenly I was bursting through the door, out onto the sidewalk, where a panhandler sat on an overturned milk crate rattling coins in a plastic cup, and people lined up in the doorway of a restaurant, and a car skidded through an intersection just as the light turned red. Where life went on as usual, even though mine had just exploded into a million jagged shards.
Four
MY NEW SHOES RUBBED raw patches into my heels and the cold night air cut through the thin material of my dress, but I kept walking. I’d left my purse and coat at the bar—I vaguely remembered my purse slipping off my shoulder and scattering its contents across the floor as I ran toward the exit—but that didn’t matter. How could things like my wallet and cell phone and my business cards, the ones I’d carried in a silver monogrammed case my parents had given me for Christmas, matter anymore? The only thing that mattered, the single most important thing in the world, was that I focus every ounce of my concentration on walking. If my body kept moving, maybe my mind wouldn’t.
I no longer felt nauseated or scared or devastated, but I knew those emotions were lurking close by, like animals in a cage, coiling their strength until the lock turned and they could unleash themselves. I had to keep walking; I had to keep the animals at bay. Besides, I had nowhere to go. I couldn’t bear to go back to the bar and face everyone. I couldn’t go home without my keys. I couldn’t go to a hotel without a credit card. The only thing left for me to do was to keep turning aimlessly down streets and upboulevards, crisscrossing the city as evening commuters with their overcoats and briefcases were replaced by couples heading out on dates and rowdy groups of people going to bars and tourists on their way to the theater.
“Hey, baby!”
I’d been walking for what felt like hours when a thin, blond guy lurched toward me, holding up his hand like it was a stop sign.
I stared at him as if he was speaking Sanskrit. He was wearing a suit, but its collar was badly frayed and his right dress shoe was missing its laces.
“Want to get a drink?” he asked. His yellow teeth seemed like they belonged to a different man, a much older one. When he smiled, I noticed his incisors were pointed like tiny little fangs.
“Or do you want something else?” He sneered, his expression flipping from friendliness to anger like a coin. I looked around. I didn’t know this neighborhood. A thin dog sniffed at a Dumpster, and the storefronts were shielded by black accordion gates that were covered with graffiti. I didn’t feel fear or anger; I didn’t feel anything except the bone-numbing cold. I didn’t know if I ever would again.
I stepped around the drunk like he was no more substantial
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