I try to stay positive, but frustration gets to me after getting fired for the zillionth time.
One Monday, after getting fired again and avoiding Mark by mumbling something about being on my period, I leave out the front for the first time in a long time, shoving open the door and exiting without looking back, my mind trying to drag me into the mire of depression.
What’s the point of reliving the same day if I can’t actually change the major outcomes, the things that made it so shitty to begin with? It’s been almost three months of this now.
Footsteps pound the pavement behind me.
“Hey, Jane. You okay?”
“Alex. Hey. Yeah. I’m all right.” I’m not but what can I do about it that I haven’t already done?
“How did the pitch go?”
I shake my head. “Not great.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
Alex is among the things and people I’ve been avoiding. When I run into him, he’s sweet and concerned and he asks about the interview and I brush him off. I don’t want to admit I’ve been fired. It’s embarrassing. Shameful. But I hate lying to him. He’s always so honest and open about everything.
During his very first meeting with the marketing team at Blue Wave, he talked about his failures, how many mistakes he’d made along the way to success. He said he learned more from failure than from success, and he didn’t want anyone on his team to be afraid to fail, because fear prevents creativity.
I wish I could be more like him. Fearless in the face of adversity, instead of just a scared failure.
I could tell him the truth. I know him well enough to know he’s not the judgmental type, but opening up to people, especially people I respect and admire, is like being skinned alive. Rejection and lack of understanding is too common an occurrence.
And yet.
“I got fired,” I blurt out. Heat fills my face. I can’t meet his eyes, instead fixating on a crack in the sidewalk. Why did I tell him?
“Oh, Jane. Hey.” He dips his head to meet my eyes. “That really sucks.”
I wave him off, even though my eyes are stinging. This is humiliating enough without crying in front of Alex. I’m a lot of things, but a crier isn’t usually one of them.
Maybe because I usually don’t talk to other people about my problems.
I shove the thought away. Now is not the time for introspection. “It’s fine.”
But it’s not fine. I blink back the tears. I hate this day. Over and over this damn day.
“Hey listen, I’m in a band. We have a gig tonight. I mean, it’s not a big thing, we’re the opening act and it’s at the Saloon, but you should come. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Pity invite, huh?” I laugh, the sound brittle.
“No.” He shakes his head. “Not at all. You should come. Please?”
Alex’s expression is careful, his hands shoved into his jeans.
This is new.
This is different.
On the Mondays I don’t avoid Alex, he never asks me to this show. I didn’t even know he was in a band.
A normal person would jump at the chance. But of course, my first thought isn’t about spending time with Alex. My first thought is about social anxiety. Go, by myself, to a bar I’ve never been to, to potentially hang out with Alex and his bandmates? Please. The old Jane would run so far and so fast, she’d leave a Jane-sized outline in smoke. I still want to say no. This is totally and completely outside of my comfort zone. I’ll probably do something dumb or make a total ass of myself.
But . . . is this a sign?
And if there’s no tomorrow, what does it matter?
Why not go?
It would be different. Different is good.
I need to change something about this day. And if I do something awkward and embarrassing, as I do, it’s not like anyone else will remember because tomorrow will reset everything, so really, there’s no risk.
I could show up wearing a G-string and cowboy boots and the slate will wipe itself clean overnight like it never happened.
“Yeah. Maybe.” I straighten. “I mean, I’ll go.” My voice shakes only a little.
His whole face lights up with his smile and I can’t help but smile back, even if my lips tremble with the motion. “Really? That would be amazing. Eight o’clock.”
I give him a shaky nod and straighten my shoulders. “I’ll be there.”
Chapter Seven
I’m going to do this. I am. I’m going to change something about this day and I’m going to go to this bar to watch Alex’s band. By myself. Not knowing anyone. All alone.
The words pound through my head, each phrase ramping up my anxiety more and more the closer the train gets to my apartment.
What the hell am I thinking?
I can’t go to a bar by myself. I can’t even go to a bar with other people when I’m invited and I know them and have worked with them for years. The crowds. The smell. People watching me, wondering who is this loser at the bar alone.
And what about after? The thought of spending time with Alex outside of work sends a swarm of crows with razor-sharp talons winging through my stomach. But the thought of showing up and not spending time with him is worse. What if he ignores me? What if he has a new girlfriend and she shows up too, and they both stare at me with pity and a vague sense of unease? What if he’s only inviting me because he thinks I won’t go?
After all, I was removed from Alex’s team because of . . . I shut my eyes, but it doesn’t stop me from hurtling back in time, to when I thought there might be something more between us. One more idiocy to add to the mile-long list.
“Did you get lost in here?” Alex asked one fateful day, coming up next me in the
