Page 35 of Cruel Fate

“Maryanne says you’re having some trouble.” I push the swing, my toe pressed against the hard ground.

“Wouldn’t you?” she asks bitterly.

I measure my words. “I did. By the time I ended up here, I’d lived through some pretty crappy situations. There are lots of crummy foster homes in the city. I guess what I want to tell you is that Maryanne cares. She lets you see your dad. She’ll give you what you need—including love. She might be strict, but she’s like that to help you. She wants you to succeed.”

Jilly sniffles. She knows what I’m saying is true. She’s been here long enough to know I’m not lying.

“Don’t blow it, you mean.”

“Listen, Jilly. I know you got it rough. Family who won’t, or can’t, care about you. It’s worse than being alone. There was no one in the whole world who wanted me after my mom passed away. That can make you feel small. That can make you feel invisible. If no one loves you, can you exist? Do you exist?”

Her gaze whips to mine, and I know I landed on the heart of her issues.

“The answer is yes. You exist. You were put on this earth for something extraordinary, but you won’t find out what it is if you curl up in a ball and hide. You had to leave your friends, your school, your neighborhood. Trust me, I did that many times. I graduated high school without one friend. Didn’t have a party—I had no one to invite. Maryanne and I went out and ate dinner at a fancy restaurant, and when she asked me what I wanted for a gift, I asked her for a tattoo.”

Jilly tilts her head in curiosity.

I shrug out of my jacket and pull my sweater’s neckline low, revealing the back of my shoulder. “It’s a dove holding an olive branch. It symbolizes peace. I found peace the minute I realized I can take care of myself, that people will love me, like Maryanne. That just because I don’t have a family, that doesn’t mean I won’t someday. My mom loved me. It’s not her fault she got sick. Your dad loves you, too. Find peace, Jilly.”

I want to tell her more, but I can’t. Tears burn my throat. I never knew my mom, but tonight, sitting under the stars next to this girl who is me four years ago, I miss her.

She starts crying, and I wrap my arms around her. The back door opens, and Maryanne watches us for a long time.

Finally, I nudge her. “Let’s go inside. There’s pie.”

She treats me to a faint smile. “I know. I made it. My dad and I used to bake together.”

“Cool.”

We pass the rest of the evening playing a board game, and I give Jilly my cell number in case she needs to talk. She seems brighter somehow, not so somber. Maybe she realizes she doesn’t have it so bad after all.

Maryanne hugs me tightly and whispers, “Thank you.” She opens the door, and I step out of the only real home I’ve ever known.

The bus drivers nod at me, and I sit next to an old man on the train. I step into my tiny apartment, and the silence envelops me. I have my own place. I have a good job.

Zane texts me goodnight, and I let out a sigh.

Jilly doesn’t have it that bad, and when it comes right down to how things could be, I don’t either.

I’ve barely sat in my seat and booted up my computer, a cup of coffee near my elbow, when Zarah texts and says she can’t meet until later. I have plenty to keep me busy, and I don’t mind.

All morning I meticulously write out messages for Zane and work on my software modules between phone calls and answering email. For lunch, I grab a sandwich from the company cafeteria and read the paper. There’s only a short article about Zane’s parents, and I’ve disappeared from the society pages. Thank goodness. I still don’t have many duties, and that afternoon, Harper asks for my help. I’m grateful she’s not annoyed she has to train me to do basic tasks, and it doesn’t bother me she’s more my supervisor than Zane. I only want tocontribute to the company and earn my paycheck however I can. I eagerly agree to her request.

She fills my email inbox, and I transcribe voice-recorded meeting notes and proofread documents like memos and letters. She’s easing me into what my real duties will be and how Zane, Denton, and Cramer and their assistants run the office. Between those two projects and my classes, I’m busy and happy.

Every time Zane passes my desk, he rests his palm on the surface, just for a moment, before moving on. He’s thinking about me.

He looks sharp in a black suit, and a black, silver, and red tie. He looks older than his twenty-five years, self-assured, confident. But every once in a while I’ll catch him when he thinks no one is watching, and he’ll wipe away tears. I want to hug him, but today Denton and Cramer need every minute and I don’t get a chance to catch him alone.

Everyone is gone for the day, and I sit at my desk and guide myself through a tutorial to learn the scheduling software on my computer. I’m figuring out how to edit my calendar and how to enter appointments into Zane’s.

The screen is full of colored squares, and I constantly look at the key to remember what the colors mean. In the office, out of the office, out of town, out ofcountry.An hour off when he wishes not to be disturbed. Harper told me to do that for him regularly to give him a breather, and that’s when it hit me I’m in control of his time. I want to make the most of that.

It’s approaching six o’clock, and my body is telling me to go home. I don’t blame it. Pajamas, a bowl of popcorn, the couch, and a movie sound pretty good. I don’t know what’s holding Zarah up, but she said she’d text when she’s downstairs.

Sighing, I start another module and feel someone step up behind me.

Zane touches the back of my neck. “What are you still doing here?”

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