Page 8 of A Play For The Heart
“Hi, I’m Nathalie. You must be Sawyer, it’s so nice to meet you!” She walks towards me, a clipboard in hand. “I’m sure Erika told you, but she has meetings today, so I’ll be giving you the tour.” She smiles at me and looks down at her clipboard, using a pen to check off something on the top sheet of paper.
“Stop number one: the lunchroom.” She turns on her heels and heads out of my office and down the hallway. She leads me through the office space, pointing out different offices and bathrooms. “My office is directly next to yours. I run the social media and website and will help you plan events for the organization.” She continues through the space taking the staircase back to the lobby.
“If you take a right instead of a left at the reception desk, that leads you towards the two gyms and other rooms that host the after-school programs. We’ll head down there this afternoon, so you can meet some of the kids and get a feel for how things run.” We return to my office, and I expect her to leave, but instead, she takes a seat.
“So, a little about the culture here,” she starts, looking down at her clipboard momentarily before looking back at me. “We’re a small group. Outside of Erika and I, there are not many of us. We have students from the local universities that come in and volunteer in the afternoon, but most everything else is run by us. We have an accountant and all that, but I think I’ve met him once and I’m not convinced he’s not just a ghost who's really good at math.”
She laughs at her joke, and I can feel the last remnants of my anxiety about the move fade away. So far Erika and Nathalie seem great, and the job sounded like the perfect fit when I applied. I was excited about the job, but it’s hard not to worry when you’ve interviewed online from a different state and only met the founder. Lots of potential for something to go wrong.
Nathalie looks around my office, investigating the decorations I put up when her attention snags on the two photos I placed in the corner of the desk. My shoulders tense, afraid she may recognize them both. When it seems like she doesn't, I release a breath.
“Oh!” she says excitingly. “Is that your boyfriend? He’s so cute!” I follow her gaze to see what photo she’s looking at and huff a laugh when I realize which one caught her eye.
“No,” I chuckle. “That’s Henry, my best friend.” The photo is of the two of us at the NFL Draft. A photo I absolutely adore. Henry and I are standing beside each other in front of a backdrop. I’m wearing a gorgeous floor-length emerald gown and Henry is wearing a crisp black suit. The photographer caught us mid-laugh, where I’m looking up at Henry and he’s gazing down at me, laughter crinkling our eyes. We look adorable, and I can see how she would mistake him for my boyfriend.
Nathalie pauses, embarrassment crossing her features, cheeks stained a bubblegum pink. “Oh my, I’m sorry, I just assumed since he was looking at you like...that.” She shifts in her seat, waving her hand to signal at whatever ‘that’ is. I refrain from asking what exactly she means. She’s uncomfortable with her slip-up, so I decide to offer an olive branch.
“The other photo is of my boyfriend, Declan, and I at the zoo.” I push the photo towards her, so she can take a look. The picture makes me laugh every time I see it, the exact reason I spent way too much money on it. Declan and I visited the zoo for our first date and at the entrance, they offered to take our photo. The borders of the photo are different zoo animals and at the center, Declan and I stand next to each other, looking incredibly awkward. My hair is a frizzy mess and Declan looks nervous. Neither of us knew what to do with our limbs and before we could decide, the photographer took the photo, shoved a card into our hand, and shooed us away. “It’s actually us on our first date,” I grin. “We both look insane; I love it.”
Nathalie seems to have recovered from the small bout of embarrassment she was feeling, the red color in her cheeks fading. “Do they both live in Seattle?” she asked.
“Yeah, it was hard being apart from them when they moved.” She nods in understanding. Not being close to the people you love can become isolating. Six months away from Henry and it felt like I had lost a limb.
“If my boyfriend and best friend looked like that, I would also miss them enough to move,” she winks, shooting me a grin. “Well, I’ll let you get settled and come back later when the kids start coming for the after-school programs.”
Spending the morning brainstorming event ideas to raise money leaves me even more excited about my new job. Closing my laptop, I finally take a break and check my phone.
Me:Hey, want to have dinner tonight?
I can cook something you like :) I miss you.
Declan:Sorry. I can’t.
Have football stuff.
Maybe this weekend.
I reread the text messages, confused. I’ve been in Seattle for a few days, and Declan hasn’t texted first once, let alone tried to see me. I imagined moving to Seattle would make the relationship easier. With his football schedule, long distance was hard on both of us. His lack of interest in seeing me is beginning to feel less about his schedule and more like he’s intentionally avoiding me. Part of me wants to bring it up to him. The other part keeps trying to convince myself I'm overthinking. Creating something from nothing. Before I can dwell on the thought, Nathalie knocks and enters my office.
“The kids are starting to show up for the afternoon. We can head down there, and I’ll show you around.” Pocketing my phone, I follow Nathalie down the stairs towards the gym.
Pushing open the door that leads into the large gym, I’m bombarded with the sound of screaming children and squeaky shoes echoing against the hardwood floor. I follow Nathalie towards the volunteers huddled in the back corner while I try to dodge running children and errant balls.
“It’s always chaotic before the program officially starts.” She laughs, weaving through the crowd of children, gracefully avoiding collisions. Nathalie leads us to the sideline set up with chairs on each side of a plastic folding table. “Today’s sport is basketball, so the kids will be split up into teams and play in a little mini-tournament. The volunteers act as coaches and every kid is encouraged to play. If they don’t want to participate in the sport of the day, they can play in the other gym where there are more volunteers or in one of the craft rooms down the hall.”
Right as I begin to respond, I watch a child beeline at max speed directly toward Nathalie, crashing into her with a hug. Peeling off of her, the boy turns to me with an inquisitive look on his face. He can’t be older than six or seven and is covered head to toe in Seattle Mavericks gear. A walking advertisement. He turns his head to the side, looking at Nathalie and then back at me. The movement displays the number eleven shaved on the side of his dark, black hair. A soft smile spreads across my cheeks and I pocket the small piece of information. The little boy looks absolutely adorable and based on the large amount of navy and silver covering his body, I would bet Henry's salary that he’s the Seattle Mavericks’ biggest fan. With a very serious look on his small, round face, he reaches his tiny hand out toward me. “My name's Micah Campbell. Do you work here now?”
I grasp his small hand in mine and give it a firm shake, working hard to keep my expression neutral. “Hi, Micah Campbell, I’m Sawyer Jones. Yes, I work here. Today is my first day.”
He processes that information, and an exaggerated look of contemplation takes over his features, trying to decide if he deems the answer acceptable. With a nod, he asks a very important follow-up question, “Do you like the Seattle Mavericks?”
I do my very best not to laugh at the seriousness and accusation in his tone, but a smile slips through anyway.
“Ilovethe Seattle Mavericks.”
Satisfied with my response, he turns around without a word or a wave goodbye and runs back to his friends across the gym, limbs flailing as he runs away. The moment he’s gone, Nathalie bursts out in laughter. “He does that with every new volunteer and employee,” she says doubled over, in between breaths, “but I’ve never seen someone respond to him with the same seriousness he has. That was amazing.”
“He asked some very important questions.” I shrug, shooting her a smile while she catches her breath. If Micah ever found out about my connections with the Seattle Mavericks, he may faint.
