Page 46 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
“I’ll get you on a bike someday.”
“Sure. Good luck with that.”
He laughs again, then kicks off and glides away into the quiet cul-de-sac. “Have a good one, Mallory.”
“You too, Daniel,” I mutter, but he’s already gone.
I stop by Foxy’s Market on my way back to the condo. I grab a rotisserie chicken, a baguette, and a Caesar salad kit to share with Gramps for dinner. On a whim, I also buy a package of Fig Newtons. When I get home, Gramps is reading out on the balcony, and I stealthily empty the package into the cookie jar on the counter. The one that Lottie always kept full. I can’t wait to see Gramps’s reaction.
I put the chicken and salad in the fridge and check the microwave clock to see how close it is to six o’clock, Gramps’s preferred dinnertime. It’s a quarter till, so I start to set the table, when all of a sudden, my heart freezes.
Shit.
I’ve been offline for two hours.No, no, no.What was I thinking? How could I just forget about work?
Hurtling across the room to where I dropped my bag on the floor, I check my phone with one hand and pull out my laptop with the other. Slack is blowing up. I feel fizzy with panic, my armpits prickling with sweat. I log into my computer and see that most of the messages are garden variety: team chatter, and some questions from stakeholders that aren’t necessarily urgent for me to answer right away. But the name Kat White is flashing, with the number5next to it. Five unread messages from my boss.
Chapter 18
I take a deep, shaky breath, and click on Kat’s name.
Kat White:Hi Mallory. Dominic let me know that you couldn’t make it to the retrospective for his project. Would have been nice to have you there for the key takeaways.
Kat White:Looks like you’re at an appointment, and that’s fine. Just let me know next time.
Kat White:And preferably schedule future appointments during lunch.
The next two messages are from an hour later.
Kat White:Ping me when you get back.
Kat White:Just want to make sure everything’s ok.
Oh no,oh no.
My fingers tremble violently as I type back.
Hey Kat, I’m so sorry about all this! I had no idea my appointment would run so long. It was a dentist appointment that I think I told you about last week. So sorry for any confusion! I will ask Dominic for the notes from his retro.
I bite my tongue at the lie. But I really,reallydon’t want the wrath of Kat turned on me. It did occur to me for half a second to tell her the truth about where I am and what I’m doing, but I don’t want to open a whole other can of worms.
She types back at once.
Kat White:I don’t have a record of that, but it’s possible I forgot. I know how dentist appointments can be. No worries. Thanks for letting me know.
I exhale in relief. I skated this time, but Kat is a stickler for attendance and has a flawless memory. I know that she knows I didn’t tell her about my so-called dentist appointment. I really need to be more careful from now on.
I reply to all the other messages I’ve missed, until it’s six forty-five and Gramps comes wandering in, no doubt guided by his rumbling stomach.
“Hello,” he says cheerfully, opening the fridge. “Think I’ll just make a sandwich.”
“Wait, Gramps, I bought dinner for us,” I say, typing furiously at the same time. “See the chicken and the Caesar salad kit in there? Can you grab them? I’ll get everything ready in one sec.”
“Hmm?” He straightens up and looks at me like he’s never heard the words “salad kit” before.
“Never mind, just one second.” I finish typing my last message so fast it makes my knuckles hurt. Keeping my laptop open, I set it carefully on the counter in front of the Fig Newtons.
Five minutes later, we’re sitting at the table enjoying our Foxy’s Market supper. Gramps happily slathers butter on a hunk of baguette and plops a bite of chicken on top before he eats it. I take small nibbles of the salad. My stomach is still in knots from the work stuff. Missing so many messages, coming so close to a reprimand from Kat: It feels like someone has taken a cheese grater to my nerves. I can’t believe I actually forgot about work for two whole hours on a Thursday. The possibility of getting fired flashes before my eyes: no more cushy paycheck. Having to interview again. Oh God, interviewing is horrible. I would stay at this job for fifteen years to avoid having to interview again.
