Page 23 of Be Your Anything
Thankfully, the position I had at Événements Magnifiques was a lot more stressful and time-consuming than what I’m doing at The Roth Foundation. So, managing the expectations my family has placed on me by hiring me into this position isn’ttoomuch of a burden.
But this fucking chair is going to be the death of me.
The sound of sliding doors opening has me lifting my head to glance across the empty space, and I can’t help the little extra thump my heart does when I see Lucas walk around the corner. He heads straight for my office door, his steps hushed by the carpet that runs the length of the hallway, and he grins when he realizes I’m watching him walk between the desks that clutter the central part of the third floor.
“Knock, knock,” he says once he’s standing just beyond the doorway. He taps twice on the metal doorjamb then lifts up a paper bag in his other hand. “I come bearing sustenance.”
I laugh. “You are alifesaver.” I click my pen closed and stand, reaching across to take the food from his proffered hand. “I am absolutely famished and this is exactly what I needed. I can’t expect that box of cookie samples to tide me over.”
“Well, I am more than happy to be of service,” he says, giving me a mock bow.
I shake my head then begin unpacking the various containers, sorting through the egg drop soup and beef chow mien to find my seaweed tofu soup and eggplant stir-fry.
Lucas takes the momentary silence to wander around my office, his eyes inspecting everything he can see.
He’s been in here only once before, a day back in early April when he, Otto, and Paige picked me up before we went to a Dodgers game.
My stomach turns over at the memory of the helicopter ride Otto’s dad scheduled for us to take to the stadium. I’m not one for heights, and I could definitely do without ever having to be in a helicopter ever again.
This time, he’s much nosier, taking in what’s on the walls and sitting on bookshelves, the tiny items I have spread throughout the room that make it mine.
I remember going into my grandfather’s office back when he used to live in Boston, before he and his third wife decided to move to Southern California and be a more integral part of the foundation. I always loved the warmth of his space, the knickknacks spread out—signed baseballs, golf trophies, a photo of him with a future president during a campaign when he’d endorsed the man for office.
I always envisioned something similar for myself. Warm colors—deep burgundies and chocolates—mixed with leather and brass. It always smelled faintly of cigar smoke, and I used to love to curl up on his massive couch, snuggling into a fleece-lined afghan. I always stole it away with me when I left, and yet there was always a new one miraculously in its place the next time I visited.
Unfortunately, the office I’ve been given as the Director of Event Operations has incredibly minimalistic furniture and massive windows that give me tons of natural light. It’s the vibe of the entire complex, actually—a three-story commercial building my great-grandfather built specifically for the purposes of housing The Roth Foundation back in the mid ’50s.
Back then, it was the tallest building in the neighborhood, since most beach towns didn’t have a need for high-rises or structures over two stories. Now, plenty of buildings stand taller than this one, but none of them are more beautiful.
The interiors and exteriors are remodeled each decade, all furniture replaced regularly, the spaces reconfigured to suit current workplace needs.
My office is part of the third floor, which was redesigned a few years ago to create more of an open, collaborative workflow with large, shared desks, movable walls, and a variety of seating ranging from love seats to bean bag chairs. The director offices are clustered in groups in each corner, walled off only by massive windows, allowing natural light to flow into the central hub.
It really is a great environment to work in—Ellison’s presence being the one obvious downside—and I’ve been enjoying the strikingly different working style, the very collaborative, group focus as opposed to the individual workhorse approach we had in Paris.
The Roth Foundation has always been pretty ahead of the times when it comes to keeping current, regardless of the image my mother likes to portray of firmly set traditions from the past. It’s a good thing in general, but the continual upgrading also means the beautiful interiors I loved so much as a child have been long refurbished, repainted, or replaced. The Scandinavian efficiency, the minimalism that creates a much more open office environment, definitely takes precedence over my own interest in old-school office décor.
Luckily, I’m still able to decorate as I see fit when it comes to what I hang on the walls and put on the bookshelves.
My degree in business communications from Brown University hangs proudly on the wall behind me, along with pennants and a few mementos.
Like my graduation stole, embroidered with my Greek letters and folded neatly into a shadow box with my hat and tassel, and the plaque I received when I was voted Chapter President of the Year during the annual Greek awards ceremony.
The bookshelves contain photos of myself with various members of the French Parliament, with the cousins I visit every Thanksgiving at the Kennedy compound, and surrounded by my sorority sisters at my initiation ceremony.
I have throw blankets on chairs, a coffee table with a couch, pillows with cats on them, and curtains I had specially designed to fit the space.
In short, I’ve done everything I can to invoke the feeling of hominess in my office, to replicate the feeling I had as a child when visiting my grandfather’s office in Boston.
And now, having Lucas in my space, inspecting it…I feel a little nervous.
It’s a stupid thing to feel. It doesn’t actually matter what he thinks about the room where I spend the majority of my weekdays, what opinion he has of the things hanging on the walls or the choices I’ve made for décor.
And yet…itdoesmatter.
His inspection feels personal, like he’s examining my insides to determine their worth. Because everything I have in this space, on my walls and my shelves,ispersonal.
I want him to like everything I have, everything I do, everything I say.
