Page 20 of Reconnected Hearts
She waves her hand in the air, and I can tell from her expression that she feels just as uncomfortable as I do. “Yeah, no, it’s fine. I was down there anyway, so…”
“Right.”
We fade into a horrifically awkward silence, both of us avoiding eye contact for several painful moments.
“So, I?—”
“Do you?—?”
We look at each other in surprise when we start talking at the same time, and I motion for her to speak.
“You go first.”
She blanches. “Oh, um—” She clears her throat. “I was just gonna let you know that the airline announced that the flight has been rescheduled for tomorrow morning. The weather’s still too bad today to even try.”
The tension in my body goes slack. It feels as though the floor has dropped out beneath me. Realistically, I knew I probably wouldn’t make it in time for the interview. But I’d still had the smallest sliver of hope.
That’s gone now.
“Goddamn it.” I fall back onto the couch and bury my head in my hands. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,shit.”
The couch sinks under the new weight. Lucy slowly moves closer to me.
“Your interview?” she asks. I wordlessly nod, too torn up to even try speaking. I feel a tentative touch on my shoulder, so light that it’s almost unnoticeable, but it’s still there.
It gives me enough strength to pick my head up and look over at her, and I do my best to blink away the tears threatening to fall from my eyes.
“Fuck, Ineededthis job, Lucy,” I begin. “Everyone is depending on me. And I’ve…I’ve let them down.”
Lucy gives me a stern look, but she doesn’t seem mad. She almost seems concerned, and it fills me with an unfamiliar warmth.
“Oh, come on,” she tries. “It can’t be that bad. You can figure something out.”
“Trust me. It’sworse.” I massage my aching temples. “When I was in high school, my dad got laid off. My mom couldn’t work because my youngest sister had just been born, and we couldn’t afford childcare. I got an afterschool job to help out, but it wasn’t enough. We lost the house, and we all just sort of had to go wherever we could. I couch surfed for a while, my mom and two youngest sisters went to my grandma’s, and my dad and oldest sister stayed with my uncle. It wasmiserable.” My voice catches in my throat, but I push on. “I knew it was up to me to fix it. I saved enough to make a down payment on ashittyhouse, but I was working so much that by the time I started college on a scholarship, I didn’t have time to study, and I lost the scholarship. So now I’m drowning in student debt, working seven days a week to provide for my family, and it’s still not enough. This job was supposed to fix everything. I was going to make enough money to pay off my debt, buy a nice place for my family, and not have to work myself to death to do it. But, now…” I let out an incredulous laugh. “Now that’s all down the drain.”
Lucy stares at me for several moments. I’m cracked wide open beneath her gaze. Somehow though, I don’t mind. Iwanther to see all of the oozy, aching insides. I want her to know me.
“Call them,” she finally says, her voice oddly thick, though I don’t think I really want to know why. “Tell them what’s going on and ask to reschedule for tomorrow afternoon instead.”
I shake my head. “They won’t go for it. They’re these super professional, no-nonsense guys. This was my one shot. They won’t give me another.”
“Well, it won’t hurt to try,” Lucy tells me matter-of-factly. “Maybe they’ll say no, but maybe they won’t. It’s worth giving it a shot, right?”
I inhale shakily. I suppose she may be right. The worst they could say is no, but I also don’t think I can handle them telling me no. I’m afraid it may be my last straw.
“C’mon, Noah,” Lucy urges. “Just try. For your sisters.”
It’s amazing how she so quickly figured out the one argument that will always make me give in. If it’s for my sisters, I’ll do absolutely anything.
“Alright, fine. But if I make a fool of myself, I’m gonna blame you.”
“Deal.” A smile spreads across her face, like she’s genuinely thrilled by the prospect of me doing something good for myself. It poses the question: why does she care? I didn’t think she did. If anything, I thought that I was just a distraction from the shitty situation she and I were forced into. Most people, however, don’t help a distraction through a crisis. They wouldn’t care.
It occurs to me...Icare.
I care what she thinks about me. What she’s feeling. I especially care when she smiles, or when she puts her hand on my shoulder. Could she possibly feel what I’m beginning to feel toward her?
I type in the phone number, but I can’t bring myself to press the green CALL button. I’m afraid. No, I’mbeyondafraid. I’m downright terrified. My entire future is resting on this phone call, and the girl who either really hates me or really likes me—depending on her mood—is sitting right next to me, watching it all happen.
