Page 4 of Wasted On Us

Lucy crosses her legs, examining her freshly manicured nails. “That sounds like a bad idea.”

“Oh?” My father coughs, looking through her figures again, trying to figure out what she could possibly have to offer the company at this point. “I’m not sure why.”

“Because the reason I’m suffering is your son. And I wouldn’t want to have to report him for sexual harassment. This being such a tight-knit family-run business and all. I don’t want to come between you two gentlemen. Everyone here is so kind otherwise…”

Flicking the tips of her hair, she offers a forced pout, knowing full well that she has us backed into a corner. Dad swallows a growl, and I watch that vein in his forehead throb so hard I wonder if I’m going to have to call an ambulance or a police car. Possibly both.

“Go.” He speaks carefully and quietly. “I mean it. Get yourself together. You don’t have any more personal time. And have a proposal for an improvement plan on my desk by next Monday.”

“I understand, sir.” Lucy nods, right back to the fake tears in her eyes. She even adds a sniffle for dramatic effect as she stands and walks toward the door. “Thank you for listening.”

As soon as the door closes behind her, I try to follow. Hopefully, if I’m fast enough, I can leave while Dad is still in a rage-fugue. I only manage to get my hand on the door handle before he snaps out of it.

“Mateo.Mijo. How could you be so dense? I did not raise you to be this easily swayed by a pretty face. Workplace romances always go south, and when they do, there is no escape from the fallout.”

I turn to face him, and the one-two punch of disappointment and anger in his eyes makes me want to melt into the floor. “You know, really, the whole thing was her idea. She wanted to go out for drinks with me and—”

“Enough with the excuses. I already told you, time and time again. No dating in the office. No dating anyone who works here. Don’t even date the girl who works in the parts department doing the tire orders, even if that’s on the other side of the building. You never shit where you eat, and now I have to deal with the mess you’ve created. What were you thinking?”

I sit in the chair in front of his desk, my head in my hands. “Maybe I should give up women altogether. Nothing good comes of them, you know?”

“Please,” my father laughs at the idea. “The day you give up women is the day that hell freezes over and all of the pigs sprout wings and fly away from their farms. You’re too handsome for your own good. You got that from your mother. And you’re far too charming. Which you obviously got from me. You could woo a girl with your eyes shut and both hands tied behind your back.”

“I think instead of my eyes, I should have my mouth shut.” I mime zipping my mouth closed with my thumb and forefinger. “It brings me too much trouble.”

My father shakes his head. “The trouble is that you’re in love with love, but you never let it last. You love the chase too much, and not the reward. Women get angry about that.”

“Not true.” Waving my finger in the air, I counter his point. “There is one woman who has my heart forever. One woman who I have never disappointed or made mad.”

“Abuelita doesn’t count,” he sighs.

“How can you say that?” I gasp dramatically, holding my hand over my heart. “To me, Abuelita is everything.”

My father’s disappointment hurt today. But Abuelita’s would hurt even worse. Ever since my mother died, Abuelita has been my whole world. The loss devastated my dad, left him so wounded and wracked with grief that he disappeared into the dealership entirely, and I almost never saw him. Abuelita was there for me every second of every day and always had time to make me feel safe and loved. For the longest time, I was angry with him for abandoning me too. But as I got older, I recognized how hard my mother’s death was for him, and I’ve learned to forgive him over time.

That doesn’t mean that Abuelita and I are any less close.

As I leave the dealership, I think about the beautiful garden that Abuelita has crafted in our yard over the years. Nothing makes her happier than to be amongst her thriving plants. She used to take me out there all the time when I was little, teaching me the names of all of the flowers and showing me what weeds to pull and which ones to leave alone, having me test the soil with my fingertips to see if the plants were thirsty or not. It’s been a long time since I’ve helped her outside. I should bring her home some seeds to plant, or maybe some perennials to put in the ground.

Maybe I can’t make all of the women in my life happy, but I definitely know what makes Abuelita smile. And that’s the most important thing of all.

Chapter Three

Eden

This temp agency office is without a doubt the most miserable place I’ve ever been in. The walls are gray, the chairs are gray, the ceiling and floor are battling shades of greige, and the receptionist herself seems gray, from her dull hair to her lifeless facial expression. She isn’t even wearing a color, just shades of black, white, and khaki. Suddenly, the bun on the top of my head along with my royal blue sheath dress seem noticeably misaligned, as if I’ve somehow stepped into a whimsical children’s book. Even my minimalist wristwatch feels too conspicuous as it catches the light with each precisely calculated movement of my arm.

I also regret filling out my application with a giant novelty pen with a glitter-covered Eiffel Tower on top. Granted, I did think there was another pen in my bag. Or that the receptionist would have one I could use. But she glared at me so hard when I asked that I thought it prudent to just make do with what I had on hand. Even if it makes me look like an overzealous elementary school student. And is leaving a trail of glitter on every surface I touch.

I flick through the mountain of paperwork shoved into the clipboard she handed me and immediately start to panic. This is justtoomuch. I don’t know where to begin. I wasn’t a bad student per se, but if I get too much information at once, my brain just starts to sound like TV static. Before I stop to think about it, I take my phone out and call the smartest person I know.

As it rings, the receptionist coughs gently, and when my eyes meet hers, she points at the giant sign taped to the front of her desk. NO CELL PHONES PLEASE, it reads, in bold font the size of my face. I don’t know how I missed it. I must be the least observant person in the world.

“It’s relevant, I promise!” I beg, covering the speaker with my hand.

“It better be.” She rolls her eyes from behind her glasses. “If I get in trouble for not maintaining control of the office, don’t be surprised if your application gets lost.”

Amazing. I’ve been in the building for less than ten minutes, and I’ve already managed to shove my entire foot in my mouth in front of the one person in charge of getting me another job. I mouth a quick “thank you” before Ensley picks up, hoping that somehow makes up for my inability or unwillingness to read posted signage.

---