Inhale, Exhale - By Sarah M. Ross Page 0,11
finally had made it home last night, my mother never mentioned hearing from Connie, so I assumed I wasn’t fired yet. Not that I had much hope of surviving the week, but at least I lived to see another day.
I woke up with the sunrise; my nerves had prevented me from settling into a deep sleep for most of the night. I decided to go for an early-morning run along the beach to de-stress. The whole time I ran, I repeated the mantra, “I can do this, I can do this.” It worked like magic, and now I had half-deluded myself into thinking I was ready to face the day.
I smiled at Connie, hoping my grin would convince her—and me. “Oh, it was fine. No problems at all.”
I couldn’t very well admit I sucked big time at this job. If Connie hadn’t heard I was a colossal screw-up by now, I’d have another day to prove myself so I didn’t get fired. I needed the money to pay for books this fall, and I couldn’t stand to see my mother’s face if I did get canned.
“Well, that’s wonderful. I’m glad you’re catching on so quickly.” She paused, pursing her lips like she was sucking on something sour. “IT said they were sorry they didn’t get to you yesterday, but they’d be by first thing this morning to hook up your computer and get you your login information so you can get started. Afterwards, I’ll have the girls up front know you’re ready to answer the calls on your own.” She patted me on the back, smiling widely with confidence I wished I shared.
As I settled into my cubicle and put on my headset, I let out a deep breath and prepared for another long day.
I slept like shit. My late-night dinner had given me mild heartburn. I tossed and turned, knowing I had to get up early. My coxswain would kill me if I showed up late to practice. My crew team had its first meet of the season in a few weeks, which could qualify us for the National Championship, so I needed to be in top condition.
The alarm on my phone jolted me awake, still in my clothes, spun sideways on the bed with my head and one socked foot hanging off each side. I really needed to change my ringtone. Hearing Cartman from South Park screaming, “Oh my God! They killed Kenny! Get out of bed!” was no longer funny at the butt-crack of dawn. My head was throbbing, so I downed four aspirin and a bottle of Gatorade before I took a scalding hot shower to wake myself up.
I met my team at the marina by the Lanier Bridge, which crossed the Brunswick River. We were still waiting on JT, who was notoriously late but usually brought donuts.
“What’s up, Grant? Haven’t seen you around much,” my coxswain, Luca, asked. He was a grad student as well, studying political science. I’d known this group of guys since I started my graduate work. We were like our own fraternity, and while I loved them like brothers, I’d barely seen them during the off season.
“Yeah, I’ve been crazy busy at work. And stuff with my dad has been keepin’ me busy.”
“That sucks, dude. You should come up to campus with us this weekend, we’re having a mixer with the TAs from the Humanities department. Do you remember how drunk Dr. Ulin’s TA Becky got last year? I believe there were lampshades and a goat involved by the end of the night.”
I spit out the sip of Gatorade I’d just sipped. “I forgot all about that. What did they call her for the rest of the year? Baaaa-cky? God, even her students called her that, poor girl.”
“Yeah, she swore she’d never drink again after that night. Tequila shooters starting at noon will do that I guess. So are you gonna come?”
“You might just see me there. C’mon, let’s get this boat in the water. I need to be at work in an hour.”
Luca called the crew together once JT finally showed up, and I took my spot in the sixth position. I’d rowed several different types of boats as an undergrad, but now I only had time for the eight-man sweep team, which was a personal favorite anyway. We rowed it twice this morning, once up and once back, our time improving slightly the second go-round. The workout was exactly what I needed. A steady course of adrenaline coursed through