a box of tissues.
“I’m sorry. I thought I was starting to pull myself together,” I say, still whimpering.
“Look, Felicity, I want you to take all of the time you need to put yourself back together, however long that may be. We can manage around here until you’re okay.” By the bags under his eyes, I’m guessing my absence may have caused some stress considering the issue with Aspen.
“I need to come back to work. I need to get back into a routine,” I say.
“I think that’s a wise decision,” he says, relief filling his face. I don’t know if he’s saying that for the well-being of the restaurant or for my own good, but I don’t care. It’s what I need right now.
He’s leaning on his desk, feet crossed, arms over his chest. I’ve never asked Grant to do anything for me. I’ve never requested time off or called in sick. I’ve been his right hand in this restaurant since it opened three years ago. And while I never thought I’d try to use that to my advantage, I need to eliminate just a little bit of this strain.
“Grant, I came here to talk to you about coming back to work, but also about something else.” I lift my head, looking him in the eyes, begging without words.
“I’m guessing this is about Aspen?” His voice drops an octave, eliminating the light-hearted vibe from our conversation. This isn’t going to go well. He stands up from his desk and walks around the back side, plopping down in his chair. He jerks a pen from his drawer and taps it nervously on the desk. “Felicity, look,” he sighs, “I’m sorry for what you’re going through. I’ve been thinking about you daily. But…”
“I’m living with her right now,” I add in. “I have nowhere else to go. If you fire her—if I fire her—I’m guessing I’ll be evicted from her life, never mind her apartment. Please, for me, give her another chance?”
He drops the pen on the desk and leans back in his chair. He runs his fingers through his silver hair, the red veins in his eyes brightening. “Shit. Felicity, one of the customers saw her take food from their plate, and I caught her having sex in the freezer.” He pauses for a moment, letting this little tidbit of information stir within me. “We can’t have that shit here. You of all people know this.” Crap. What the hell was she thinking? I’m dumbstruck, and I can’t defend her. “I need her gone. It’s for your own good. If you can’t tell her, I’ll have to.”
It’s for my own good?
Nothing like your boss telling you if you can’t do your job, they’ll do it for you. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll handle it.” I stand from my seat and pull my purse over my shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
He meets me at the door, placing his hand on my back. “Only if you’re sure.”
“I am…” …not. I have to figure out how to get through tonight first.
* * *
Like the mature adult I am, I have spent the greater part of my afternoon driving around town, avoiding Aspen’s apartment. Regardless of only telling Tanner and Aspen I have a working phone, the thing has buzzed with at least a dozen texts in the past hour. I’m avoiding those, too.
I should park down the street from the apartment so she doesn’t see me sitting outside. Her car is here, so she’s home and unknowingly waiting for me to come up there and say what I have to say. I’m aware of how immature I’m being about this, but I just need a little longer.
I slip out of my car, my eyes locked on her front window, checking to see if she spotted me. I think I’m in the clear. Walking at a quick pace, I pass a number of clothing stores and restaurants, noting the dozens of college students loitering in the streets—some are playing instruments, others chatting, then there’s a large group jumping in front of cars, campaigning for something about lifting the filter off of life. Whatever that means.
The farther I walk, the more the street fills with students. Anxiety blooms within me. I need to break away from the crowd.
The eyes and the stares…I don’t know why I feel like everyone is looking at me. Maybe it’s all in my head, but these anxiety attacks keep finding a way in and I can’t get them to go away. I