Ingrid smiled in spite of herself. “What about just coffee without the cigarette?”
Adele pretended to consider this. “Well,” she said, at last, one turquoise-tipped finger tapping her chin, “it’s better than with a cigarette, so I’ll give it to you. But seriously. Your body needs to be taken care of! What are you having?”
“Butter chicken and rice,” Ingrid replied.
“And you still haven’t eaten yet today? Okay, well, you’re going to have some of my food then. Butter chicken has, like, zero nutritional value aside from fats and proteins. We have to get some greens into you, woman!”
“If you say so,” said Ingrid, pulling a face.
When the waiter had come and gone with their orders, Adele contemplated her new boss. “When did you quit smoking?” she asked.
“How do you know I smoked?” Ingrid replied.
“Because there are pictures of you smoking your way through every war zone of the past twenty years.”
“Right,” said Ingrid. “I keep forgetting you know who I am.”
“Well,” Adele replied, “I wouldn’t go that far. I only met you last week. But I know what you are.”
“And what am I?” Ingrid asked, skeptical but smiling.
“Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours,” Adele shot back.
Ingrid looked at the younger woman. “I don’t want your pity,” she said.
“Don’t worry,” Adele responded. “I don’t give out sympathy for self-inflicted problems. Those are your own damn fault.”
Ingrid shrugged and nodded. “I have lung problems. A respiratory disease that’s only going to get worse. A few years ago I woke up in the middle of the night and I couldn’t breathe. It was…well, it was bad enough that I went to the doctor’s the next day. He said it was quit smoking or quit breathing.”
“I’m impressed that you’ve stuck with it this long.”
Ingrid smiled wanly. “I’ve snuck the odd one but so far, so good. It’s not like I really have a choice.”
Adele shrugged. “I’m sure you know that the threat of death isn’t always taken as seriously as it should be.”
The other woman nodded. “Isn’t that the truth?”
“You know, I always thought you’d die on the job,” Adele said suddenly.
“So did I,” Ingrid admitted. “But then I hit 50, and I was still alive and had a lung condition.”
“And you decided it was time for a change?”
“Something like that. I realized that I didn’t want to die yet.”
“And how’s that going so far? You don’t seem like you’re enjoying living all that much.”
“Maybe that’s because I don’t really feel like I am.”
“And maybe that’s because you haven’t actually given it a chance yet.”
Ingrid frowned. “What do you mean? I’m gainfully employed. I own my own apartment and a nice car. I’ve stopped the drugs and the drinking and the dangerous job. Isn’t that living?”
Adele shrugged. “It just seems to me that all you only count what you had to give up instead of looking at what you could gain.”
“A desk job and a whining HR groupie?”
“Chuck is kind,” Adele defended the missing man. “And that attitude is exactly what I’m talking about.”
Ingrid groaned. “Yeah, yeah, my shitty attitude. I’ve heard it all before. You’re way too young to be acting like my mother, Adele.”
“I don’t want to be your mom,” Adele shot back.
“Good. Because you don’t know me,” Ingrid told her. “Reading my articles doesn’t make you an expert on my life.”
“I already said I didn’t know you,” Adele pointed out. “But I know your life has been hard, and it’s screwed you up, and I know that you don’t know how to let any of it go. And I know that you’re going to be a miserable asshole until you do.”
“Is that how you talk to all your lunch dates?” Ingrid asked.
“No, because usually, I don’t go on dates with women who refuse to look after themselves.”
“I am looking after myself!” Ingrid said, louder than she intended. “I took the job! I gave everything up! What more do you people want from me?”
“It’s not about what other people want,” Adele whispered. “It’s about what you need.”
Ingrid was surprised to find herself near tears. “I don’t know what I need,” she said, her voice soft now too. “Everything used to be easy. I just had to survive. And now…I don’t know how to do any of this. The living is much harder than surviving.”
“Yeah,” said Adele. She inched her hand forward, as though to take Ingrid’s, but then thought better of it and put her hand back in her lap. “You got that right, boss.”
“I’m sorry,” said Ingrid, wiping her eyes with a napkin. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. This isn’t your problem.”
“It’s okay,” said Adele, smiling. “I don’t mind. I’m your intern, remember? I do whatever you need me to do.” She looked down at her hands in her lap and then across the table to Ingrid. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t tell anyone. Not about any of this.”
“Thanks,” said Ingrid as their food arrived.
Chapter Four
Adele’s second Friday at The Chronicle was coming to an end when Chuck found her making chamomile tea in the staff kitchen. “How are things going with Ingrid?” he asked, pouring himself a coffee from the urn. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah, everything is going great,” Adele smiled at him.
Chuck nodded. “I’m honestly pretty impressed that you haven’t asked to be assigned to someone else yet. Ingrid can be hard to work with one-on-one.”
Adele shrugged. “We’ve hit our stride, don’t worry. I’m actually really enjoying it.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear it.” Chuck didn’t seem that pleased. “But you know…you can always come to me if you have any problems.”
“And what kind of problems would I have?”
Chuck looked back at Ingrid’s office and threw up his arms. “God knows,” he replied. “If she tries to talk you into doing some undercover reporting in a Hell’s Angels’ gang or something and you don’t know how to say no. With Ingrid, nothing is too crazy.”
Adele chuckled. “Don’t worry. The craziest thing we’ve done so far is going for lunch.”
“To be honest,” Chuck said, “for Ingrid, willingly going to lunch with a co-worker is actually pretty insane.”
Adele laughed again, picking up the two mugs of tea. “She just needs a little cajoling is all. She’s not so tough.”
“If you say so,” Chuck replied dubiously. He eyed the mugs Adele was carrying. “Did you make one for her too?”
“Yeah. Is that so terrible?”
“No. I just mean she’s not going to drink it. That’s herbal tea.”
“Like I said, Chuck. She just needs a little cajoling. She’ll drink it.”
“I’m starting to think you’re some kind of hypnotist or witch or something,” Chuck said.
Still laughing, Adele left to take Ingrid the tea.
“Thanks,” said Ingrid as Adele set the mug on her desk. “You were right, you know. After that conversation, we had the other day I bought a box of this stuff, and I’ve been drinking it before bed every night. I haven’t even needed my sleeping pills – half the time I nod off right on the couch.”
Adele nodded. “Chamomile’s superb for helping people relax.”
“Plus it is way cheaper than prescription meds, that’s for sure,” Ingrid smiled as she sipped her tea. “I thought we should get out of the office next week after the next edition has gone to print. Maybe Wednesday we could go to a city hall meeting and do some tedious old-school reporting?”
“You sure do know how to show a girl a good time. I’d love to,” Adele grinned.
Ingrid had recently begun to appreciate how expressive Adele’s eyes were. Large and honey-coloured, they caught the light no
matter how dim the room was. When she smiled, they crinkled in the corners, making her look younger than she was.
“Then it’s a date,” said Ingrid, without thinking.
Adele raised a cheeky eyebrow. “You gonna take me out to dinner after then?”
Ingrid swallowed. “Sure,” she said, clearing her throat. “Somewhere cheap so I can afford the amount of food you eat.”
Her intern laughed, throwing her head back. “Fair enough,” she replied when she’d caught her breath. Picking up her empty mug and purse, Adele smiled at her boss. “I’ll see you on Monday,” she said. When she reached the door, she stopped and turned, smiling impishly. “Or maybe we’ll run into each other after yoga again?”
“Shh! Don’t say that word in here!” Ingrid joked. “You don’t know who might hear you!”
Adele laughed again and, waving, went out the door.
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Adele scooted up next to Ingrid where she was loitering in the community center lobby, pretending to read the class schedules posted on the wall.
In reality, Ingrid had made it out of her yoga class in record time to make sure she didn’t miss Adele if the other woman left early – only to then spend ten minutes staring at the notice board, wasting time until Adele showed up.
“Oh, you’re only just leaving now?” Ingrid turned to the redhead, feigning surprise.
“Are you sure you weren’t secretly waiting for me to show up?” Adele replied, waggling her eyebrows.
“I have better things to do with my time than skulk around community center lobbies,” Ingrid shot back.
“Sure you do,” Adele agreed, looping one of her arms through Ingrid’s and surprising them both. “Like moping around your apartment. That’s much more dignified.”
Ingrid laughed despite herself. “Very true. A community center lobby is no place for a self-respecting mope. It’s a very noble art, you know.”
“If you say so,” Adele giggled, leaning on Ingrid, the soft curve of her breast pressing against Ingrid’s arm. Ingrid looked down at the other woman’s smiling face and bit her lip.
As Ingrid watched, Adele leaned in closer, tilting her face up toward Ingrid’s. She opened her mouth to say something and Ingrid couldn’t help herself any longer. She leaned down and kissed Adele.
Adele’s lips were warm and soft and tasted like coconut. She responded immediately, opening her mouth and running her tongue along Ingrid’s. Ingrid’s free hand had a mind of its own, coming up to cradle Adele’s head, tilting it back so that Ingrid had a better angle. Adele moaned softly into Ingrid’s mouth.
The sound snapped Ingrid back to reality. She pulled away, barely registering Adele’s pout. “I’m so sorry,” she stuttered. “That’s…I should not be doing that. I…” She looked down at Adele again, which was a mistake. “I need to go,” said Ingrid abruptly and she turned away, nearly running to her car.
“What the hell?” Adele stared after her. “Ingrid! Ingrid, for the love of—Come back here!”
But Ingrid was already gone.
Adele stood in the parking lot, her gym bag over one shoulder, and groaned in frustration.
That night, Ingrid sat on her couch, got very drunk and, for the first time in a very long time, cried her eyes out. Ever since she’d “retired” to The Chronicle, she’d given up on ever feeling truly alive again. And then along came Adele with her sheer summer dresses and her back talk and her ridiculous herbal teas and, slowly, Ingrid had been lured back into the land of the living.
Gradually, almost without realizing it, she had begun to feel things again. Except that there were a lot of things in her past that made her feel too much and she knew that, if she opened herself up now, it would be a long time before she would be able to deal with all those memories and all those feelings. It had been safer to take her sleeping pills, go to her mind-numbing job, insult Chuck, and feel nothing at all.
That was why she had always been miserable at The Chronicle. She knew being happy came at too high a price. Even if she faced her past head on and addressed her issues, there was no way Adele would stick with her until she was a whole human being again. But, until she was a whole person she couldn’t ask Adele to stick with her at all. It was a vicious circle, really.
“You look like shit,” Chuck said when Ingrid came into his office the next morning. “And why are you here early?”
“Ad—the intern needs to go,” said Ingrid, ignoring his question. “I mean it, Chuck. Assign her to someone else.”
“But you guys were getting along so well. You actually seemed to, dare I say it, like her.” Chuck frowned across his desk at his editor.
Ingrid flinched behind her mirrored aviators, which she still hadn’t taken off. “Yeah, well, things have changed. Just re-assign her, would you? I’ll…I’ll owe you one,” she said, shuddering slightly at the thought.
“Did I hear that correctly? Did the high and mighty Ingrid Novak just offer to do me a favor?”
“Chuck, don’t be a dick about this.”
“She says with wild hypocrisy.”
“Please, Chuck.”
The HR manager frowned. Ingrid never said please. “Okay,” he said, “all right. Consider it done.”
“Thank you,” said Ingrid, levering herself slowly out of the chair and grabbing her coffee from his desk.
Chuck watched her go and knew something was very wrong.
“You made Chuck give me to Bellamy.”
Ingrid looked up. Even though it was 5 o’clock, her hangover was still raging. She was not as young as she once was. “What are you doing here, Adele?”
The redhead crossed the dimly lit office in three angry strides and stood in front of Ingrid’s desk, jabbing her finger against the wooden top. “You made Chuck do it because of yesterday. What is going on, Ingrid?”
“Nothing,” Ingrid replied, wishing Adele would lower her voice. “Office relationships are against company policy. I’m just following the rules.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a grown woman, not some intern fresh out of undergrad. You like me, Ingrid. And, despite all your many flaws, I like you,” Adele crossed her arms. “So what’s the problem?”
“You may as well be fresh out of undergrad. You’re a spoiled, new age yuppie who doesn’t know anything about anything. So don’t come in here acting like you know what’s going on in my head!” Ingrid hated the way Adele’s face crumpled, but she hoped that her cruelty would scare Adele off.
“Why are you acting like this?” Adele whispered.
“I'm not doing anything. This is how I am.”
“No, it’s not. Something’s wrong. Ingrid—” Adele reached across the desk, but Ingrid flinched away.
“Don’t touch me,” Ingrid snapped. “And something is wrong. I’m wrong. I’m broken, Adele. You can’t fix me, so just leave me alone. I’ll only make you unhappy. This is how I am.”
Adele shook her head. “First of all—”
“No! No ‘first of all.' Get out of here. I don’t want to see you or your ridiculous outfits anywhere near my office ever again. We’re done. Go back to your meditation and your granola and stop screwing around with things you don’t understand.”
Adele stepped back as though Ingrid had slapped her. “Okay,” she said finally, her voice very soft. “If that’s what you want.” Adele picked her purse up off the desk. “I didn’t mind you being a bitch, Ingrid. But I never thought you were a coward too.” And, with that, she left the room.
As soon as the door shut behind Adele, Ingrid began to cry.
“Look, I know this really isn’t my place or in your job description or anything but, please, I really need your help.” Chuck had caught Adele making herself a cup of tea again.
“With what?” Adele dipped the tea bag in and out of the water.
“With Ingrid. Look, before you say anything,” Chuck held up his hand to stop whatever Adele had opened her mouth to say, “I know it’s not your job. But there’s som
ething wrong. She’s been even worse than usual. And Sally from accounting says she heard her…” Chuck lowered his voice as if Ingrid might show up at any moment. “She heard her crying in the lady’s room two days ago.”
“And what’s that got to do with me?” Adele asked.
“She likes you. I don’t know – and I don’t want to know – what happened between you two, but she’s hurting. And I know she can be a real bitch sometimes, but she’s had a rough life, and she’s a good person at heart. We joke about it, but we’re all pretty fond of her. And you…you were good for her.”
Adele dunked her teabag more violently. “Well, she doesn’t want me.”
“Or maybe she thinks she shouldn’t want you,” Chuck said. “Just…think about it, okay?”
Adele nodded but didn’t say anything.
Chapter Five
It was Adele’s last day at The Chronicle. She had stayed late to finish editing some articles for next week’s edition. She was proud to know that her work, however small, would be in print for all the world to see. She glanced up, surreptitiously peering over her cubicle wall. The light was still on in Ingrid’s office – Adele could see it leaking out from under the door. Saving her changes, Adele shut down her computer, picked up her coat and bag and, squaring her shoulders, headed over.
Knowing Ingrid wouldn’t answer, Adele didn’t knock.
“Look, Chuck, I said I’d have them by—” Looking up, Ingrid stopped midsentence. “I thought I told you to stay out of here,” she said at last.
“You did,” said Adele. “But I’ve just finished my last shift, so it doesn’t matter what you want. You’re not my boss anymore. And Jesus, Ingrid, you look terrible.”
“Thanks,” Ingrid replied drily. She slouched back in her seat, her button-down shirt rumpled. Its dark blue color set off the sickly pallor of her skin and highlighted the violet bags under her eyes. “What do you want, Adele?”
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