The job seemed interesting. She would be part of a team that built and managed projects meant to bring art and technology to schools that could not pay for private programs that could give them this kind of activity. It was the sort of feel-good work millionaires sometimes guiltily poured money into, and maybe it would allow her to do some good.
She leaned against the counter and waited for the water to boil. She didn’t have any stools to sit on, yet, nor a small kitchen table. But it was fine, this was the first day. She was more than used to lingering, slightly uncomfortable, in small spaces.
She sighed, lifting a hand to rub at her forehead. She didn’t like being uncomfortable. She was over thirty years old; she wasn’t a foolish, desperate girl anymore. It was just so hard to stop running. She had been running for so long, it felt ingrained in her, like she couldn’t stand still even if she wanted to. It had been so many years.
She wondered where Monica was.
That was when she had started running, at the end of high school, and Monica was the one she had left behind, because Monica had been like that: had been her rock. Valerie wondered how she was, if she was happy, if she had ever patched things up with her parents. If she had fallen in love with someone in the past fifteen years. With whom.
A noise snapped her out of her thoughts: the kettle was whistling. Valerie shook her head, she didn’t want to think about any of that anymore, and opened the cup of instant noodles to pour the water in. Three minutes and it’d be done, and she would be off again.
It would be a new life, here in this place that wasn’t as unforgiving as New York, that wouldn’t let her fade among the crowds so easily. Maybe—just maybe—Valerie could change.
***
Valerie strolled into the building she would be working at from now on and looked around with a raised eyebrow. The building was a big corporate affair, shimmering with fancy glass, and it was nothing like the quaint little building she had imagined. Maybe this meant the funding was good; she had been told during the hiring process that she might be able to start on her own little project right away, and it would be nice to know she wouldn’t be floundering with no money to back any ideas up.
“Valerie Dawkins?” a voice called out before she could reach the receptionist.
“That’s me,” she called back, turning to look. The woman walking up to her was tanned and shorter than Valerie. Valerie dimpled when she smiled. “New hire for ShantySea, the non-profit. Are you here to collect me before I can get utterly lost?”
“I don’t think you would have gotten lost; it’s a short elevator ride up, but anything’s an excuse for a break, right?” the woman confided with a grin. Valerie’s smile wasn’t the most honest thing, but maybe the woman wouldn’t notice. “I’m Clarice, one of your coworkers. The meeting’s about to start, so why don’t we head up?”
“Sure,” Valerie said easily, and they got into the elevator. “I’m told the boss, Jerry, wants to talk to me privately after that. Do you have any tips? What kind of boss is he? That kind of thing.”
“He’s like any boss you’ve had,” Clarice said, waving a hand. “Wants us to pull more hours, doesn’t want to replace things when they break because ‘it’s a waste of company money’, won’t give us enough funding for the projects. But he’s a good guy, really, he’s just pressed by the higher ups. He’ll probably want to talk to you about the projects---we’re all mostly working alone, there’s a competition going on.”
“A competition?” Valerie asked, curious.
“He’ll explain it to you. Here we are!”
The doors opened and they stepped out to the lobby of the company. There were two receptionists and some comfortable-looking plush chairs. Clarice smiled at the receptionist and led Valerie into the rooms themselves and Valerie was glad she didn’t have to chitchat with more people before getting to work.
The place was… nice. Valerie was surprised by it; she had expected something fancy, what with the building and the big reception area with the armchairs, but the actual office area was big and roomy and nice the way small restaurants were. You could tell it was well-taken care of by the few people who had been there for years. Valerie felt something settle in her; this seemed like a place she wouldn’t hate spending most of her time in.
It was mostly empty, too; most people were already at the meeting, it seemed. Clarice led her to the meeting room and Valerie wondered fleetingly if she knew anyone in this company, if she would find any old coworkers or old friends. She discarded the thought almost immediately. She was far away from anywhere she had ever lived. Who could she possibly recognize here?
Clarice lingered at the door for a second, then knocked softly and opened it. They walked in.
The meeting hadn’t started yet. People turned to look as they entered, curious; they had known their new coworker had been about to arrive. Valerie smiled a bit awkwardly at them and scanned the faces… and didn’t recognize any.
“Ms. Dawkins,” a man said, standing up; he was middle-aged and looked like someone who had been stressed to some level or other at all times for the past few years. She could safely assume this was Jerry, her new boss. “Please come in and sit down. This is the new coworker I was telling you about, folks.”
“Just Valerie is fine,” she said. “Hey, guys. It’s nice to meet the team.”
“Some of us aren’t here right now,” Jerry told her, shaking his head. “Today’s a Saturday and most people have a half-shift, but the ones with kids have the day off. This is most of the team, though. Shall we?”
“Sure,” Clarice said. She sat down on one of the available chairs and Valerie sat beside her.
The meeting started. It wasn’t terribly interesting, but Valerie tried not to let her mind wander. The competition was interesting, she could see how it would bring up productivity and give all of them space to think up some pretty good projects, but the reward of a promotion wasn’t enticing to her; she knew she wouldn’t win on that alone. No one would give the promotion to a lady that got hired today.
It was a good day, all in all. Valerie had a good feeling about this job.
***
Valerie had less of a good feeling about her new home.
It was strange to walk out of that bright, friendly place and into this small, empty, cold apartment. Valerie was used to it, but she still shivered when she crossed the threshold, crossing her arms. She had another cup of instant noodles inside her bag waiting for her, and the idea of eating was as unappetizing as the idea of having to heat up the water was tiring.
She went to the living room and sat down on the small, dusty couch the landlord had left for her. She looked out the window—it was late, but the sun hadn’t set yet. Even though Saturdays meant half-shifts, she had gotten stuck in that meeting with Jerry, and the man had wanted to show her around, and talk about past projects, and then he pulled her along when a problem came up—
She was glad for the distraction and the excuse not to have to stay in this apartment all day, doing nothing.
Her phone rang and startled her out of her moody thoughts. She blinked and looked down—she had most spam numbers blocked, so who…?
Ah, she thought when she fished her phone out of her bag and looked at the caller ID, crap. She should just let it ring. She didn’t want to answer. She fervently wished she had stayed incommunicado, like the first few years.
“Hello,” she said evenly into the receiver.
“Valerie,” her mother said, relieved and surprised. “I didn’t think you’d answer. Um. I remembered you’d be arriving in…ah…”
“Foxburg,” Valerie supplied in a deadpan voice.
“Yes, that,” she said. “How was the trip…?”
“It was fine.”
“… and, have you had anything to eat? How’s the new apartment, the new job? Your father was just talking to me about, um, about his dogs, you know how he is with them—”
“I sure do,” Valerie said, not a little bitter; the man took
better care of them than of her, back during the last few years she had lived with them as a teenager.
“Well, he was saying, you could get a dog. A little one to keep you company… and he’s got a new litter of sausage dogs being born this week…”
Valerie sighed, letting her head fall to her hand. “Mom, I’m not getting a dog, much less one of Dad’s damn sausage dogs. I’m fine. Life’s fine, like it always is. You’ve checked in and seen I’m fine. Let’s not chitchat. Bye.”
“Wait!” her mother exclaimed, then stuttered for a moment, as if she didn’t quite know what to say. “W-well, I’m glad you’re fine, you just—you didn’t really answer my questions…”
Valerie’s patience reached its limit and she hung up without another word. It was rude, she knew it was, but there was nothing else to be done; it wasn’t like the woman didn’t fucking deserve it, anyway. It was easy for her to be nice and try to stay close to Valerie now that Valerie wasn’t a kid anymore and didn’t depend on her or wish for her approval and love like they were the most important things in the world.
Her mother didn’t try to call. A few months back, she might have tried to call again and pretend Valerie hadn’t hung up on her, commented on how weird it was that the call had been dropped, but now she knew it was useless; it would only make Valerie angry.
She let her phone fall to her side on the couch. She’d make the damn instant noodles and try to get some sleep, and her parents didn’t have to know about any of it.
Chapter Three
Monica walked into the office the following Monday like she always did, tired, stressed, but nonetheless ready to work. She had gotten herself a few volunteers, she had about four thousand emails to write and another thousand to send, the department had a three hour meeting today to introduce them to the higher ups of the private school they were currently working with, and her son David had promised her he would throw the tantrum of the century if she didn’t sit and watch TV with her once they got home. Her day was full. She immediately sat down at her desk and booted up her computer.
“The meeting’s about to start already,” Sharon told her, dropping a cup of coffee in her hands. Monica accepted it with a blink. “Turn off your computer, you won’t have time to do anything before Jerry starts telling us to go to the meeting room.”
“I can at least read a few e-mails,” Monica said with a frown. She took a sip of the coffee and immediately grimaced. Sharon had brought her the shitty instant coffee Jerry supplied their break room with. Monica should rethink this friendship.
“Or we can gossip,” Sharon said, delighted. “You weren’t here Saturday so you missed it; the new hire arrived. I didn’t catch her name, something, something, Dawking? She’s tall, tanned and she’s got a beautiful head of hair.”
“You sound like you have a crush,” Monica joked. “Aren’t you married? How’s Carl?”
“Carl needs to step up his game, is what he needs to do,” Sharon said with an eye-roll. “Can you believe he brought us pizza for our date night this Saturday? Like we don’t have it three times a week already.”
“Divorce him,” Monica said easily, turning back to her computer and turning on the screen. “It’s what I did and it did wonders for my life.”
“You need to stop telling me to divorce him whenever I mention him, or literally any men,” Sharon said. “I’ll start to lose hope in love.”
Monica grinned tiredly at her. “Welcome to the club! Tell me more about this new hire. You don’t think she’s going to join the competition, right?”
“Eh, she’s just been hired,” Sharon said with a shrug. “No way she’s winning a promotion so soon. I on the other hand have been here for years—”
Jerry’s voice rose and echoed around the office before Monica could argue that she was the one who was going to win. They stood up and filed into the meeting room without a fuss; these people were important clients. The school sponsored their projects and in return they would participate in one of the school’s festivals, coming up with something artsy for the children to do.
Monica sat down on the chair she usually did and peered around, trying to spot the new hire. Jerry was the last to enter and there was a woman with him, which should be her; Monica tried to be subtle, because she didn’t want to be the weirdo staring at the new woman, and mostly succeeded.
The woman’s eyes swept over the room, then snagged themselves on Monica. She froze as Jerry kept on walking until he wasn’t blocking Monica’s view of her anymore. Monica froze as well.
Dawkins, Monica thought blandly over the sudden roar in her ears. Valerie Dawkins.
Valerie stared at her with her huge brown eyes, far away, all the way across the room, far enough that Monica felt like the space between them couldn’t ever be breached—and it was the closest Valerie had been to her in nearly fifteen years. The wound in Monica’s chest was torn open, the one Valerie gave her when she simply disappeared all those years ago and left her completely alone, like Valerie had reached into her chest with her bare hands and done the unthinkable, hurting her even more.
Monica felt like blood was pouring out of her, Christ it hurts.
And then Valerie looked away, and Monica’s hurt turned to rage.
Sharon leaned toward her with worry in her face, asking her if something had happened, but Monica only barely heard her; she was consumed by a white-hot kind of fury that felt so huge it nearly cancelled itself out, leaving her feeling cold and shaky. Valerie was here, here in Foxburg, here in the company Monica worked at, and she had the fucking gall to look away from Monica. Monica wanted to stand up and shout; she wanted to say fuck it to the clients and grab Valerie and storm out, to demand answers, to grab her and not let go.
She held herself still. She was over thirty years old; she was an adult; she was a mother. It was a childish thing, her anger. A wounded, small thing. She wanted to grab Valerie by the shoulders and wail and ask her why she had left her behind.
She spent the entire three hours of the meeting like that, sitting still and trying not to look at Valerie, wanting to cry.
***
When the meeting ended, everyone was exhausted and people were slow to file out of the room. Many thanks were given and many hands were shaken and it wasn’t hard for Monica to plaster a polite smile on her face, because she was very good at pretending everything was just fine. She didn’t look at Valerie, not even when the hairs at the back of her neck stood up at the feeling of being watched.
She walked out slowly, heading to her desk. Sharon had given up on trying to get anything out of her, though she was still looking at Monica with suspicious eyes. Monica didn’t care. Monica went to her desk but didn’t sit, and looked around for Valerie.
Valerie was lingering at the door of the meeting room beside Clarice, eyes on Monica, not eight feet away. Close enough to hear her.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” Monica asked blandly, the first words Valerie had heard from her in over a decade.
“Maybe not here,” Valerie said lightly, looking away.
Her voice was just the same. It was just the same as all the nights they had spent together, clear and slightly husky from a smoking habit she could never quite abandon—at least not then. It hurt Monica, but she looked away and didn’t show it. She started walking toward one of the empty offices at the end of the hall and after a few seconds, she heard Valerie’s soft steps following her.
She walked in. Valerie followed her. She closed the door, then kept holding the doorknob with white knuckles, unable to turn back to look at Valerie. The office was quiet and too small and empty and dusty; it was one of the ones used for storage, but things had recently been cleared out. They were alone.
“Well, this is awkward,” Valerie muttered.
Monica swiveled around and wanted to punch her. She didn’t. She didn’t walk toward her. Valerie was sitting on the edge of a forgotten desk and looking out the window instead of looking at her and it only made Monica more furious.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “After all these years, you just show you like this! The—the nerve of you!”
“Hey, I didn’t know you lived here or were working with this company,” Valerie defended, standing up and turning to her. “I wasn’t following you or searching for you or anything.”
Oh, they hurt. The words, they hurt her. Monica made a small wounded noise, she couldn’t keep it in, and Valerie’s mouth clamped shut in guilt. I wasn’t searching for you. Her eyes were wide but her arms crossed very tightly; she wouldn’t reach for Monica no matter what.
“So that’s it?” Monica asked, hands curled in fists, gaze on the floor. “You’ll just show up and we’ll both pretend like it’s all—like everything’s just fine? Like nothing happened? We’ll just—”
“Move on,” Valerie completed.
Monica hated her, really, she did.
“I’ve moved on,” she hissed, then again for good measure: “I’ve moved on! I went to a different town, I’ve lived my life, everything is fine, and now you’re here out of nowhere, crashing like a meteor and destroying everything like you always do! What am I supposed to do, pretend it’s all fine?”
“I don’t destroy everything,” Valerie shouted, furious too. “It’s not on me if you’re still angry that I broke up with you! Christ, Mon, grow up. We’re over thirty now! We can be civilized people and occupy the same room at the same time, can’t we?”
You left me, Monica thought. She wanted the words to hurt. You abandoned me, I had no one but you and you left me.
But she thought, looking at Valerie’s angry face, that the words wouldn’t hurt her like they would hurt Monica. That was how Valerie managed to leave, wasn’t it? She never really loved her.
“You don’t get to say those things to me,” Monica said icily. “You don’t get to pretend to be the better person, to pretend you just broke up with me.”
Second Time Around Page 2
