Please Be Seated

by Jenny Bunting

  “Got it,” I say. “Email me the flight info.”

  “She already did it,” Daryl says.

  “Thanks, boss,” I say. I end the call and chuck my phone across the room. I finish ironing the pants to the best they’re going to be and take all the clothes into the bathroom.

  Now that this is on the verge of ending, Landon seeing me naked is too much since we are about to become strangers.

  When I walk out, Landon stands in the same spot. His indifferent stance tells me everything I need to know.

  “I’ll come to the airport with you. I should see what’s going on with the flight to San Francisco anyway.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “We can just chalk this up to a fun flight and a fun night,” Landon says. I expect him to smile at his rhyme, but it does not register.

  “I think so,” I say.

  He crosses his arms, and his eyes look everywhere but at me. “I mean, this wasn’t meant to be forever. This wasn’t fate.”

  “No,” I agree.

  “Okay,” he agrees.

  How quickly he gives up on this is my answer. This was nothing to him.

  There’s something in his eyes that is confusing, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

  We collect our belongings quickly, and Landon checks us out as I call a cab. The morning air is crisp on my skin; fall has arrived. The seasons barely change in San Francisco, so it’s nice to see the season, even for a moment.

  I choose to focus on this moment. Not that it is ending, but that it happened.

  This will be a good memory to take me through the rest of my life.

  Something gnaws at me, though, when Landon walks toward me with a nod. His eyes look heavy and red, and he sniffles as he takes me in his arms and says nothing. I wrap my arms around him in response, and we settle in together. He kisses my hair just as the cab arrives.

  Landon takes my luggage from me and puts it in the trunk.

  The pangs begin in my chest as I sit there next to Landon. He grips my hand even though we are not meant to be, and it makes my heart soar and ache all at the same time.

  Landon rushed into my life unexpectedly, and now he is leaving it forever.

  It’s silly to say, but he changed me.

  When we reach the airport, I pull up the reservation details that Charlotte emailed me. I check in and get my boarding pass as Landon checks in with Skyline on alternatives to get him to San Francisco.

  I wait for him, although my flight is boarding soon.

  I have to.

  He finally finishes and approaches me.

  “This was so great,” he says, taking my arms in his hands. “I am so glad we were seated together.”

  “Me too,” I say. I do not ask when we will see each other again. I wait for him to ask for my number, but he doesn’t. With a smile, I say, “I guess we’ll just leave it up to fate, huh?”

  “I guess,” he says. “You can finally prove to me that fate is real.”

  He kisses me tenderly, softly, with a caress of my cheek.

  The announcements shake me from this dream. I need to go.

  I walk away, and my heart cannot take it. This feels wrong. Why didn’t he ask for my phone number? It feels like I’m floating as I make my way through security and to my gate. I make it just in time.

  When I’m seated, I have women on either side of me. I’m back in my uncomfortable suit, heading to do a job I hate, and away from a man I could’ve seen a future with after less than twenty-four hours.

  I cannot help it. I begin to sob.

  7

  Usually, Mondays are always a bitch, but this Monday…

  This Monday is a big ol’ bitch.

  I take the bus to my stop, three blocks from my office. I am cornered by two homeless people who will not give up, and everything smells worse than Smelly Feet Guy’s feet.

  The breeze kicks up, freezing me in my bones, and I pull open my office building’s door. The lobby is unnecessarily warm, probably a knee-jerk reaction to the cold outside, and I sweat instantly in my blazer.

  I had closed the deal after hours of grueling negotiation. Daryl called in, and we closed it together. The papers had been signed, and I got a virtual pat on the back.

  Usually, I would feel great victory and satisfaction at a job well done.

  However, I became the cliché I hated: a woman pining after a man who didn’t want her.

  Landon was so perfect on the plane, completely into me and reactive. His kisses told me he wanted me, and our time in the motel felt magical. He had carved a hollow hole within me, and I felt barren when he didn’t ask to see me, didn’t arrange a time, didn’t put my number in his phone.

  He had been clear, though. This was not fate. This was not meant to be. We did not experience love at first sight.

  It shattered me. I still feel broken as I climb the stairs to the third floor. I don’t trust elevators.

  I open the door to our suite to see a new receptionist. The spot never stays filled for long; it isn’t worth it to learn their names. I smile. Today it is a white woman with puffy gray hair and chains linked to her glasses.

  My cubicle is in a dead pocket of the office, facing a corner of a wall. Only the offices have views of other gray buildings. I drop all my stuff, my backpack, my lunch, my coffee mug.

  This cubicle feels small.

  Grabbing my heels, I sit down and slip out of my sneakers and slip the uncomfortable leather onto my feet.

  “Knock, knock,” Daryl says, propping his forearms on my cubicle’s top.

  “Hey, Daryl,” I say, the weariness audible in my voice.

  “You don’t look so good.”

  “Well, it was a long week last week.”

  I slept all weekend. I did a little bit of work, but my body shut down completely.

  “I was hoping you could’ve emailed a little bit more,” he says, holding his forefinger and thumb an inch apart.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “We have a team meeting at nine in my office,” Daryl says. He snaps his fingers at me, and I scream on the inside. “See you there!”

  “Of course,” I say. I fire up my computer and make a quick to-do list for the day. The words on the computer swim as I blink to focus my eyes. Rubbing my temples does absolutely nothing. The coffee does nothing.

  Being back in this office will get better. I will get back into the routine, and everything will be fine.

  We closed the deal.

  This promotion is mine.

  Then, I will get a nice office with sunlight, pile books I love on the bookshelf, and swivel in a chair whenever someone comes to my door.

  I think about this until nine for our meeting.

  “I want everyone to congratulate Erin on closing the Coffer Group,” Daryl says with an initiating applause. The rest of my coworkers give unenthusiastic claps as I press my lips into a hard line. “She was stranded in Iowa due to a plane delay and then got back on a plane, laid over, and got back to our new acquisition to close the deal. Everyone take note…this is what dedication looks like.”

  My coworkers sneer at me, and I don’t blame them.

  This office is competitive to a fault; no one cheers another’s successes.

  I can’t wait to be out of the trenches and in an office, just like this one.

  “Erin, can you hang back?” Daryl asks after the meeting ends. I nod, and my stomach churns.

  Here we go. Moment of truth.

  He motions for me to sit, and I smooth out my skirt before perching on the chair’s end. He closes the door and then sits on the edge of the desk, feet away from me.

  “I cannot tell you enough how excellent you did in New York.”

  “Thank you, sir. It was my pleasure.”

  “So,” he says. He stands up and walks to his office chair. He licks his thumb to open a folder. “I have a new project for you.”

  He pushes a paper to me.

  “Sir, I was curious about the promoti
on. You mentioned that over the phone…”

  “Oh,” he says, pushing away my idea like it’s a fly. “Not right now. There isn’t a spot available for you to take.”

  My stomach churns harder. My palms sweat at the thought of what I have to do.

  Confrontation.

  This has been brewing for years. This has been coming toward me like a slow-moving train, and I could’ve gotten out of the way of it at any time, but I didn’t. I willingly stayed here, watching the bright light come closer and closer.

  “Besides, you are a better foot soldier. You don’t want to do what I do. You like to get your hands dirty. Shake the hands, revel in the thrill of negotiation.”

  “But..” I say, stumbling over my words. The stomach churning morphs into full-blown cramps.

  “So this new project, much easier than the one you just closed…”

  My throat goes dry, and the room spins.

  Landon knew what I didn’t know.

  I fucking hate this job.

  I always thought work is work. It’s something everyone hates. But not everyone hates what they do.

  Landon doesn’t. My roommate left a job she hated and now she’s doing what she loves.

  Even Zoey, the random girl I met in a club bathroom in South Lake Tahoe, found a job she loves.

  It becomes clear to me. Crystal, even.

  I stand up, and Daryl barely glances up. I wait for his eyes to meet mine, and I cross my arms since it feels uncomfortable to wait.

  “What?” he asks. “You can review it at your desk, if you would like.”

  Closing my eyes, I center myself. Breathe in, breathe out.

  “No. I’m done working here.”

  He looks up like I’m bothering him. The silence hangs uncomfortably.

  “I don’t think I can work here anymore,” I blurt out.

  His glance is full-perturbed. I uncross my arms and balance my fingertips on the desk.

  “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way,” Daryl says. “You’re one of our best.”

  I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe some grand gesture. Maybe some, “Just kidding. We were totally going to give you that promotion!”

  Instead, Daryl acts like I just told him I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon and I need to leave early.

  This solidifies everything I knew within myself.

  This job does not care about me. This company doesn’t care about me.

  A part of me wishes I had told Daryl to go to hell over the phone, and got on that plane with Landon, and figured out everything when I got home. Maybe everything would be different.

  “Okay, well, I guess this is my resignation,” I say.

  Turning on my heel, I leave, and I cannot believe I just quit my fucking job.

  Something my friends have been telling me to do for years.

  Something Landon saw within four hours of being around me.

  A huge boulder has lifted off my shoulders, and I feel light, buoyant in the air.

  I collect my stuff, including my meager collection of supplies I brought with me to the office, and I leave, feeling like Jerry Maguire—without the grand speeches. I am full of hope and optimism, and the anxious nerves flow away.

  It doesn’t hit me until I leave the building.

  What did I just do?

  Cassie is home when I walk in. She is busy setting up her camera facing a huge green screen. The noise-canceling curtains are already hung, thick black curtains made of heavy fabric that block light and most of the street sounds.

  Cassie is an ASMR artist—a creator on YouTube who makes people sleep, essentially, usually by whispering or tapping on things. I thought it was a joke at first when she first started getting into it, but she now has over three hundred thousand subscribers on YouTube and gets sponsorship deals for one video that is more than I make in a month.

  “Hey, girl. You’re home early,” Cassie says. “I’m about to film a video. Will you be around?”

  “I just quit my job,” I say, my voice cascading down.

  “Holy shit, really?” Cassie covers her mouth in disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually did it.”

  “I did,” I say, flopping onto the couch. My bed set-up is folded at the end, and my head rests on the pillow stacked on top of the sheets. Now that my greatest stressor is gone, I could fall asleep and not wake up for five years.

  Once Cassie starts her video, I may fall asleep and never wake up.

  “Did you hear from that guy?” Cassie asks as she pulls a small desk over and props one of her microphones on top of it. I shake my head.

  “You gave him your number, right?”

  “No. I’m such an idiot. I let him go down on me.”

  “Hey, never apologize for getting your pussy licked,” Cassie says, angling the microphone.

  “I sucked his dick, too,” I say.

  “Well, it’s only fair,” Cassie replies.

  “Maybe Landon was right. Maybe it was just a chance encounter. He isn’t the one or anything.”

  “I’m okay with anything that gets you over that other loser,” Cassie says. She refuses to say Patrick’s name since he left me at the altar.

  I bury my head in the pillows. “I’m more upset about Landon than my job.”

  “Wow,” Cassie says. “I have to film several videos today. If you want to be on camera, I can do a hair-brushing video.”

  “No thanks,” I say. “I think I will go walk around. Maybe get some coffee. So, you can film your videos.”

  “Thanks, love,” Cassie says. She stands up and opens her arms. I walk into them. Her arms are tiny, but they give the best hugs, full and crushing. She separates with a smile. “Chin up. It’s only up from here.”

  I smile, grabbing a pair of yoga pants and a white shirt. I change quickly and slip on my white sneakers. After I grab my phone and card and slip into my down jacket, I leave, and I’m outside.

  I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing. I just quit my job. I have no boyfriend, no real apartment. The wind is as aimless as I am.

  My favorite place is the perfect solution—a coffee shop next to an independent bookstore—and I pop in. A distinct book smell hits my nostrils, and I close my eyes to focus on the smell. Books always give great comfort, no matter what stage of life you’re in.

  The line for the coffee counter is long, maybe six people deep.

  All my problems will be temporarily solved by a soy latte.

  I pull out my phone as I wait, standing behind a man with blond hair, wearing a flannel shirt.

  Instagram sucks me in, and I scroll through photo after photo of a happy life veneer. What pain lurks behind those photos? Who is in a loveless marriage? Who can’t pay their rent?

  I’m so engrossed that I don’t see the person in front of me turn around.

  “Erin?”

  I look up, and Landon Walcott, my rowmate and one-night, third-base stand, stands in front of me.

  The shock on his face must match the one on mine.

  8

  “Hi,” I eek out as a smile flirts on his lips.

  “I hoped I would see you around,” Landon says, looking around. He shoves his hands in his pockets and shifts back and forth on the balls of his feet.

  I tuck my hair behind my ear. “You remembered.”

  “Barely,” he says, looking at the ceiling and back at me. “I’ve been switching between multiple coffee shops that are connected to bookshops. I’ve been hanging out at City Lights too, just in case it was that one.”

  “Wow, you went all the way over there? Do you live around here?”

  Landon shakes his head. His lips rub together with a gleaming eye.

  There’s so much to say.

  “So, is this fate?” I ask. I honestly do not know how he will answer.

  “I don’t know,” Landon says. “I just know that I can’t stop thinking about you. I tried; I was skeptical. But from that first moment I saw you, something happened. It’s neve
r happened to me before.”

  He takes my hand in his and swings our closed fists between us, like we are crushes on the school playground. “I am so sorry I did not get your phone number.”

  “Why didn’t you?” I ask.

  “Let’s go sit over there,” he says with a point. We get out of line and walk to a crumb-covered black table in the corner. Landon wipes up the crumbs and throws them away like a gentleman.

  He sits down and clasps his hands together. “I was raised by a single mother. She claims my dad was the love of her life, and she met him one night. One night. He disappeared, and she was convinced my no-good dad was it. We wasted a lot of years trying to find him, just to find out he had a wife and children and didn’t care about us.

  “When I met you, I had no idea that could happen. That you could be that connected after one night. You were this lightning bolt that hit me when I least expected it. I don’t know what happened, but I knew. I knew, but I let you go.”

  He rubs his hair and locks eyes with me. “I’ve had girlfriends before. I always thought I had to build to some great relationship. It took work and sacrifice and time. Then, you came in, and I felt closer to you than I had ever felt to anyone. It threw me for a loop, you know.”

  I could cry right now. After all the men I’ve been with, men who weren’t sure about me when we were about to get married, and I sat with a man who was sure about me after less than twenty-four hours.

  “I remembered that you love coffee shops connected to bookstores. The freedom to get a coffee and then peruse without having to go outside. I needed to find you. I couldn’t find you on social media…”

  “I deleted Facebook, and my Instagram is super private. There is no way you could’ve found me,” I add.

  “Okay,” Landon says. He grabs my hands again, and his eyes are like a claw that grabs my heart. “I am so sorry I thought what we had was nothing. It was something. It was a lot more than something.”

  He whips out his phone and unlocks it. “Erin Blank Campbell, may I have your phone number?”

  “Yes,” I say. I recite it to him, and he texts me.

  There it is. Landon’s phone number. I hold my phone to my chest like it’s a treasure I thought long lost.