by Susannah Nix
“There’s always a reason if you invent one,” Jinny said, shaking her head.
“I don’t have to invent reasons. The reasons are just there.” It was called having standards, and there was nothing wrong with it. Esther refused to feel bad about it.
“You picked cheese over an attractive man who liked you.”
Esther broke off a piece of tostada chip and scooped up a big pile of cheese and sour cream. “My relationship with dairy is deeply fulfilling. You’re lactose intolerant. You can’t possibly understand.” She shoved the chip in her mouth and smiled happily.
“I’m not lactose intolerant, I just refuse to put up with lactose’s shit.” Jinny picked an olive out of her salad and popped it into her mouth. “When’s the last time you were in a relationship that lasted longer than a month?”
Esther swallowed. “High school.”
Jinny’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding?”
“There was a guy in college, but it was more like a friends with benefits arrangement.” She shrugged. “He wasn’t interested in being serious.”
“How long did it last?”
“Two semesters, give or take.”
“How’d it end?”
“He met a girl. They started dating.” It was the last time she’d actually felt invested in a relationship, and the memory of it was still a little tender. That was what trying to date a friend had gotten her.
Jinny leaned forward. “How did that make you feel?”
Esther scowled. “What are you, my therapist?”
“Answer the question, or I’ll be forced to treat the witness as hostile.”
“You watch too many Law and Order reruns.”
“Come on, fess up.”
“It hurt,” Esther admitted, casting her eyes down. “It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be in a relationship. He just didn’t want to be in one with me.” She squirmed in her seat, regretting that she’d started this conversation.
Jinny’s expression softened. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”
There was still a box of memorabilia devoted to him on the top shelf of Esther’s closet. Ticket stubs, Post-It notes, a paperback book he’d lent her. So yes, she’d really liked him.
She shrugged like it wasn’t that big a deal. “He was the only guy I’ve ever been friends with that I actually wanted to sleep with.”
“Did you ever tell him how you felt?”
No. That would have given him a chance to reject me.
“I didn’t want to scare him off,” Esther said, reaching for her iced tea. “We had a good thing going.” She’d been afraid to change the status quo. Part of her had always wondered whether they would have stayed together if she’d done things differently. Maybe he wouldn’t have moved on—or maybe he’d have broken things off even sooner. She’d never know.
“Until he found someone else.”
Esther swallowed a mouthful of tea. “Yeah.”
“That sucks. I’m sorry.” Jinny reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Now I’ve made you all sad.”
Esther shook her head. “It was four years ago. It’s not like I’m still hung up on him.”
“I’ll buy you a cupcake at knitting tonight to cheer you up.”
“Okay, but don’t say anything to the rest of them about any of this. I don’t want my love life dissected by the whole group.” Talking about it with Jinny had already exceeded her quota of sharing for the entire month.
“You know, talking about things can actually make you feel better sometimes.”
Esther broke off another piece of chip. “I talk about things. We’re talking right now.”
Jinny leaned forward, frowning slightly. “Do you think you have bad taste in men? Since you’re the one who asked the question in the first place.”
“I don’t know,” Esther said. “I never thought about it before.”
“What made you bring it up?”
She didn’t want to tell Jinny that she and Jonathan had been having a heart-to-heart about their love lives. Not after they’d just broken up. It felt disloyal. Esther reached for her iced tea again to cover her floundering. “Because of what you said about Stuart and Jonathan, I guess. It got me thinking about…things.”
Jinny nodded, stabbing at her taco salad. “You’ve met plenty of men—you’ve slept with even more than I have. But none of them are ever good enough to do more than just sleep with them. Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know,” Esther said.
Maybe she was broken inside. Maybe she just couldn’t love the way other people did.
Or maybe Jinny was right, and she was sabotaging herself. Because she was afraid. If you never let yourself care about people, it didn’t hurt as much when they didn’t care back.
It was easier to not want things, because then you couldn’t be disappointed when you didn’t get them.
When Esther got home from knitting that night, Jonathan was sitting outside her door, smoking a cigarette. She waved her hand to break up the cloud of smoke as she stepped over his legs.
He pushed himself to his feet and waved a handful of wrinkled papers at her. “I made some changes to the script and I want to know what you think.”
“Hello to you too,” Esther said as she shoved her key in the lock.
He dropped his cigarette and ground it out with his shoe. “I need to know if I’m on the right track before I do anything else.”
Esther glared at the cigarette butt. “You’re not going to leave that there, are you?”
He picked it up and gave her an imploring look. “Please?”
“Fine.” She held out her hand, and he passed her the script pages.
“Thank you.”
Instead of going away, he continued to stand there crowding her doorway as if he expected to follow her inside. He was so tall, her eyes only came up to his collarbone.
“You want me to read it right now?” she asked his collarbone.
He nodded. “If you have time.”
“Were you expecting to come in and watch me?”
“It’s only a few pages.”
“I can’t focus with you staring at me and being all twitchy.”
“I can go on the balcony.” His shoulders sagged. “Or wait out here, I guess.”
It was impossible to say no to him when he was being this pitiful. Esther sighed and let herself into her apartment, leaving the door open behind her. She wasn’t nearly as annoyed as she ought to be. Maybe he was growing on her.
He followed her inside and went into the kitchen to throw his cigarette butt away. Esther dropped her purse and knitting bag on the dining table, then gestured to the couch with the script pages she was holding. “Sit. I’ll go read it in the bedroom.” She arched a warning eyebrow at him. “Don’t touch anything while I’m gone.”
He gave her a military salute and a lopsided grin.
She went into the bedroom, shut the door, and flopped onto the bed. There were only a few pages, so it didn’t take her long to read them.
Shockingly, they were actually…almost good. It was only the first five pages, but it was already a huge improvement. He’d ditched the female lead’s purple hair and dumb vintage Volkswagen, and moved their encounter from the train station to the airport. The whole thing felt a lot more grounded in reality and less clichéd. There was still a long way to go, but it was definitely progress.
When she came back out of the bedroom, Sally was sitting in Jonathan’s lap getting scratched under the chin.
“I told you not to touch anything, and here you are caressing my cat.”
“It’s not my fault,” he said, still scratching Sally. “She put herself here and started head-butting my hand until I petted her.” He nodded at the pages she was holding, eyebrows raised. “Well?”
Esther smiled. “It’s good. I like it.”
He stopped petting Sally, looking surprised and also skeptical. “You do?” Sally head-butted him, but he ignored her.
&nb
sp; “I think you’re on the right track,” Esther said.
“Yeah?” His mouth curved into a tentative smile.
“Yeah,” she said. “Only…”
His face fell. “What?”
“That joke you added at the top of page two?”
He nodded. “You said it needed more humor.”
“Yeah, it still does.”
“You didn’t like it? I thought it was pretty good.”
“It’s bad,” Esther said. “Really terrible.”
He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Oh.”
“Overly complicated, difficult to parse, flaccid—”
“Okay.” He got to his feet, smiling as he snatched the pages out of her hand. “I get the picture. The joke is bad. Ditch the joke.”
“Weak,” she continued, having too much fun teasing him to stop. “Flabby, limp. Really not getting the job done at all.”
“But you liked the rest?”
“The rest is great. Really.” It felt good to be able to say something complimentary about his writing and actually mean it.
His whole face lit up, like she’d just told him he’d won the lottery, and something fluttered in Esther’s stomach. He was shockingly handsome when he smiled like that. Too bad he didn’t do it more often.
“All right,” he said, waving the script pages at her as he headed for the door. “Thanks.”
“You keep working on those jokes, friend. One day you’ll be funny.”
He raised his middle finger at her, grinning as he let himself out.
“I believe in you!” she shouted as the door slammed behind him.
Chapter Twelve
Thursday was Esther’s performance review at work—her first review with her new manager, Diane.
Esther wasn’t worried about it. She was good at her job. She always got her work done under deadline and made fewer errors than most of the other design engineers.
“Have a seat,” Diane said when Esther showed up at her appointed time. Diane had an office to herself, because her job involved interviewing new hires and doing performance and disciplinary reviews. Also firing people. It didn’t seem like a fun job, even if she did get her own office with a door and a window.
“How’s your week been going?” Diane asked, lacing her fingers together on top of her desk and smiling. She was in her forties, but she looked much older. Everything about her was dowdy: her hair, her clothes, her glasses, even her smile. She reminded Esther of her fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Kopecki, who had been in her seventies.
“Good.” Esther shifted in her seat and tugged her skirt down over her knees. Even though she wasn’t worried about her review, it felt a little like being called to the principal’s office.
“Glad to hear it.” Diane’s smile got wider. “Shall we get this over with?”
Esther nodded. “Sure.”
Diane looked down at her desk and shuffled some papers. When she looked up again, she wasn’t smiling as much. “I’d like you to know you’re one of the most promising engineers we have. You’re technically brilliant, and your ability to quickly find innovative, efficient solutions to engineering problems is second to none.”
So far, it was all good. But something about the way she said it made Esther feel like there was a “but” hanging out there.
“However…”
And there it was.
“At times you can come on a little too strong, or give the impression that you’re impatient or disdainful of your peers and their abilities.”
Esther’s mouth opened, but all that came out was, “Oh.”
Diane paused, tilting her head to meet Esther’s eye. “You’re one of the best engineers on your team, Esther. Which means that most of your coworkers won’t be as good as you at what they do. But everyone here has a contribution to make, and you need to be able to work cooperatively—with everyone.”
Esther nodded, feeling numb. This wasn’t at all how she’d thought this would go. Her last review had been stellar. Her old manager hadn’t had any criticism for her at all. They’d spent the whole time talking about what kind of project she’d like to move to next, and the path to becoming a subject matter expert, and what kind of technical areas she might be interested pursuing.
It hadn’t gone anything like this.
“It might be helpful to remember this is a team,” Diane continued, “and not a collection of individual heroes. In order for your own work to be effective, you’ll need to be able to work with your peers and superiors in a smooth, efficient manner.”
The urge to argue was almost overwhelming, but Esther knew arguing in your performance review wasn’t a good look. She clamped down on her tongue and nodded again.
Diane leaned back in her chair. Her lipstick was uneven, and Esther couldn’t stop staring at it. “Perhaps once you’ve amassed more capital in terms of seniority and successful projects delivered, you’ll be able to push everyone else harder, and they’ll feel bound to keep up. But for now, you need to adjust your approach.” Diane smiled at her. “Think of it as another engineering problem to solve.”
“Do people not like me?” Esther asked. Because that’s what it sounded like she was saying.
“I wouldn’t say that at all. Some of them just find you a little…aggressive.”
“Aggressive?” Esther repeated. She couldn’t believe she’d just been called “aggressive” in a performance review. By a woman, no less. Was Angelica Sauer too aggressive? Wasn’t that how she’d succeeded in business? By suffering no fools and taking no shit? Esther wondered what their CEO would do anyone who dared to complain she was too aggressive.
“Perhaps aggressive isn’t the best word,” Diane said, backtracking. “Let’s just say you can be a little too blunt sometimes.”
“You mean honest?”
Diane’s smile tightened. “No one likes to be told they’re wrong. If you’re trying to win someone over to your point of view, it can be more helpful to take a diplomatic tack. Soften the blow a little.”
Esther stared down at her hands, which were clenched in her lap. “I see,” she said, choking back the urge to defend herself. To point out how sexist it was to criticize her for being too aggressive when she knew damn well a man would be praised and rewarded for the exact same behavior. But all that would do was prove Diane’s point, that Esther was too aggressive.
“Esther, you’re someone who has a lot to offer,” Diane said kindly, “not just the company, but also your peers, as a mentor and example of what a good engineer looks like. If you can moderate your approach to your coworkers, I think you’ll find they begin taking your advice more and coming to you for guidance, which is how you advance from baby engineer to senior engineer—maybe even an SME one day.”
Maybe she’d get to be a subject matter expert? Her last manager had acted like it was a given. He’d told her to keep doing what she was doing and she would be able to choose her own path. Now Diane was making it sound like she needed to shape up and fly right or she wouldn’t advance at all.
Esther ground her teeth, smiling and nodding her way through the rest of the conversation, trying to be pleasant and act like she was taking the feedback to heart. But she left Diane’s office fuming.
Aggressive. She’d actually had the nerve to call Esther aggressive. Would a man ever be called aggressive? No, because in men it was seen as a desirable trait. A man would be told he was assertive, that he’d displayed leadership skills. Only in a woman would it be considered a negative. Because women were expected to be meek and subservient. Passive. Agreeable.
Fuck that.
Fuck that and fuck Diane. And fuck everyone who’d told Diane that Esther was too blunt. She didn’t need to soften her approach, they needed to do their damn jobs better. She refused to adapt to incompetence because some men might get their fee-fees hurt.
Fuck all of them. And fuck this place.
“How’d it go?” Yemi asked when Esther got back to her desk.
“Pie
ce of cake,” she told him, forcing a smile. She didn’t want to talk about it. If she talked about it, she’d get even more angry than she already was.
She sat down in front of her computer, put her headphones on, and kept them on for the rest of the day.
Esther was still in a royally crappy mood when she got into her car to drive home at five o’clock. Then she remembered she had to go the grocery store, and her mood got even worse.
She hated grocery shopping, but she hated doing it after work worst of all. Everyone else in LA was at the grocery store after work too. Which meant the parking lot was a madhouse, the aisles were crowded with tired, cranky people, and the checkout lines were interminable. There were never enough checkers, and she always ended up trapped in the self-checkout lane behind the person who had to turn every single item over four times before they found the bar code, and then had to pass it over the scanner three times before it registered.
It was almost seven o’clock by the time Esther pulled into her parking space at home, still fuming about the inefficiency of the modern grocery store. She turned off the engine, shoved open her door, and almost had a heart attack when Jonathan popped up in front of the car.
“Jesus.” She laid her hand on her chest. “Are you stalking me now?”
“No, I was in the courtyard and I heard you pull in.”
She slammed her car door and went around to the back to get her groceries. When she opened the hatchback, he leaned in and grabbed half her grocery bags for her.
“Thanks,” Esther muttered as she locked the car.
He tipped his head, smiling. “I aim to serve.”
As she followed him up the stairs, she noticed a roll of papers stuck into the back pocket of his jeans that looked suspiciously like script pages. That explained his sudden appearance. He’d been waiting in the courtyard for her to get home. The floor outside her door must have gotten uncomfortable.
He waited for her to unlock her apartment and followed her inside, setting his grocery bags on the counter next to hers.
“You know, you could just text me,” she said as she jerked open the fridge. “To find out when I’m going to be home.”
