For the love of God, Tina. Think.
“It’s sort of a consciousness-raising project?” I said.
A little background: In college, like many freshmen venturing into the liberal arts for the first time, I was besotted by electives with titles like “Feminism and the Body,” “Passionate Politics: Emotions and Social Movements,” and “Gentrification and Its Discontents.” A girl I met in “Gender, Race, and Class,” who wore a leather corset as a shirt, convinced me to join the Women’s Center. (Technically, it was the Womyn’s Center, but let’s not even.) There, flannel-clad girls with names like Andy and Grover introduced me to private-school-tuition-worthy terms like hegemony, social constructionism, and consciousness raising. Finally, this hard-earned education was paying off.
“Consciousness raising about what?” Kevin asked.
Robert’s new set of golf clubs popped into my mind.
“Inequality, mostly,” I said, like a true expert on the subject.
Kevin stared at me for a moment and I could almost see the preconceived notions he had of me shifting around in his beautiful brain.
“You okay? You look a little confused.” I was mimicking the crack he’d made at me in front of the Titan building, but I don’t think he got it.
“I’m impressed,” he said. “What sort of inequality are you focusing on?”
“All kinds.” I stuffed my mouth full of french fries.
“Is it a nonprofit?”
“Yup. Exactly.”
“You’re really keeping this close to the vest, aren’t you?” He said it lovingly, or I would have struck back at him with my scorpion claw.
“It’s still in the early stages,” I said, after swallowing my fries. “I guess I just don’t want to jinx it.” Which made no sense at all, but Kevin, well-bred as he was, politely replied, “I get that. That makes total sense.”
Brought up by animals as I was, I lunged at the chance to impolitely change the subject. “So what was it like growing up in Massachusetts? I bet your parents are really proud of you. Being a lawyer is second only to being a doctor, right? And you don’t have to be around germs.”
“Massachusetts?” Kevin appeared perplexed. “I’m from DC.”
A piece of hamburger bun caught in my throat. “Sorry, I must be mixing you up with someone else.” Like the Kennedys.
He kindly ignored the grotesque choking sound that escaped from my mouth. “To be honest, my parents don’t love that I’ve chosen to work for the Titan Corporation, and I don’t either. I’d much rather move out of the corporate world and into public service—I’d love to work for a nonprofit. But I’d have to take a significant pay cut, and that’s not really an option right now.”
What was this? Was Kevin Handsome snowing me to make himself appear more human? My cell phone vibrated in my bag before I could decide.
It was Robert. “Barlow can’t find me anywhere,” I said, reading his text. “He’s not used to me leaving the building. I should get back.”
“Doesn’t someone cover for you when you’re out?” Kevin asked.
“An intern. But she’s not me.” I said this with the utmost pride, because when you’re the second-most-pecked chicken in the coop, you have to take pride where you can find it.
This was a common Barlowism, by the way, explaining social hierarchy and laws of dominance in terms of farm animals, namely fowl.
Kevin stood up and gathered our trash. “Maybe we can have dinner sometime.”
I wasn’t certain I’d heard him right. He’d been bending down to grab a napkin that had caught in the breeze, but just in case, I said, “Sure.”
Back at the office, it turned out all Robert needed was for me to remind him of the name of the restaurant “with the good view, on top of that hotel.”
It was Asiate, at the Mandarin Oriental, and he asked me this at least once a week. If only my useless fill-in (dumb as a prairie dog, Robert might say) could have gotten it together and remembered such critical information, I wouldn’t have had to cut short my lunch with Kevin. Fortunately, I’d brought my leftovers back to the office with me.
I reached into the now fully-greased-over paper bag for a cold french fry. It was just as well that lunch got abbreviated, I thought. It could have only gone downhill from there.
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