Sometime Soon

twelve



“Running late this morning,” Joan says as I buzz past her. Staying up late to watch a movie means I practically needed a crowbar to pry me out of bed this morning. I also have a strange looking red mark with uneven edges in the middle of my forehead. I’m guessing it’s a spot I missed with the sun block yesterday, and it stings like crazy this morning. How did I miss the middle of my forehead? Now, every time I wrinkle it, which I’ve discovered I do with surprising frequency, I have a physical reminder of my day with Ryan.

Nate is back from paternity leave. When I arrive, he’s already sitting at his desk across from mine. I drop my purse and laptop bag in a heap by my chair. “Hey,” I say by way of a greeting.

“Hey, yourself.” He’s dressed in his usual uniform of khaki shorts, Birkenstocks, and a T-shirt with an interesting saying. Today it reads, Support human cloning. Two heads are better than one. He says he gets them from an uncle who owns a T-shirt shop near the beach on Cape Cod.

“How was the rest of your vacation?” I ask.

“This is my vacation.” He smirks, reclining in his chair.

I wrinkle my brow in confusion, wincing as it pinches me.

“What’s on your forehead?” he asks, squinting at it.

“Missed a spot with the sun block.”

This seems to amuse him.

“What do you mean your vacation starts now?” I ask.

“If you were a parent, you’d understand.” He glances around and smiles. “I never realized how peaceful and quiet it is here.”

“You’ve only been a parent for two weeks.”

“Exactly.” He nods solemnly. “So, have you heard anything more on the buyout?” he asks, running a hand through his thinning auburn hair.

I relate to him what Karthik told me about the halting of future project work. This disturbs Nate, just as it did me when I first heard it. Now though, I’m pretty well resigned to finding a new job.

“I need to talk to Rob about this,” he comments.

“We could approach him together,” I suggest. “Kill two Rob conversations with one stone.”

He agrees. I do not tell him that I’ve sent my resumé to a recruiter and that the recruiter, Maryanne, a very nice woman I have worked with in the past, has already left me a message this morning asking me to call her. Nate is my friend, but he is also an employee of a company I may decide to leave. Telling anyone of my plans would not be wise.

Nate volunteers to do reconnaissance on Rob’s office. Peering down the hallway, he sees that the office light is on, and he motions for me to follow him.

Nate dwarfs me in the open office doorway where we pause, waiting to be noticed by Rob who is busily banging away on his keyboard. I see that he’s wearing a neatly pressed blue dress shirt this morning, which is unusual for him. Nate discreetly clears his throat, and Rob’s fingers stop as he turns toward us.

“Uh oh,” Rob says, narrowing his eyes at us. “This looks like trouble.” Then he grins.

Since I’m the one with the information, I step into the office first. “Can we talk to you for a minute?”

He checks his watch. “That’s about all the time I have before my next meeting. What’s up?”

Nate remains behind me in the doorway as I explain for the second time today what Karthik told me. When I finish, Rob presses his lips together in a straight line, stands up, and snaps his laptop shut. This is when I notice that his usual ill-fitting jeans are gone, and ill-fitting khaki slacks are in their place. He is uncharacteristically dressed up today.

“I haven’t heard that all future project work is cancelled... exactly,” he begins, seeming to choose his words carefully. “My understanding is that it’s simply up in the air while they decide how they want to proceed. They’re going to merge groups and shift some project work around. That’s what I know at this point. But still, nothing is set in stone.”

“What does ‘shifting projects around’ mean?” Nate asks, obviously concerned.

Rob shrugs. “Not sure yet. Believe me, if I knew anything that affected you two I would tell you. For now, there’s certainly plenty of work that needs doing. Speaking of which, I’ve got to have those white papers this week, Andrea.”

“You’ll have them,” I say.

“Good. I’ve got to run. How’s the baby?” he asks Nate. Then he listens with half an ear to Nate’s reply before swiftly moving past us and heading down the hall.

This is bad, I think, as I walk back to my desk. Rob feels the need to dress to impress, and he hasn’t once mentioned The Bachelor or joked around with us today. Granted, he was in a rush, but Rob is hardly ever completely serious about anything.

“Well, that wasn’t exactly the ‘Don’t worry everything is going to be fine’ I was looking for,” Nate declares, setting himself down dejectedly in his chair.

His naïveté suddenly bothers me.

“I’ve been here for nearly four years working my butt off,” he adds.

I eye him skeptically.

He gives me a half smile. “Well, most of the time anyway. Do you think they’re going to lay us off?”

I feel the need to feed him a dose of reality. “Nate, everyone thinks they work hard and therefore deserve something in return. But come on. You’ve worked in the corporate world long enough to realize that expecting anything other than your paycheck is probably expecting too much.”

He seems offended at this. “That’s very cynical.”

“It is what it is,” I reply with a shrug.



For the rest of the day, Nate alternates between moping and yawning. At lunchtime, I head outside with my cell phone to call back the recruiter. It’s another stiflingly hot day, and I try to locate a bench outside our office building that’s shielded from the sun and the street noise. Once I get her on the phone, we talk about my salary and distance requirements. I do not want to spend hours each day in my car. Despite the terrible economy, Maryanne seems optimistic that she can get me some interviews soon.

When I go back inside, I finish the last of the white papers for which I actually have technical information, and I email them to Rob. He has to approve them and post them on the internal web site so that the sales people can grab them.

I find myself checking my cell phone throughout the day. Since Ryan has previously called me during the work day, I think that he might have tried reaching me today. But he hasn’t. Instead, Laura calls at the end of the day as I’m packing up to go home.

“I need a big favor,” she begins.

“You never say hello to me when I answer. You always just jump right in,” I complain.

“Hello, Andrea,” she says formally.

“Hello, Laura. How are you?”

“Terrible. That’s why I need a favor.”

I smile at my cell phone. “Okay, what is it?”

“I need you to go see a band with Mom and Dad on Thursday night.”

“You mean one of the bands you’re checking out for the wedding?”

“Yes. I can’t make it, and it’s the only time we can see them play in the next few months. I need you to be my ears for me. I don’t trust Mom and Dad when it comes to the music. They would resurrect Lawrence Welk if they could.”

She’s probably right about that. “Why can’t you go?”

“I have a late afternoon closing in the Berkshires. I’ll never make it back in time.”

“The Berkshires? Since when do you drive hours to closings?”

“It’s for Jonathan’s great aunt. She bought a place near Tanglewood with some friends. He asked me to do it as a favor.”

“That’s some favor.”

“I know.”

“Why doesn’t Jonathan go? He must care about the music.”

“Andy, they’re wedding bands. If our choices were Stone Sour or Godsmack, he’d be there like a shot. But our choices are Starry Night or J.B. And The Enthusiasts.”

“Who?”

“Exactly. Can you help me out here?”

“Okay, I’ll go. Oh, wait. I can’t. I think I have a date.”

“You do? Did that Jason guy call you?”

“He did, but it’s not with him. It’s with Ryan. The guy that hit me with his car.”

“The one you went to the beach with?”

“Yeah, but maybe I can change the day. I’ll ask him when he calls and let you know.”

“Thanks. That would be great. But don’t cancel or anything for me.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

“You’re not looking for an excuse to cancel? You must like him then.”

“Maybe. We’ll see.”



By Wednesday afternoon, I’m weighing the rudeness of Ryan not having called yet, despite our imminent Thursday plans. I feel sure that I’ll hear from him tonight, but in my opinion, he really should have called earlier in the week to finalize our plans. Calling him is not an option. He said he would call, and he should do as he says.

By nine that evening I still haven’t heard from Ryan, and I find myself calling my parents to see what time they want to meet on Thursday to see the wedding band. I actually feel foolish for having expected Ryan to call just because he said he would. I let my guard down. I always maintain a healthy skepticism when the words “I’ll call you” spill out of a guy’s mouth, and this time should not have been any different. Perhaps something unexpected came up and he’s no longer free? Even so, he should have called to let me know.

I mope around for the rest of the night. In addition to feeling disappointed for myself, I continue to mull over Katie’s situation. I haven’t heard from Bryn, and I’m debating contacting her. She hasn’t done anything directly to me. If I were being a good friend, I would check up on her, right? I sigh with frustration. Maybe I’m just too judgmental. Can I really hold a grudge against everyone whom I judge to be inconsiderate? If so, I’ll have no one left.

I’ve spoken with Katie every day this week. Her first obstetrician appointment is tomorrow, and she still hasn’t confronted Mike about Bryn, nor has she told him about the baby. Instead, she has started spying on him: checking his outgoing and incoming cell phone calls, reading his texts, showing up at his office unannounced, and making references to Bryn to gauge his reactions. All to no avail. I am strongly advising against this plan. “Just talk to him,” I tell her repeatedly. But she continues to put it off. She thinks that once everything is out in the open, her relationship with Mike will change irrevocably, and not for the better. Of course, I can’t claim to understand men at all. So, any advice I could offer isn’t worth much.