“Tell me what your vocational journey has been like thus far.”
“Before I got married I worked as a speech pathologist at the hospital, in various departments. Once I got married, I quit my job. Now here we are and I can’t seem to get back in the field. I tried to find some work on my own for months, had some interviews, but things didn’t pan out. Not only that, I feel rusty, like I don’t know what’s going on or what to do. That’s why I’m here; not because I don’t want to work, but I can’t seem to catch a break. I refuse to ask my family for help. Maybe it’s pride, I don’t know, but I have always done things on my own and will continue to do so. All I need is a chance.” She looked down at her purse, then back into his eyes. The man stared back at her, as if sizing her up. As if awaking from a daydream, his eyes suddenly grew larger and he shook his head before turning back abruptly towards the computer screen. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” He grinned as he began to type. “Sorry, just a bit tired. I heard everything you said and thank you for being so open and honest about it.”
“Of course. You can’t help me if I lie to you.”
He stopped typing and gave her a kind smile. “Okay, let’s see what we can do.”
He went back to work and she tried to relax, but it proved damn near impossible. After about a minute or so, he turned back towards her full of sudden cheer, as if he’d just gotten the best news ever. She could not help but notice the full details of his face. He was absolutely gorgeous… His eyes were heavily hooded and the eyebrows thick and rather low, as if he had a natural pensive expression. His nose reminded her of one of the Ancient Greek statues, the bridge long, straight, and the nostrils slightly flared. His lower lip was fuller then the top one, but both appeared soft with a healthy pinkish hue. What a striking man, above average in the looks department, to say the least, and his voice was so relaxing, even soothing. Despite it all, she believed the man when he’d declared he was tired. The dark circles under his eyes indicated he hadn’t gotten a second of sleep for at least a couple of days.
She wondered what troubled him so…
“What I want to do, since you have an advanced degree and some impressive work experience, is to take a look at the hospital listings and therapy institutions around the city. I know you already filled out the paperwork, but to save me time having to rifle through for the answer to the question, do you have reliable transportation?”
“Yes, I do. I also just moved to the area by the way, but I am learning my way around.”
“Oh, you’re not originally from Seattle?” He looked at her in confusion, then glanced back over at the computer.
“No, I mean, yes. I am from Seattle, just not the Eastside of Mercer Island. I actually grew up in Clyde Hill.” His expression said it all. The man looked at her blankly, but behind the vacant stare she caught the shock, but he hid it well. Clyde Hill was one of the most affluent areas of the city. Million-dollar homes, enclosed swimming pools, country clubs, and some of the best schools in the entire state. Mercer Island was also known to be prosperous, especially with its waterfront homes and condos with amazing city views, but there was a bit more affordability with a prevalent working class. The have and have nots could not be so easily distinguished.
“I know that, uh, you’re not the one being interviewed, but did you grow up in Mercer Island?” she questioned.
He clasped his hands and looked at her, his expression rather serious as if he were mulling over the appropriate thing to say. With a sigh, he spun around in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Up until age twelve I lived in Mercer Island. Then, some things changed. My mother, brother, and I ended up having to move to Roxhill.” Now, it was her turn to offer the stone-faced expression. Roxhill was one of the worst neighborhoods in Seattle. Filled with rampant crime and high unemployment, she’d heard all about the area on the evening news. “So, I moved back here to Mercer Island after I finished college.” He sighed and tossed up his hands. “Please understand that I know all about having, then losing, then trying to crawl back out of that hole.”
She looked into his eyes and grabbed the edge of her purse, turning and twisting the beaten camel colored leather. She recognized struggle in his eyes. Perhaps he wasn’t tired; maybe this was just his regular state and being exhausted was his ‘normal’.
“All right.” He resumed typing. “So, you’ve got some options here and that’s great. I am going to contact some companies on your behalf, provide your resume and try to get you scheduled for an interview soon. Is all of your contact information up to date?”
“Yes, my numbers, address, everything.”
“Great. Look, I know it’s scary, all right? This is all brand new. You’ve been through some things that have forced you to start fresh. But a career that not only pays your bills but one you find enjoyable is going to open more doors for you and relieve some burdens from your shoulders. Together we’ll come up with something. Just follow my lead. I’m good at this, trust me.” Throwing her a wink, he went back to typing.
Opening her purse, she pulled out a tissue and dabbed at the corner of her eye. She hated herself for becoming emotional, but being forced to go there… to delve into why she’d landed in his office in the first place overwhelmed her.
“Some said that this is what I get.” She couldn’t stop her voice from trembling.
He immediately stopped typing and looked at her, seemingly taken aback by her reaction. Getting to his feet, he rounded the desk and offered her a fresh tissue from the box on his desk. She nodded in gratitude, accepted it and blew her nose. Instead of returning to his chair, he sat on the edge of his desk, looking down at her—but managing to look inside her, too. His eyes were so beautiful… so clear and full of hope. Like a green ocean in Ireland.
“You don’t deserve this. I don’t even know you, but I know that much is true. The heck with what other people think, okay? If I lived my life based on other people’s thoughts of me, I’d never even get up in the morning.” He chuckled, causing her to smile. “You’re not a victim, you’re a survivor. You kept getting up and taking on the day. That has to account for something.” His words were kind and warm, soothing like a soul elixir.
The man crossed his arms and gave her room to just breathe. How kind he was. “You would think that it would in fact count for something but I think some people believe I’ve never suffered, that everything is easy for me. See, I was raised in a very well-off family. It was me and my two sisters. I married for love, Mr. Summers, not money. My parents are good people, but they disapproved of who I was marrying. I was blinded by love and I wouldn’t listen.”