Again, But Better

20. Waves Come After Midnight
Thursday morning I get up early and stop to buy bagels for the office so I
have an excuse to talk to Wendy. Since I was late that first day, I guess
Tracey didn’t have time to give me the tour, which is fine because I know the
office, but I really should have talked to Wendy. I was just feeling so gross
and unpresentable that day, I put it off.
Once I get to the office, I greet Tracey, and head straight for Wendy’s
door. It’s open. I peek in—she’s wearing a tight red business dress and a
black blazer, typing on her computer. I knock carefully on the doorframe.
She looks up and smiles. “Hi.”
“Hi, Wendy! Good morning!” I smile back. “I just wanted to introduce
myself again—I’m Shane—and say how happy I am to be working here.
Thanks for having me. This company’s amazing, and I’m looking forward to
learning more from you and everyone, and hopefully writing that study
abroad piece for the site. I brought bagels for the office!” I hold up the bag
enthusiastically.
“Shane, that’s sweet of you. Thank you for the bagels! You can set them
up in the kitchen. There’s so much to learn in this office. I hope you really
enjoy your time here.” She pauses, pressing her lips together. “Just to be
completely straightforward, as far as writing a piece, that was actually still up
in the air. I’ve rethought it a little bit. It’s a big responsibility, so I’m not sure
it’s on the table anymore.”
It’s as if she pulled the ground out from under my feet. I take a step back
to steady myself.
“Oh, Wendy, um, I’m up for the responsibility…”
She folds her hands atop her sleek clear desk. “Do you have any travel-
related writing pieces I can look at?”
“I…”
I think back to the rambly post I wrote up about take two of Rome. It
doesn’t have any focus. That’s not good enough. I started another post, but
never finished. I haven’t posted anything since Rome. I never finished that
first post about the initial differences I noticed between New York and
London. 
Oh god.

---

“Um … no,” I finish quietly. I startle as the phone on Wendy’s desk rings.
“I’m sorry, sweetie, I have to take this. Have a good day! Thanks again
for the bagels!”
I plod across the floor to the office kitchen and methodically arrange the
bagels on a plate. My limbs feel heavy, like I’m wading through the ocean.
The article is off the table?
I fall into my seat. 
How … but why?
I need that article. How could she
just take it away? Why don’t I have posts ready to show her?
The table vibrates slightly. I glance at my cell.
Pilot: 
I just heard someone use the word ravish at work. Can I pull
off the word ravish? Or is it like knackered?
=
P
I drop the phone in my purse and zip it away. Tracey doesn’t give me a
task until 2:30. She hands me a bag of mail to drop off and tells me I can
leave for the day. I feel like a popped balloon as I trudge down the road to the
Tube station. I check my texts.
Pilot: 
Is everything okay?
Pilot: 
I’m back early today, so find me when you get home!
Pilot: 
I hope everything’s okay.
I drop it back into my purse.
On the train, I shove in earbuds and close my eyes. 
Now I get to go home
and pack for Edinburgh. We leave tomorrow at twelve. Pilot’s out early
today. We can go get shawarma when I get back.
I walk home to the Karlston on autopilot. The conversation I had with
Wendy won’t stop rewinding and playing back in excruciatingly slow motion
across my brain. I’m tromping numbly down the basement steps when I catch
sight of a dark-haired girl in a tan leather jacket, standing where my carry-on
landed when I dropped it my first day here. She’s fiddling with an iPhone,
and there’s a suitcase by her feet. Is she lost? I pull out my earbuds and take
another step down. She spins to look up at me.
I freeze like a deer in the headlights, eight steps from the ground. My
heart falls out of my chest and smashes right through the staircase under my
feet.
The girl eyes me hesitantly.