Page 2 of Don't Leave Me

I shrugged, still a little thrown off by his question. In our sporadic one-on-one meetings, he usually just asked us writers what we were working on and then dismissed me.

“I’m fine, I guess,” I answered honestly.

“Okay,” he nodded. “You just seem…a bit distracted today,” he went, seeming to observe me a little.

I felt like crying. I shrugged again and faked a smile. “I’m fine. Just a little tired is all,” I answered.

He continued to nod and observe me. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go home and get some rest,” he stood up and started to walk behind his desk.

I didn’t know how to respond. I must have looked really out of whack for him to let me take the day off.

“I can stay,” I shrugged, my voice sounding so small.

Michael looked up at me with his intense gaze as he looked through some papers on his desk, still standing.

“I insist, Hana. You’ve been staring at your laptop screen for the past hour,” he said sternly.

Fuck. Is he mad? I look like a complete idiot. He’s mad. Fuck.

“I’m sorry, sir – I just…” I started to make up an excuse for my total lack of concentration.

He sat down and looked a bit less mad.Why did I just call him sir? That sounded so stupid.

“Hana,” he smiled, a total 180. “You are the hardest working, most dedicated and talented writer I have on my staff. You’ve been working like mad the past few weeks. I think you’re warranted for one day off,” he explained.

I felt a flood of relief and sighed. “Okay,” I nodded, starting to get up. “Thank you, Michael.”

“What happened to sir? I quite liked that touch,” he smiled, his dry sense of humor showing.

I smiled and felt embarrassed immediately. I glanced at him as he looked amused with himself, leaning back in his chair and watching me.

“Thank you,sir,” I answered back with a crooked smile, emphasizing the last word.

“See you tomorrow, Hana,” I heard him say as I walked out of his office and closed the door behind me.

I quickly packed up my work and got out of there as fast as I could, thinking Michael was just playing some kind of joke on me. I’d never heard of him letting anyone get off work early – so what exactly was so special about me? Was I really his best writer, or was he just being nice?No, Michael isn’t just nice for the hell of it. Is he?

I worked in the Financial District in lower Manhattan, and with my newfound free time, I decided to take the train to the LES where Billie worked as a gallery attendant. She often complained that not enough people came into the gallery, so I figured it would be a nice surprise.

“Han! What are you doing here?” Billie exclaimed when I walked in, her big brown eyes wide and her smile wider, the gallery empty.

I loved the fact that she could get so excited about the little things.

“Michael let me off early. He was surprisingly very nice today,” I said with furrowed brows, setting my purse down beside the reception counter.

Billie shook her head and leaned on the counter. “I’m telling you, by the way you describe your little encounters with him, this Michael fellow likes you,” she smiled cleverly.

I scoffed immediately and laughed. “You don’t understand, Billie. This man is beautiful; he could have any woman he wanted. He does not like me,” I said matter-of-factly.

Billie rolled her eyes at me and smiled. “I wish you would stop saying that. You’re fucking stunning, Hana. You could have any man you wanted!” she exclaimed.

I never had the highest self-esteem (except when I was hypomanic – which I truly appreciated) so I took every compliment that Billie, or anyone else, gave me with a grain of salt. I felt average – a little too plain Jane; I had long dirty blonde hair that never listened to me, green eyes, and a smile that was too big. I was slender, wishing I could be curvier, and slightly tall at 5’7” so I had always felt a little awkward about that. The only thing that I truly loved were my cheekbones – I was blessed with some fabulous cheekbones from both of my parents.

“Alright well,” I sighed, changing the subject. “Where are we going for dinner?”

Billie and I went to a vegan restaurant a few blocks from her work and afterwards I opted on going home instead of going out with Billie and her new boyfriend and his friends – I was ordered to rest, and I really did want to. I took the L train to Brooklyn, walked home in the icy cold November evening, and listened to Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” album on repeat in the dark until I finally - and surprisingly - fell asleep.

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