Page 78 of An American in London

My brain feels empty, like I don’t know how I’m feeling or what I’m thinking. I’ve been waiting for months to hear those words from Mr. Jenkins. I should feel elated. It was what I’d dreamed of when I checked in at the Daniel De Luca hotel all those weeks ago. It was the entire reason for being in London.

Having a job means my career up to this point hasn’t been a waste of time. It means I can build forward from now on. It’s the bit of good news I needed so badly.

I jump at the sound of Mr. Jenkins’s office door opening again. He leans out. “Take the rest of the day off, Tuesday. You earned it.” Then before I can protest, he goes back inside and closes the door.

“Take the day off?” I ask.

Gail narrows her eyes, like she wants to ask me a question.

“He’s joking, though, right?”

“I’ve only seen him do it once before,” Gail says. “To me, actually. I ignored him, and he was furious when he found me still at my desk. If I were you, I’d get out of here.”

This day is turning into one of the most surreal I’ve had since landing in London. And that’s saying something, given the things that have happened to me on this trip.

That was it? Health check complete. Career salvaged. Half a day off.

Then back to New York? Or Brooklyn.

And then what?

“Can I make an observation, Tuesday?” Gail asks as I slip my half-eaten croissant left over from breakfast into my bag.

If Ben was here, he’d say Gail shouldn’t ask if she should make an observation, she should just do so. I smile to myself, despite my insides feeling like wet sand. “Of course you can.”

“You’ve worked really hard while you’ve been here,” she says.

I check my bag for my headphones and wallet. “Thanks.”

“I started off in client relations,” she says, and I snap my head up to meet her gaze. She shrugs. “I liked it well enough, but I didn’t love it. I always knew I wanted tolovemy job.”

I nod, encouraging her to go on. She’s clearly got more to say.

“And then James’s secretary left to get married; that’s what a lot of women did in those days. They asked me to step in—again, it would never happen now. I was lucky, because I lovethisjob. I can see the impact I’m having on James every day. I lighten his load, keep unnecessary nonsense from crossing his desk, make sure he doesn’t spendtime doing things he shouldn’t. I get a real kick out of seeing the fruits of my labor.”

“I can see that,” I reply. “You run his office with extreme efficiency.”

She gives me a confident smile. “I know. I just wonder if you think you’ll get a real kick out of the management fast track.”

I glance at James’s office door. I would hate for him to hear our conversation.

“You don’t need to worry about James. I swear, I could be out here naked with a baby gorilla on my desk and he’d never notice.”

I briefly close my eyes, wanting to unsee the image that just popped into my brain.

“I’ve only ever worked at the bank,” I say. “I’ve been wanting onto this fast-track program for the last five years. The pay is good and the people I work with are smart and savvy. And the bank’s reputation is excellent ...” I trail off as I remember my conversation with Ben. The job with the bank wasn’t anything I was looking for when I was in college. “I don’t hate it,” I conclude lamely.

Gail nods. “It’s different as you get older, if you have kids and a mortgage to make. This is the time to strive to do something you love. Not that youdon’t hate.”

“You’re saying I should give up all the work I’ve put in at the bank?”

“Life is long, Tuesday. Do you want to be in a job youdon’t hatefor the next forty years, when there’s something out there that will make your heart sing? Now’s not the time to settle.”

It sounds like the exact thing my mom would say to me if she were here now. She’d be able to see that although getting on the fast track is important, it’s not because I love my job. It’s because I’ve never thought about what the alternative might be. My life has been packaged in a neat box and fixed with a bow since she died; I wanted it that way. It was safe and not sad. Butnot sadisn’t enough anymore. The box is too small and the ribbon is untied. I just don’t know what’s next.

I’ve never been to the coffee shop at this time of day. Even though Mr. Jenkins told me to take the rest of the day off, it feels like I’m playing hooky. It’s busier than it is in the mornings. It seems the entire population of London wants coffee today.

Except Ben.

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