Page 81 of The Bright Side of Brooding
My heart sank. “This was the project I was hoping would help with that.”
That smile turned down in a kind of regretful smile-frown. “I’m not sure it does that. And that’s okay. But you’ll want to think about highlighting managing and delegating to other people, not just resourcing and planning.”
A wave of embarrassment crashed over me. “Of course. Yes. I have one other idea I’ve been considering, and I can bring that forward. I—I’ll find a way to show I can manage people.”
“It’s not all or nothing, of course. And nothing outside of work is actually going to demonstrate you can do this job. So in some ways, you can’t show you do the job until you do it, but we want you to show youcando it before you’re hired. It’s tricky, but you’re a strong candidate. I can’t speak to the other applicants, but it isn’t a large pool. The job will close in a week, and then we’ll begin scheduling interviews.”
I swallowed and nodded. “Thank you for the information.”
I slipped into the bathrooms, locked a stall, and covered my face with my hands.
Why had I thought this canned food drive would show them my managerial skills? I’d been so caught up in the logistics, thinking that’d show my ability to manage, I’d completely lost the thread of managingpeople. And what that translated to was not me strong-arming an event into place, but learning to delegate. Learning to be a part of a team, but as the person driving it. Accepting their efforts, counting on their help.
I breathed in slowly through my nose, staying the tears threatening.
You will not cry about this right now, at work, when you still have a half hour before the day ends.
* * *
I cried long and hard when I got home, all the pent-up emotion from everything, particularly my stupidity, crashing down at once. The memories of my family guaranteeing I’d fail if I left, promising I’d be back, pressed in close all the while.
Nick messaged to ask when he could come over, and that sent a new wave of frustration.
Me:“I never asked you to incentivize the food drive.”
Nick:“I thought it’d be a good way to encourage the soldiers to donate. Wolfe and Allen were on board.”
Me: “I don’t appreciate you doing that without talking to me.”
It took him several minutes to respond.
Nick:“Can I come over? Just for a minute.”
I hesitated. I wanted to see him. So, so much. But I couldn’t sort through this with him here. Before I responded, he called. I answered without a chance to think better of it.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve talked to you.”
“It’s okay,” I grated out.
The apology gave me no satisfaction. What I wanted was him. Here. In front of me. Telling me I wasn’t a prize dunce for getting so off-track with the whole thing. I wanted to see him and know I didn’t need him, that I just wanted him.
But the aching, ragingneedrose in me and begged me ask him to come over. And all of that, all the twisted-up feelings of the day, paired with that cold, stark need, had me clenching my jaw against any such confession.
“Can I come hug you goodbye?”
His voice came out low and sweet and stabbed me right in the heart.Yes. Yes. Come hold me. Hug me. Stay.
An ugly sob burst out of me, but I slapped a hand over my mouth. I cleared my throat, sucked in a breath. “I’m worn out. Today was tough.”
“Are you okay?”
“I—” I loosed a sharp exhale and hardened my resolve. “I’m fine.”
“Summer, you have to talk to me. How can we do this, if we don’t talk to each other?”
“Do what?”
“Be in a relationship. Care for each other.”
