Page 18 of Don't Remind Me
And while Ardena’s mention in the article hadn’t been flattering, it was far from the defamatory ire the reporter had spat about HBC, much of which—as HBC’s spokesperson—had fallen directly on me.
Maybe the reporter felt I humiliated him at the interview. If the “fucking bitch” he’d ground out as he leftwas anything to go on, he didn’t appreciate being challenged by a woman. One younger than him, no less.
Or maybe he really did believe abortion was this evil, hate-fueled thing and I was the epitome of immorality for defending it. Whatever the reason, he hadn’t held back, making me as much the villain of his story as HBC. A story that conveniently brushed over every other goal, service, and mission the clinic aimed to provide.
When Jillian had called her contact at the website to demand an explanation, she was told the original reporter set to do the interview had gone into labor and was out on maternity leave, and Mr. Sewick had volunteered to fill in. Apparently, it hadn’t been the outlet’s idea to go with the abortion angle…but they wouldn’t be taking down the article either. Not when it was generating such a strong response.
I hadn’t thought it needed to be taken down. Even if it wasn’t the message we wanted surrounding the symposium, it was true that all press really was good. Our buzz on social media had exploded in the past week, and most of our supporters seemed more fired up than anything, their enthusiasm for the clinic rising.
Sure, there were incensed people and the expected amount of trolls, but that was the internet. Nothing that warranted security. Definitely not enough to explain the armed guard standing at the front of the break room.
Director Gardner continued in her calm tone. “Feel free to introduce yourself to Mr. Fisher as you see him around. Let’s make him feel welcome. And if you have any questions or concerns, you can bring them to me or Talia.” Talia nodded at the room with her signature warm smile, looking no more bothered than if Director Gardner had said we should go to her to discuss new designs for staff T-shirts. “That’ll be all for today. Thanks, everyone.”
I was out of my chair and beelining for Talia before the director had finished her sentence. Before I could speak, Talia said, “Come with me.”
She led the way along the edge of the room, slipping past our colleagues still engaged in conversation as they shuffled toward the exit. When we reached her office, she motioned me inside and shut the door behind us, then faced me with hands raised as if to calm a wild animal.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” she said confidently. “Just a little hate mail we’ve been getting at the office.” My stomach hit the floor, smattering across the beige carpet. My face must have dropped, too, because she hurried to add, “Nothing extreme. But these things can sometimes get worse before they get better, so we want to be safe. That’s all.”
“But itisthe article, right? It’s because of what I said?” I lowered myself into the chair in front of her desk and gripped my necklace. “I’m so sorry, Talia. I should have handled it completely differently. Not said anything and just ended the interview after his first question. I knew what he was doing, but I didn’t want my silence to be twisted into some sort of shame for our work. I had no idea it would get this kind of attention. I?—”
“Dani,breathe,” Talia said as she circled her desk to sit in her chair.
I forced out a shaky breath.
“It’sokay. I promise. I wouldn’t have had you do a single thing differently. In fact, I probably would have said a lot worse myself. I’m proud of the way you represented this organization.”
“But hate mail? Talia, that’s?—”
“To be expected.”
My doubt must have shown on my face.
“No, really. We always knew it was a possibility with this project. That’s why we included a security guard in the budget for this year. Nothing about this surprised or upset me, Director Gardner, or the board. If it wasn’t this article, it would have been something else. It just comes with the territory. It’ll die down within a few weeks.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
Talia leaned across her desk, brows lifting in assurance. “It will. You just keep doing what you’re doing. Because you’re doing a great job.”
I chewed my bottom lip, pendant tugging along its chain as I tried to let the words sink in. They didn’t get far. Not through the rock-solid worry that had formed a fortress of doubt just beneath my skin.
I’d been waiting for something to go wrong with this event, and here it was. Maybe Talia and the board didn’t care, but my actions had led to this.
My only comfort was that the worst of the article had mostly been pointed at me. If things got worse, I could always resign and take the harshest of the criticism with me. Go back to Chicago or Tampa or Baltimore and plan team retreats and annual conferences in the corporate world again. My mother would be thrilled.
Or I could start all over in a new city.
Again.
Just the thought had my eyes burning. I cleared the lump from my throat. “I’ll go say hi to Mr. Fisher and get back to work.” I rose from the chair, keeping my gaze low so my composure didn’t crack.
“Chin up, Mills,” Talia said as I turned for the door.
I gave a quick nod and hurried from her office, retreating to the relative privacy of my cubicle, where I sank into my chair and gasped for breath.
I wanted to crawl under my desk and curl into a ball until the loop of worst-case scenarios blasting on repeat in my head dimmed back to its usual volume, low enough to ignore.
The irony was that the one time it had been silent was during that interview. I hadn’t analyzed my every response or spent any time doubting myself. I’d just let my instincts take over.
