Page 65 of My Merry Mistake
Are you resting?
Raya
My family won’t go home, so no…
Finn
Good. I’m glad you’re not alone.
The day after my “episode,” I wake up feeling tired.
Which is weird, because I slept almost ten hours. Half a bowl of Poppy’s soup, and I was out. My head is still foggy, and I feel like I went ten rounds with a heavyweight fighter, but my body is just going to have to get on board. I’ve got stuff to do.
I force myself out of bed and go through my normal routine. I move slowly and feel sluggish. And I’m not happy about it.
Shower. Helps a little.
Clothes. Make-up. Hair. Coffee. Protein bar.
By the time I walk to the door, I’m ready for a nap.
I almost feel unable—no, unwilling—to push through.
Regardless, I get in my car, start the engine, and put the car in reverse. I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. I look about as good as I feel, which is to say—terrible.
I havegotto figure out a way to get over this.
I reach into my bag, pull out a compact, and apply more powder under my eyes, but it doesn’t help. I look in the mirror and there’s a zombie looking back at me.
I let out a frustrated groan, but underneath, I feel the buzz of panic that I’ve been trying to shake since the second they put me on that stretcher.
I reach the office, a little zoned out and trying to mentally assemble some sort of to-do list as I head into the building. But my mind feels blank, like searching it produces no results. It’s hard to think, and I don’t like it. This isn’t me. I’m clear-headed and sharp. I’m the quick one. The one you go to when you need something done.
Right now, I feel like I’m operating at half of my normal processing power.
I step into the elevator as a text comes in.
Justin
Sorry I didn’t get to touch base with you last night. I hope you’re feeling better this morning? Sounds brutal.
I don’t text back. I’m not annoyed that Justin didn’t track me down yesterday. We’ve been out three times, and while that’s enough for some people to start planning a future—it’s not to me. We’re still new.
Still, if the roles were reversed, I’d like to think I’d care enough to at least check in.
This is what you signed up for, Raya.
It’s unfair to move the goalpost on him now.
The doors open, and as I step out onto the third floor, I try to keep my head down and stay focused on the path to my office. I rush even faster than usual, trying to avoid the curious stares. I can’t blame my co-workers—I was carried out of here on a stretcher yesterday. But I also don’t have it in me to tell the story a hundred times or convince anyone else that I’m okay.
Maybe I should send a mass “I promise I’m fine” email to the entire team.
Tonight, I’ll go to the game to sit in a VIP box with execs from The Alabaster Group. Entertaining major sponsors is something my boss, Brian, asked me to do once a few months ago. Apparently, I was good at it, because I’ve done it three times since. If I’m honest, I like making those VIPs feel special, and I especially love it when they tell my boss I’ve done well.
I might need some extra caffeine to get through tonight, though.
Jill intercepts me in the hallway. “Raya?” She looks confused. “We didn’t know you were coming in today.”
