Page 2 of Mailroom Delight
“I’m drunk. I.” She hiccupped. “I cccan’t.”
We both stopped laughing and stared at each other in awe before we started giggling again, then burst into fits of laughter. I drank the rest of the wine in my glass. I was drunk, too. There was no point denying it, and no point letting a perfectly good glass of Pinot Noir go to waste.
We didn’t usually do this on a work night. It was only Wednesday.
I had brought the wine to cheer Bernice up today because she needed it. Yesterday, she found out her ex-boyfriend, Cody, was getting married.
She loved him, and thought they’d be the one’s walking down the aisle this summer. But no, instead they’d broken up six months ago.
She was just starting to get over him when the news came. I watched it put her right back at the place she was months ago when she was trying her best to get over him.
I knew the loss of love all too well, but my story was slightly different, and one I didn’t want to think about right now. Especially when I was being accused of being heartless.
“But, at least you’re drunk, and not crying like yesterday.” I meant to say that a little better.
“Thank you, Miss ‘I have heart’. That was a little heartless.” She pouted at me. pushing out her full red lips.
“I’m sorry. It’s the drink. I meant you’ll live. Forget Cody. You can and will do better. I know it.” I nodded. It was true.
Bernice was beautiful with her golden skin and long, curly black hair. All the women in her family were; they had that exotic beauty most Latina women had. Her family came from Brazil, she had all kinds of beauty encasing her.
I wasn’t jealous. I knew I could hold my own, but there was something to be said about people who looked unique and had the kind of presence that made you want to stare.
That was Bernice. I was certain she would be fine.
“Thank you. I needed that, and that was heart. Maybe that’s what our Jason means.”
“Oh shit, you are agreeing with him.” I snapped grimacing.
“Just a little. A small bitty bit,” she pointed out doing that circle thing with her fingers again. “I’m just saying that maybe you could take a little bit of his advice. He is our boss after all.”
“So what? That’s never been a problem. I do what feels like me. He’s trying to change that part of me.”
She sighed and gave me a pensive look.
I’d never had to worry about that in the five years I’d worked atPortrait. I started my internship here straight out of Harvard and was so good they’d kept me. That was what?
Six years now. I came here at the young age of twenty-four. I was full of life and zeal, ready to go change the world.
I was going to be thirty at the end of the year and had to say I’d never expected to accomplish all the things I had.
Even Bernice had to acknowledge that. We met here. She was an intern, too, but diverged to the management side of things, after deciding she preferred it to trying to secure an editorial position.
She’d seen me throw myself into hard work and knew I wouldn’t have to worry about impressing anyone.
Least of all this guy.
He seemed to me to be one of those people who tried to spoil a good thing, just so they could make their own mark.
He only had this company because our beloved Elizabeth had retired. She’d made her millions on the magazine and decided she wanted to spend the rest of her life travelling the world with her husband, and spending time with her family.
I heard she sold it cheap too, which was a shame since it attracted someone like this guy, who wanted to change it all up.
I’d heard a few complaints here and there, but it seemed like he wanted to make the biggest changes to me.
It was absurd, and I just couldn’t believe the ridiculousness, and preposterousneity. God was that even a word?
Preposterous.
