I hardly saw or spoke to June in the weeks that followed, which is remarkable considering just how frequently we used to inadvertently bump into each other. But either fate was lending me a helping hand or she was consciously avoiding me.
Naturally, being my supervisor she had to sit in at my appraisal. But Mr. Abrams, the overall manager of the department was there too, and for once I was grateful for his presence. She kept a respectful silence through much of it, but when it came time to offer her evaluation she was both understated and effusive in her praise. I avoided meeting her gaze directly as she spoke of me, to me even. We spoke to each other without ever engaging the other. We might as well have been talking underwater. But Abrams looked pleased, as pleased as I'd ever seen him look, as his mouth distorted itself into something approaching a smile. Just once did I catch her eye. She glanced up suddenly as we were all rising from the table and seemed caught off-guard, almost vulnerable as we exchanged looks. She appeared on the verge of saying something but then turned her head. That was it.
Things were flowingly along at home. Paige had found herself a job waiting tables at some high-class Pizzeria and seemed to get on with the others who worked there, most of whom seemed to be college kids. She was eagerly waiting to hear back from Baruch, always being the first one to collect the mail. I was thankful that she had found herself a job. It certainly didn't make a huge difference to our finances, not with her spending habits, but it seemed to offer her a distraction for some of the time, kept her from pressing me about my varying moods.
I don't know when exactly it had begun, but lately I had started to feel like something approaching a bit part in my own life. Decisions were made, boxes were ticked, all that crap that keeps you going day in and day out. But somewhere along the way….my intent or my purpose…I don't know what it was…but it had got lost somehow. I was just drifting around, going through the motions, whatever. I could feel it creeping up on me, this abandonment, this detachment of emotion. Jaime has taken me aside a couple of times, had suggested I go to bereavement counseling. I was pretty emphatic in my latest refusal so he let it drop.
Paige would occasionally get an earnest look on her face and stroke my hair and try and coax me into unburdening my heart. But even that was becoming wearisome. I had told her everything I wanted her to know on that score. I didn't see the point in dredging up every remote memory or emotion just so I could suffer the humiliation of crying about it in front of someone. Besides, I knew they'd all gotten it wrong. The conscious effort to care less afforded its own kind of liberty. It meant I didn't have to think of the past, I didn't have to care about the future and I didn't have to inflict upon myself that masochistic pain that everyone was so determined I should feel.
So here I was, at my desk, reading my official letter of confirmation that I had got the Sales Assistant job. Something close to satisfaction flickers across my heart. Quickly followed by something else, another one of those ambiguous emotions I am busy suppressing. Oh well.
Rowena and Adam and a few others, even Tracy, decide to take me out to celebrate. "Hey, I'm only nineteen, remember, this will be more fun for you than me."
But Adam knows a place apparently; it turns out to be a dingy hole of a bar where they don't examine I.Ds too closely and we all set about ordering cocktails that they don't offer and going to great lengths to explain how to mix them. It's a fun night and I do my best to ignore the voice that's telling me to phone Paige. "Just one more," I keep telling them, "then I'm off home."
One turns into three shots, then four, but at last my resolution outweighs everyone else's drunkenness. "Seriously guys, I've really gotta go," I put on my jacket to emphasize my intent this time.
"Why you gotta go Alex? Hey?" This from Rowena. "You got something better waiting for you at home?"
"Might do," I answer cryptically, the alcohol giving me more than a certain degree of confidence.
They make oohing noises and raised eyebrow gestures at each other, but I don't let them draw me on it any further.
I spend my remaining cash on a cab home and stagger slightly up the stairs. I can hardly be bothered to compose myself before I enter the apartment.
Jaime, Diana and Paige are all sitting around the table, eating chips and playing poker. For some unreasonable notion, I'm faintly disappointed that my apparent lateness seems to have gone unchecked.
"Hey, poker buddy," Jaime offers in greeting, not taking his eyes off his cards, "Pull up a chair, why don't cha?"
I decline and go into the kitchen in search of something solid to put into my stomach.
"You're home late," Paige calls out.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry," I reply distractedly, my head in the cupboard. "I, uh, I got offered that job. So they took me out celebrating. Couldn't get away." This was an approximation of the truth. I didn't try all that hard, admittedly, but sure there was a token effort. That's got to count for something.
"Hey, you got the job? That's fantastic," beams Jaime, turning in his chair, "Hey Alex, come here."
I sidle back to the table, having only unearthed a glass of milk, which will have to do.
Jaime gives me his big encompassing bear hug, slapping my back enthusiastically and Diana looks on smilingly, offering "Congratulations girl."
I glance up at Paige whose mouth quivers in indecision, only her eyes expressing her anger. "Well done," she says quietly. Her face is enough to make me feel bad at my mistake, but my head isn't quite on the right mental plain to take her on tonight.
Jaime tries to get me to play poker again, but I turn it down, opting for a long shower. I tap Paige's head on my way past, but she just stiffens and doesn't look at me. Okay, she's going to be like that. I stay in the shower much longer than I need to, not wanting to face her, or them. The water pummels my body furiously and it's enough to revive my mind somewhat while emptying it of any unease. It's tempting not to get out at all. But then, I don't want my new paycheck to go entirely on hot water.
By the time I finish it's late and the cards have been put away. Paige is sitting on the bed waiting for me. I had hoped she might have just gone to sleep, but no such luck.
"You could have at least called," she begins, her voice sounding more hurt than angry.
"I'm sorry. My phone was outta juice." Okay, that one is a blatant lie.
She rolls her eyes and heaves out a sigh. There was a time when I would have been distressed to see her like this, unhappy because of me. But right now I don't even want to deal with it, it's just irritating.
"Really?" she says at last, turning back to face me.
"Yes," I respond forcefully, surprised at just how instinctually the lie comes out.
"I am pleased for you, y'know," she concedes, "It's just…I would have liked to go celebrating with you. Or at least be told."
She starts playing with my fingers absently as I slide down on my side of the bed. Her touch goes some way to soothing the tension. Some way, but…my mind's still floating around, looking for an available space to land.
"I know. We'll celebrate another time," I try and sound affectionate, I try and appear humble. She's kissing my knuckles and giving me her seductive look.
"We could always start right now?"
I let out an involuntarily sigh and edge slightly away. "Baby, I'm too tired."
That seems to stop her in her tracks briefly. I don't think it's a line I've ever used on her, although she's played it now and then. Her surprise is easily registered.
Her expression turns to one of concern. "Alex, what's wrong?" Here we go.
I inadvertently scrape the hair out of my face and turn to look up at the ceiling. Away from her sympathetic eyes that burn right through me.
"Nothing…it's just, y'know, this new job. It's just a lot of responsibility. I mustn't screw it up."
"You won't," she states it simply, and her certainty actually goes some way to calming me down.
"Mm," I murmur, non-comitally, "I'm glad someone has faith in me."
"Hey," she grabs my arm and pulls me round onto my side, so I'm lying facing her. "We all have faith in you, okay?"
I think about that. The "we". Who does that apply to in my life? Paige? My cousin? June?… What do they really think I'm going to do with the rest of my life? I mean, if I don't even really know. Who am I, to be believed in? What is it that makes you back a person like that anyway? Support them, when all they do is let you down, or mess you around or…
"Are you thinking about her?" Paige's voice invades my internal concourse.
I'm not sure what to say, not sure whether I really deserve these hands that are brushing stray locks of hair from my face or tracing my profile.
"I just," I hesitate, weighing up how much of this is actually worth getting in to, but wanting, almost craving, for an outsider's justification. "I just feel like, maybe her faith in me was always misplaced, y'know? Like, no matter what she said, it was always about something else. But then, I dunno, it seems like maybe I was wrong. Maybe she did believe in me, in a way that was just easier to ignore…"
She nods, as if trying to understand and so I continue. "I thought, after I told her, that there wouldn't even be a job for me, but…she kept her word. I mean, it's all there for me on a plate now. I guess it's just a little hard to believe…"
She stops abruptly her ministrations. "I was talking about your mother."
"Oh."
She chews her bottom lip, resolutely not looking at me. I can feel my heart plummeting. This is a perfect example of why I was keeping my mouth shut these days.
"So it's her. It's that woman that's been on your mind all this time."
"No. Paige, no, not at all."
Despite the darkness I can see her eyes brimming with tears now. It sends my guilty conscience skyrocketing out of retirement.
I want to reach out and hold her and comfort her, but there seems to be an invisible barrier between us that I dare not cross.
"You don't understand," I try lamely.
"How can I understand, when you won't begin to talk to me about anything," she croaks back miserably.
She's turned away from me now, but with her head looking back over her shoulder. She's expecting something from me, anything. But I can't find the words. She turns her face away, stifling what could be a sob.
I try reaching out my hand to her back, but her spine bristles at the contact.
I turn over onto my other side and we remain like that for most of the night, our backs to each other, our bodies a chasm apart.
Awake, aware and alone.