“Well, isn’t that just too funny?”
The woman put her tea down. She didn’t laugh, though, and her clear blue eyes were without the trace of merriment I had come to associate with the honeysuckle of this place.
And isn’t that the worst thing in the world, when someone says something is funny and they never crack a smile? To state the humor instead of laughing out loud makes life at that moment seem rather bleak.
She was responding to something I had said, but now I focused on what she wasn’t saying back.
The glass teetered as it hit the white porcelain saucer, with lipstick covering the delicate trail of painted bluebells on its rim.
I couldn’t help but stare at this remnant of high society, the tea and saucer and lipstick from a woman who thought self-worth was the color pink. Blonde chignon and black suit said she made it through the ceiling. Shattered it, even.
But not without the scars that forced her to assume the world was no longer teeming with promise.
“I assume you’ll be accepting the position, then. And when can you start?”
The words were more a challenge than a welcome. Blue met brown in a stare down. Look down. My loss.
“I have to think about it, actually,” I said. “I didn’t realize how…multi-faceted this decision would be.”
Her eyebrows raised a fraction of a millimeter in an attempt to display emotion. A struggle for her.
“It seemed like you’d been wanting this position for a long time,” she said. “Four rounds of interviews, an offer that meets your every demand. To turn it down now would be almost unheard of.”
I knew then.
For in the last five minutes that stood between me and the goal that had become part of my identity, I understood what could happen when life became something to work at rather than live.
Understanding is a funny thing. It often strikes, unwelcome, during the moments you so carefully planned for. The balanced world falls off again and you scramble to right it before you fall flat.
And the following moments become part of this new path away from ignorance.
“Eh…something’s come up, I think,” I said, without thinking. “Thank you for spending time with me. It really helped me get a feel for what I could be getting into. Excuse me.”
I put my napkin on the chair and gathered my purse. My hip banged the table and her cup click-clacked with the saucer.
Pink lips quivered and frowned, then turned up into the shadow of a smile.
“It was nice to meet you,” she said. “I wish you the best.”
For a second I felt the current of authenticity. A look that seemed one of relief took control of her features. Soft revealed itself. Then the mask was back again.
I expressed my last thanks and walked away.
With a glance back I caught a remarkable glimpse of sadness that comes from choosing the constant pursuit of something that looks a lot like the right choice.
The next day I made plans to leave.
