eat some popcorn. You in?”
I laugh even though I’m annoyed at her obvious change of topic. “Sure. Let me book the flights and I’ll be out in a minute. Do we have any popcorn cheese?”
“I think so. And if not we can always use the cheese mix from a package of Kraft Dinner.” She leaves the room, closing the door behind her, and soon I hear the high-pitched whine of the popcorn popper. I go back to West Jet and book two tickets to Victoria on the Monday. We land at four-thirty in the afternoon. That should give us time to find a hotel, get settled in and have a good night’s sleep before I track down Drew. I complete my transaction, email Josh the confirmation numbers and turn my computer off.
Computer shut down. Mind shut down. No more thinking for tonight.
Cowards may die many times before their deaths.
—English Proverb
Chapter Nine
M onday and Tuesday drag by. I try to be productive, look for jobs and clean the apartment, but my motivation is nonexistent. I am stuck in limbo, as if my life is on pause until I know where Drew and I stand. Technically, if he has a big, fancy career in Victoria, I might have to move out there to be with him. So it might be pointless to try too hard to find a new job here in Calgary.
Still, when Wednesday comes, I wake up well before my alarm buzzes. I lie in bed, listening to the sounds of early morning traffic. I know if I look out the window I will see rows of brake lights as hundreds of people make their commute into the downtown core. There will be people standing at bus stops and down the street, at the C-Train station, students and office employees will be huddled in the chilly air, waiting for transit to bring them to their destinations.
Today is my interview with Jameson and Jameson, a small law firm down on 17th Avenue. They are significantly less prestigious than Carter Clinton and deal with mainly environmental law. Deep down, I’m sure I am very passionate about environmental law. I would have to be a horrible person to not care about something as noble as our environment, right? I hope I can convince them as well as myself.
I dress carefully, finally deciding on my black suit jacket with the thin pinstripes and the matching knee-length skirt. I wear a red blouse underneath because red is symbolic of power and drive and courage, all of which are necessities in the world of law.
Heather is gone when I leave the apartment, probably off at some ribbon cutting at an elementary school. I walk down the block to the train station, catch a south bound train to Victoria Park—Stampede station and walk for fifteen minutes, arriving five minutes before my interview.
Before I enter, I close my eyes. You are a strong, intelligent woman. You are an excellent employee and they would be lucky to have you. Go get ’em!
My phone buzzes with a text. It’s from Josh. Good luck on your interview. Fingers crossed!
It’s sweet that he remembered, considering how busy he has been lately. I send him a quick Thanks with a smiley face and then pull the door handle. It sticks a little, so I give it a harder tug and enter the lobby.
You know how they say that a first impression is always right? Well, I really hope this isn’t the case. As my eyes adjust to the artificial lighting, I am disappointed to see it is small, cramped and dark, so unlike my previous law firm which prided itself on being intimidating and professional to the utmost zenith. The receptionist at the desk is a woman in her mid-forties with the permanent lines on her forehead and sides of her mouth of someone who either smokes or frowns way too much.
“Yes?”
“Hi, I’m Charlotte A. Southard and I have a meeting with Bill Jameson at eleven.”
She coughs into her arm and then flips through a ledger on the desk in front of her. “Southard, Southard, ah, yes, here you are. I’ll let him know you are here.”
There is no invitation to be seated, but I cross to the faded, leather couches and sit anyway.
I laugh even though I’m annoyed at her obvious change of topic. “Sure. Let me book the flights and I’ll be out in a minute. Do we have any popcorn cheese?”
“I think so. And if not we can always use the cheese mix from a package of Kraft Dinner.” She leaves the room, closing the door behind her, and soon I hear the high-pitched whine of the popcorn popper. I go back to West Jet and book two tickets to Victoria on the Monday. We land at four-thirty in the afternoon. That should give us time to find a hotel, get settled in and have a good night’s sleep before I track down Drew. I complete my transaction, email Josh the confirmation numbers and turn my computer off.
Computer shut down. Mind shut down. No more thinking for tonight.
Cowards may die many times before their deaths.
—English Proverb
Chapter Nine
M onday and Tuesday drag by. I try to be productive, look for jobs and clean the apartment, but my motivation is nonexistent. I am stuck in limbo, as if my life is on pause until I know where Drew and I stand. Technically, if he has a big, fancy career in Victoria, I might have to move out there to be with him. So it might be pointless to try too hard to find a new job here in Calgary.
Still, when Wednesday comes, I wake up well before my alarm buzzes. I lie in bed, listening to the sounds of early morning traffic. I know if I look out the window I will see rows of brake lights as hundreds of people make their commute into the downtown core. There will be people standing at bus stops and down the street, at the C-Train station, students and office employees will be huddled in the chilly air, waiting for transit to bring them to their destinations.
Today is my interview with Jameson and Jameson, a small law firm down on 17th Avenue. They are significantly less prestigious than Carter Clinton and deal with mainly environmental law. Deep down, I’m sure I am very passionate about environmental law. I would have to be a horrible person to not care about something as noble as our environment, right? I hope I can convince them as well as myself.
I dress carefully, finally deciding on my black suit jacket with the thin pinstripes and the matching knee-length skirt. I wear a red blouse underneath because red is symbolic of power and drive and courage, all of which are necessities in the world of law.
Heather is gone when I leave the apartment, probably off at some ribbon cutting at an elementary school. I walk down the block to the train station, catch a south bound train to Victoria Park—Stampede station and walk for fifteen minutes, arriving five minutes before my interview.
Before I enter, I close my eyes. You are a strong, intelligent woman. You are an excellent employee and they would be lucky to have you. Go get ’em!
My phone buzzes with a text. It’s from Josh. Good luck on your interview. Fingers crossed!
It’s sweet that he remembered, considering how busy he has been lately. I send him a quick Thanks with a smiley face and then pull the door handle. It sticks a little, so I give it a harder tug and enter the lobby.
You know how they say that a first impression is always right? Well, I really hope this isn’t the case. As my eyes adjust to the artificial lighting, I am disappointed to see it is small, cramped and dark, so unlike my previous law firm which prided itself on being intimidating and professional to the utmost zenith. The receptionist at the desk is a woman in her mid-forties with the permanent lines on her forehead and sides of her mouth of someone who either smokes or frowns way too much.
“Yes?”
“Hi, I’m Charlotte A. Southard and I have a meeting with Bill Jameson at eleven.”
She coughs into her arm and then flips through a ledger on the desk in front of her. “Southard, Southard, ah, yes, here you are. I’ll let him know you are here.”
There is no invitation to be seated, but I cross to the faded, leather couches and sit anyway.
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