favorite pair of
jeans!"
"Oh, no!"
"Yup," she replies, taking another bite of her
sandwich.
"Well, at least you've got little people you can
blame. I do it all by myself. I gave a twenty-minute sales presentation awhile
back with a giant olive oil stain on my blouse. That's what I get for eating
lunch while driving to the appointment." I roll my eyes. "Of course Donna waits
until the very end of the meeting to point out the stain."
"Bitch," Vanessa declares.
"She's the queen of them."
I swipe a chip off of her plate. "So, what's new?"
Vanessa splays her hands out on the table and
leans toward me like she's about to whisper covert plans. I follow her cue and
lean forward too.
"What's new you ask? How about something new on a
very old topic?" Her left eyebrow curves just so, as her whimsical smile
appears. I raise my eyebrows in return, skepticism on my face. Vanessa loves to
be in the know. She pauses dramatically, and then asks, "Have you been on Facebook
lately?"
I lean back, wondering where the hell this is all
going. "For work or pleasure?" I ask. Sometimes I just want Vanessa to get on
with it. If I let her, she will drag this out as long as possible. She's just
like one of those awful reality TV game-show hosts who prolong the elimination announcement
until you're ready to hurl the remote at the TV. My impatience probably comes
from years of working for Tim. He can't tolerate unneeded words at any time.
Everything Tim does is accelerated to speeds beyond that of a normal person.
He's constantly in motion and if you want to tell him something you need to do
it quickly, in bullet points. It took me a long time to get used to it, but
once I did, I kind of enjoyed it. It's like everything gets sifted down to its
most precious parts. There's no time or space for filler where we work. We have
two seconds to get your attention, that's it.
Vanessa bristles a little at my not so subtle
irritation and then continues, "Collin is on Facebook." She says this like it's
a proclamation of world news, or a headline for the ages, tantamount to the
Berlin wall coming down. I stare at her blankly.
Taking another sip of tea I say, "Collin, who?"
Vanessa's mouth drops open and then she tilts back
her head and does what could best be described as a stage laugh. "What? Um, no,
you don't get to pull that shit with me, Rachel." Vanessa also loves to swear
now more than she ever has. She would never ever curse in front of her kids,
but get her with a group of adults, sans kiddos, and she's positively R-rated.
"Have you forgotten that we lived together for
three years after college? I had a front row seat when you pretended to be
mourning your breakup with Spencer to the rest of the world, but in reality were
lamenting blowing it with Mr. Tall, Hot and Troubled."
She's right. I know I can't slip much past her,
but I'm not sure I can handle any of this. "Vanessa," I whine, sounding like an
annoyed teenager. She ignores me and plows on.
"Don't act like you aren't curious, Rachel," she
accuses.
I let out a long exasperated sigh and try to
ignore the fact that my heart rate has inexplicably increased to a pace I
associate with runs on the treadmill. "How do you know it's even him? I mean, I
can't picture the Collin I knew having a Facebook page." I don't mention having
searched for him on there more than once since having joined the site a few
years ago. Although honestly, I hadn't thought much about him at all, since I
started dating Beckett.
Vanessa launches into her case regarding the
legitimacy of his page, all the while attempting to monitor my reactions to
each detail. "Well, let's see, first of all, we have a friend in common." I
raise my eyebrows, the only common friend I can think of between them would've
been me. Vanessa is one step ahead of me, clearly she's rehearsed this
conversation in her head. "Remember his old roommate, Jeff, who I dated for
like three seconds?" I nod. "Well, he and I are friends on there."
"Why are
jeans!"
"Oh, no!"
"Yup," she replies, taking another bite of her
sandwich.
"Well, at least you've got little people you can
blame. I do it all by myself. I gave a twenty-minute sales presentation awhile
back with a giant olive oil stain on my blouse. That's what I get for eating
lunch while driving to the appointment." I roll my eyes. "Of course Donna waits
until the very end of the meeting to point out the stain."
"Bitch," Vanessa declares.
"She's the queen of them."
I swipe a chip off of her plate. "So, what's new?"
Vanessa splays her hands out on the table and
leans toward me like she's about to whisper covert plans. I follow her cue and
lean forward too.
"What's new you ask? How about something new on a
very old topic?" Her left eyebrow curves just so, as her whimsical smile
appears. I raise my eyebrows in return, skepticism on my face. Vanessa loves to
be in the know. She pauses dramatically, and then asks, "Have you been on Facebook
lately?"
I lean back, wondering where the hell this is all
going. "For work or pleasure?" I ask. Sometimes I just want Vanessa to get on
with it. If I let her, she will drag this out as long as possible. She's just
like one of those awful reality TV game-show hosts who prolong the elimination announcement
until you're ready to hurl the remote at the TV. My impatience probably comes
from years of working for Tim. He can't tolerate unneeded words at any time.
Everything Tim does is accelerated to speeds beyond that of a normal person.
He's constantly in motion and if you want to tell him something you need to do
it quickly, in bullet points. It took me a long time to get used to it, but
once I did, I kind of enjoyed it. It's like everything gets sifted down to its
most precious parts. There's no time or space for filler where we work. We have
two seconds to get your attention, that's it.
Vanessa bristles a little at my not so subtle
irritation and then continues, "Collin is on Facebook." She says this like it's
a proclamation of world news, or a headline for the ages, tantamount to the
Berlin wall coming down. I stare at her blankly.
Taking another sip of tea I say, "Collin, who?"
Vanessa's mouth drops open and then she tilts back
her head and does what could best be described as a stage laugh. "What? Um, no,
you don't get to pull that shit with me, Rachel." Vanessa also loves to swear
now more than she ever has. She would never ever curse in front of her kids,
but get her with a group of adults, sans kiddos, and she's positively R-rated.
"Have you forgotten that we lived together for
three years after college? I had a front row seat when you pretended to be
mourning your breakup with Spencer to the rest of the world, but in reality were
lamenting blowing it with Mr. Tall, Hot and Troubled."
She's right. I know I can't slip much past her,
but I'm not sure I can handle any of this. "Vanessa," I whine, sounding like an
annoyed teenager. She ignores me and plows on.
"Don't act like you aren't curious, Rachel," she
accuses.
I let out a long exasperated sigh and try to
ignore the fact that my heart rate has inexplicably increased to a pace I
associate with runs on the treadmill. "How do you know it's even him? I mean, I
can't picture the Collin I knew having a Facebook page." I don't mention having
searched for him on there more than once since having joined the site a few
years ago. Although honestly, I hadn't thought much about him at all, since I
started dating Beckett.
Vanessa launches into her case regarding the
legitimacy of his page, all the while attempting to monitor my reactions to
each detail. "Well, let's see, first of all, we have a friend in common." I
raise my eyebrows, the only common friend I can think of between them would've
been me. Vanessa is one step ahead of me, clearly she's rehearsed this
conversation in her head. "Remember his old roommate, Jeff, who I dated for
like three seconds?" I nod. "Well, he and I are friends on there."
"Why are
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