“I’m sure they wouldn’t be nice about it. Or meet with
me. They’d probably just send more matches and leave me to
my own devices.”
“No!”
“I’m sure they would. I really appreciate all the time
you’re putting in. Meeting with me
all these times.”
“It’s fine.”
“It makes me feel special. Like I…never mind.” Steph
flushes. “That’s silly. Sorry.”
“Don’t say sorry. I can send you more matches or I can
wait. Give it a few days. It’s totally your call. Don’t worry
about me. I’ll be fine either way. I should never have said that.
I think that a new job might be good for me anyway. This isn’t
the job I saw myself doing anyway.”
“What did you see yourself doing?”
I guess this is safer ground because Steph immediately
becomes more relaxed. She finishes off her coffee and looks at
me like she’s interested in the answer. Like she really wants to
know.
“I kind of wanted to be a writer. Not a journalist, so I
didn’t go into journalism. Not that I don’t want to write
people’s stories, but I guess I don’t want someone looking
over my shoulder, telling me how to write it, telling me what’s
worth writing about, writing it a prescribed way, being all
worried about word count and deadlines.”
“You want to write novels?”
“Maybe. I know the chances of doing that are pretty
much slim to none. I guess that I’d like to get into something
corporate. Communications or maybe even HR, but places