The Neighbor - Don't Hate Me

1

Hope

I pulled my travel bag behind me, keeping a big, bright, stupid smile on my face. My phone buzzed as I exited through the automatic double glass doors.

The message was from Tori. She was running late.

“Dammit,” I said.

A woman wrapped her arm around her young daughter and ushered her quickly past me. The evil look poured out of her narrowed brown eyes.

“Shit,” I said, shaking my head. “Sorry.”

I’d managed to make it worse.

The woman practically jogged to get her daughter away from my potty mouth. If she had to deal with what I had to put up with over the last two days, she’d probably understand.

I stood there in my itchy uniform, watching for Tori’s car. I’d only been outside of the building for two minutes when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“Hope,” Marcie, my supervisor, said. “Can we talk?”

“Um, sure,” I said, looking around.

I was exhausted, and the last thing I wanted to do after waiting on people on a long flight was talk to Marcie. We were back from Hawaii. On the flight, I had imagined I was one of the people in the seats ready to enjoy a long vacation on the beach. Instead, I was the one walking up and down the small aisles to make sure everyone was comfortable.

Marcie’s office was near the main doors. I’d be able to see Tori’s car through the glass walls, but I sent her a quick message that I had to have a quick talk with my supervisor.

It wasn’t a problem, though, because Tori was still fifteen minutes away. She claimed she was stuck in traffic, but I was fairly certain she forgot she had to pick me up.

Marcie closed her office door and flashed me a thin-lipped smile as she gestured at the chair in front of her giant desk. “Please, have a seat.”

I rolled my bag in front of the chair as if it were my shield. I sat down and looked around the room nervously as she walked to the other side of her desk.

There was a photograph of a young girl dressed in red and wearing pigtails with cute little bows at the ends. She looked happy, but I wasn’t sure how she could have been with Marcie for a mother.

Marcie was hard. Tough. She didn’t put up with anything, which was why I was pretty sure she could see the sweat collecting under my arms, soaking through the thick fabric of my uniform.

“Hope,” she said, folding her hands.

Oh shit. Not now. I needed this job. I needed it more than ever.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news for you,” she continued.

I was tempted to drop to my knees and beg for another chance. Her words blended together. I wasn’t sure how she could maintain eye contact with me while giving me such devastating news.

“Do you even like being a flight attendant?” she asked.

I shook my head. I knew what all the words had meant on their own, but it took me some time to figure out what they meant in that particular order.

“It’s okay,” I said. Why hadn’t I lied? What the hell was wrong with me.

“We’ve had too many complaints. I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go,” Marcie said.

“But I need this job,” I said.

Marcie’s lips pressed together into a thin frown. Her eyebrows were curled up caterpillars on her forehead.

“I’m sorry, Hope,” Marcie said. “Do you need to get stuff from your locker?”

“What did I do wrong?” I asked, staring out the window. The cars racing by were smears of color.

Marcie stood and gestured toward the door. She was ignoring my question.

“Seriously,” I said, staying in the chair. I looked at her over my shoulder. Her hand was on the doorknob. “What did I do?”

“You don’t smile enough, we need our attendants to be friendly. Your language is not what we expect from our attendants, and you bring our clients the wrong things. It’s like you’re not paying attention or even trying.” Marcie held up her palm. It looked like she could have gone on and on for days about my short-comings but that she had to stop herself before she did. “Hope, I like you, but we both know you don’t want to be here. It’s just not a good fit.”

I stood. My sweaty fingers wrapped around the handle of my bag.

“You’re right about that. I’m tired of having my butt slapped or grabbed. I’m tired of the pilots asking me to spend the night with them, even the married ones.” I straightened my shoulders. “That’s right, I said pilots… plural. I’m also sick of the other gossiping flight attendants who tell each other I’ve slept with said pilots when I, in fact, did not. Charlotte did, though, if that matters to you.”

Marcie opened her mouth, but this time I held up my palm. I scratched my eyebrow and sighed.