The Fortunate Ones

I even contemplate leaving my job before I find a position. I have some money in savings, and I figure if I use it wisely, I could go four or five months before it’s completely depleted. It’s a tempting option, but I won’t do it. I put that money aside for travel and I refuse to use it now, for this. I can endure a few more weeks at the country club, especially considering I’ve already gone five whole shifts without coming in contact with James. According to Ellie and Marissa, they haven’t seen him around either.

I don’t know how I feel about that. He could be staying away because he can’t stand the sight of me, or he could be staying away because he actually doesn’t care to see me. Or, worst of all, he could be going about his life with no thought of me at all.

It’s been eight days since Vegas.

By now, I expected to be well into phase two of Operation Get Over James, but I’m still held up in phase one: Stop Thinking About Him Every Minute of Every Damn Day. It doesn’t help that his company has been all over the news. Apparently his TED talk at the conference went really well. I broke down and watched it one night in an incognito browser tab, like maybe that way I wouldn’t have to acknowledge what I was doing. I wanted to see some hint of emotion in his eyes, but he was nothing but professional, not even a hint of bags under his eyes. I made it through the entire speech, filled with pride for how eloquently he spoke, and then I promptly slammed my laptop closed and tossed it aside.

Early the next morning I saw an article on the front page of the Texas Monthly website highlighting a union between BioWear and a large foreign tech NGO based in London. Apparently, they were also in attendance at the conference in Vegas and James’ presentation piqued their interest. Their focus is on creating technology for underserved populations, and they’re equally motivated to develop the BioShield. The article predicted that with the new infusion of capital, BioShield could be ready for trial deployment within the next few years.

I’m ecstatic for him, and I want him to know that.BROOKE: I heard about the deal. Congratulations. I know how excited you must be to see your dream get one step closer to reality.After I send it, I keep my phone near me at all times, checking it every few minutes to see if a reply has come through. After two days, I decide he’s probably not going to respond.

Still, I don’t regret sending it.

I try to distract myself with more job searching, and I finally catch my first lucky break a few days after I read the article about the merger. My agency calls to notify me of a family looking to hire an au pair. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for since I lost my last position. The couple, Diego and Nicolás, are moving back to Spain at the end of the summer and would like to bring an American tutor back with them. Their two adopted daughters have been learning English while in the United States, and Diego and Nicolás are anxious to continue their education in Spain.

“You’re one of only a handful of our tutors who are willing to relocate,” the head of the agency points out. Yes, technically that’s true. When I first put in my application, I made myself completely available for travel around the United States or abroad. “Frankly, you’re not going to get another opportunity like this,” she insists. “We’ve had a hard time placing you, and this position is perfect. The children are young and according to their fathers, they’re eager to learn.”

I ask for a few days to think about it, which she grudgingly gives me, along with a harsh warning about the job slipping through my fingers if I’m not careful.

I’ve been job hunting like crazy, so I should be thrilled by the prospect of starting a new position with a family, but my fight with James and our subsequent falling out means I can barely work up the shadow of joy.

I’m distracted as I get ready for work and bike to Twin Oaks. I’ve always wanted to travel as much as I can while I’m young, so it’s slightly unsettling that I’m not jumping at the opportunity to move to Spain. There’s a good reason for my hesitation, but I don’t let it surface. Instead, I lock my bike up and head inside.

“Guess who’s finally showing his face,” Ellie says, dipping her head into the employee locker room.

I stiffen and focus intently on the contents of my locker. When I’m sure my voice won’t break, I finally answer. “Oh yeah?”