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MIA

I assessed the interior of yet another corporate office with disdain. The walls were a muted gray, decorated with motivational posters that made me want to roll my eyes. Lies . All of them. Especially the one that said “Every Accomplishment Starts with the Decision to Try.” There was an image of a sunrise. I snorted. As if starting another day in the office could lead to some magnificent, life-changing breakthrough.

That quote was a load of crap because I’d been trying my hardest for years, and I had accomplished nothing but ending up penniless, in debt, and desperate for a job that I knew would make me miserable.

My foot tapped nervously on the ugly carpet because this was my third interview this week. The first two went horribly and that tiny pessimistic part of my brain was telling me the third time wouldn’t be the charm. However, the largely optimistic side kicked in. I’d do better with this interview for sure.

Things would get better. They already had. I’d met a man. Well, we hadn’t actually met in person yet. I’d been texting with who seemed like a decent guy on this blind dating app I came across.

Chatting with someone without the pressure and uncertainty that came with starting a relationship was perfect for me because I just got out of a bad one. I’d barely crawled out of it unscathed… mostly. However, I’ve been known to be “foolishly optimistic,” according to my mother, so I immediately went on the hunt for Mr. Right. He was out there, and maybe Michael, the guy I connected with on the app, was him.

From his messages, I gathered he was the calm, decisive type. Maybe I needed to date men like that and not impulsive, free-spirited ones like myself. It was time to try the whole opposites attract scenario to see if it was bullshit or if it actually worked.

A phone rang, disrupting my thoughts of the faceless Michael, and I glanced at the receptionist. When she placed the phone back into its cradle, she gave me a bright smile.

“Ms. Clarke, they’re ready for you.”

I stood up, smoothed my skirt, and took a deep breath. “I’m going to kill this interview…” In a good way. Not like I crashed and burned in the last two.

I did indeed kill the interview… murdered it in the worst way. It was gruesome, and yet another thing to add to my growing list of failures. Shoulders slumped and confidence back to wallowing in the dirt, I stepped outside.

The California air was hot, which only worsened my mood. Not qualified. That was what the interviewer said to me before we even finished. How could I not be qualified to sit in a godforsaken cubicle performing painfully redundant tasks every day?

As I waited for my ride to arrive, I reached for my phone in my handbag. Messages from Michael had been my source of comfort for the last few weeks. Unfortunately, he hadn’t responded to my last text about an official date. That was a bad sign. Maybe he didn’t want to meet. I could understand that. Nowadays, face-to-face meetings with people from online platforms could be dangerous. Since I was persistent and foolishly optimistic , I sent him another message. Maybe he got busy, and it slipped his mind to respond.

Me: Hey… so, my day just got shot to hell. A “yogurt clash” would do me some good right now…

I waited for his response and got nothing. My mood plummeted some more. “I shouldn’t have sent him that lame text earlier,” I grumbled. It wasn’t even that funny. Just then, I saw my brother’s sleek car crawling toward me in traffic. He’d been so stoked about my interview that he offered to drop me off and pick me up as if it were my first day at kindergarten.

Jonathan excelled at annoying me and making me feel like his baby sister, but I let him get away with it because I adored him and he meant well. When he came to a stop, I jumped into the car, so he wouldn’t have to pull over.

He gave me his typical disapproving scowl. “That was probably illegal.”

I rolled my eyes and buckled my seat belt. “Relax, will you? You’re such a stickler for rules.” As he scowled harder, I smiled sweetly and said, “Hey. Thanks for the lift.”

His expression softened. Since we were at a standstill in the evening bumper-to-bumper jam, he looked at me. “Well…?”

My gaze darted away from him. “Well what?”

He huffed. “The interview. Did you get the job?”

Nibbling my lip, I shrugged. “You know, Jon, that job wasn’t for me. I mean, can you picture me in a drab suit and sensible pumps sitting in a cubicle like a caged bird? Yeesh… ” I shuddered in disgust and then turned to smile at him. “Am I right?”

Jonathan wasn’t amused. He gave me the same unimpressed, straight-faced stare Dad usually gave me.

Sighing, I hung my head like an errant child and grumbled, “I got turned down.”

“Again? This was your third interview.”

His disbelieving tone made me feel like such a failure even though I knew he didn’t mean to make me feel that way.

“What did they say?” he asked.

Fiddling with the straps of my handbag, I shrugged. “Something about me not being qualified…”

Jonathan quirked an eyebrow. “What does that tell you?”

“That the corporate gatekeepers are a bunch of dicks?”

His eyes narrowed on me… probably because he could be considered one of those corporate dicks. “Being turned down thrice should tell you that you need to get your ass to college to become qualified for something… anything .”

“Why are you always low-key calling me stupid? And nobody under eighty says thrice ,” I snapped. The latter probably wasn’t true. I was just pissed.

“I have never in my life called you stupid, Mia.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure you’ve thought about it plenty of times, just like Dad.”

He sighed heavily and returned his attention to the road as the traffic lurched forward. “We’re not arguing about something nonsensical again.”

“No young person says nonsensical either,” I grumbled.

Jonathan’s low chuckle made me turn to him with a glare.

“Why do you take digs at me every time I try to give you advice about your future?”

“Because you don’t give advice,” I replied heatedly. “You order me to do things just like Dad, and it’s irritating. I’m twenty-one. I can make my own decisions.” Sure, some of them —okay, a lot of them—might not have been great ones, but they were mine to make because I was an adult.

The car got quiet. He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. Finally, he said, “Alright, fine. I’m sorry if I do that. I just want to see you get on the right track.”

The right track? He made me sound like a miscreant on the path to a life of crime.

“I know you mean well, but I want to live my life the way I want to. Going to college is… It isn’t for everybody…” Plus, choosing one thing to do for the next fifty years felt so restricting. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure what I wanted to do with my life, but I had time.

“You’re right,” he said. “You should live life on your terms, but…”

I rolled my eyes. There was always a but .

“If it’s about money. I can help you out with tuition.”

My teeth sank into my lower lip so hard, I almost drew blood. Oh, I had money issues alright. If I didn’t get my hands on a shit ton soon, I’d be screwed all the way to hell. Jonathan had no idea about the mess I was in. He could never know. No one could. I’d die before I proved everyone right about me being a screw-up.

“Mia, are you alright?”

“I’m fine. It isn’t about money. Look, don’t worry about me,” I said. “I’ll get a job soon, and my life will turn around. You’ll see. Mom and Dad will see… I won’t be the family screw-up forever.”

“Mia, you’re not a screw-up.”

I folded my arms across my middle. He’d change his tune if he found out how much trouble I was in. My cell beeped, and I immediately snatched it from my bag. It wasn’t an email from one of the many jobs I had applied for, but excitement still zipped through me. It was a message from Michael.

Michael: Hi, Jane. I’m sorry for just getting back to you.

A sliver of guilt passed through me as it usually did when he called me Jane. I’d given a fake name because while I was a hopeless romantic, I wasn’t na?ve. I was skeptical about giving anyone I met online my real information. There were some psychos out there.

It’s okay, I texted back.

Michael: I’m sorry you had a bad day. I hope this will brighten it a bit… Let’s meet.

My heart skipped a beat, and I squealed. I was excited and scared about meeting the man I’d been having intimate conversations with for weeks.

Jonathan glanced at me. “Is that good news about a job?”

“No…” I pressed my phone to my chest, so he wouldn’t see the text.

Jonathan seemed disappointed, but he didn’t verbalize it.

When his gaze was fixed back ahead, I jumped back into conversation with Michael.

Me: I’d love to finally meet you. You seem to be a busy guy. I’ll let you choose the date and time.

Michael: You’re always so thoughtful. I like that about you. I’ll let you know the details by tomorrow .

Jane: Sounds great. I anticipate putting a face to the name.

Michael: Me too.

And that was that. I was going to meet Michael No-last-name. Hopefully, I wasn’t walking into a crazy situation with a stranger, but with my luck who knew what would happen?