wake up the next morning before Sonya does, the jangle of anxiety keeping me from sleeping in. I’m thankful to my best friend for letting me stay with her, and the pillows on her couch turn out to make a surprisingly cozy nest.
Sonya wakes up and gets ready a short while later. I hear the shower. I unpack some of my clothes from my bags and lay them out on the couch.
Checking my phone, I confirm the addresses of the job interviews I have today. None of them looked like sure hits and they don’t improve on a second look. Still, I go down the list, psyching myself for each one. I’m going to give every single one the very best shot that I’ve got.
I’m going to go for them, and I’m going for all of them like my life depends on it. At this rate, any job will do for me. And my life kind of does depend on it.
My best friend comes out of her bedroom, all dressed and ready for work. “Hey, you’re up. That’s good. Early bird gets the worm and all.”
“Yeah,” I nod. “You know, it’s only now that I’m no longer bumming at Helen’s that I realize just how terrible my wardrobe is. Seriously, look at my stuff. This is what I’m going to have to choose from to go to my interviews? I’m never going to get a job.”
Sonya goes to her fridge, taking out some bagels and pops them into her toaster. “That’s not too bad,” she tries to encourage me. “I mean, at least you’re not going to those interviews wearing your pajamas.”
“At this rate, I might have to. Ugh, and I’m not even that worried about how to dress for the interviews — I have to see Jagger again, that’s what I’m afraid of,” I tell her.
“If he likes you, he won’t care what label you’re wearing, babe,” Sonya says, stifling a yawn as the toaster pops the bagel halves up with a ding! to signal that they’re done. “You’re overthinking it, I promise.”
“He thinks I’m someone like Helen. I made a slip when we were on the phone last night, something about me never going to fancy places. You should have heard the surprise in his voice. He was like, ‘you? Not fancy? You’re the living, breathing embodiment of fancy.’”
Sonya laughs. “Come. Get something to eat. I’ve got to rush out quick. Cream cheese okay with your bagel?”
“Perfect,” I say, joining her in her kitchenette. “Seriously though, I’m starting to feel guilty for misleading this guy. Makes me feel like I’m a total fraud and this is a house of cards that’s going to just tumble down. He’ll discover I’m no fancy, glamorous girl, and he’ll move on to the supermodels waiting in a line behind me.”
“Alexa,” Sonya says, shaking her head. “Trust me. From what you’ve told me about him, he sounds like he could be a real good guy. I’m willing to bet you good money that he won’t do something like that.”
“Good thing for me I don’t have any money,” I grumble. “So, what, I should just… be myself?”
“Exactly. Be yourself. That’s who he’s all head over heels for,” Sonya says.
“If that’s so easy, why didn’t I think of it earlier? Yeah. I should just be myself.”
“Be yourself and get your shit together, babe,” Sonya says. Her eyes flash as she bites into her bagel. “Gotta go! I’ll see you when I get home, okay? Oh yeah! Best of luck with the job interviews. Knock it out the park.”
I watch my best friend leave, and I return to my resume. Be myself. That seems a little too obvious. Maybe, though, this time it could work.
In any case, I resolve to myself that Jagger needs to see the real me. How he deals with it is up to him, but I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not anymore. I want him, and I want him to want me.
The real me. How could that not work?
Interviews one and two were on the phone via Skype. Interview three was a scramble across town on the thrill rides of two MTA busses, but I got there on time and got it done.
I’m hoping that I made more of an impression on those interviewers than any of them did on me. I can barely remember anything about any one of them. Am I going to get one of those jobs? Well, if I don’t it won’t be for lack of trying.
I’ve got another two before I can call it a day.
I park my butt on a bench in Union Square with a pot of yogurt. I have forty minutes to chill and psych myself for two more. Flash my resume, flash a smile, talk about how excited I am to explore work opportunities with them, so on, so forth.
I’m putting on the very best show that I can but inside, I’m feeling like it’s all pretty soulless. I am excited about having a job. but none of these really seem like good fits for me.
Not that I’m picky. I’ll take any job that’ll have me and I’ll put a hundred and ten percent into it. I know that I’ve been too slow to get back onto my feet. I had it too easy in my sister’s place. I’m determined now. Whatever it takes.
My phone’s been put to vibrate-only all day. Jagger calls me while I’m in the hard gray plastic chair in a grey waiting area, filling in paperwork for interview number four. I don’t want to pick this up. As much as I enjoy hearing his voice, talking to him right now would pull me out of the zone.
Princesses and thieves are not what I need to think about right now. What I really need to think about is my Microsoft Word and Excel proficiency.
I place a hand into my handbag and reach for my phone, flicking it from ‘vibrate-only’ to ‘no notifications’. The screen stays lit, because Jagger follows up that first call with a second one.
His determination is a rare quality in men. Others come off as pushy when they’re trying to be persistent. Jagger comes off as someone who knows what he wants, and will pursue it until it’s his.
I hand the clipboard with my information back to the assistant who is hovering over me. In a thick British accent he tells me, “Mr Wallace will see you shortly. I’ll come to collect you when it’s time.”
There’s clearly going to be a long wait. Men and women in muted business attire wait in chairs lining the walls. If Jagger calls me again, I might even pick up.
I pull my phone out and wait. After five minutes, I realize he’s not calling again.
Maybe this is for the best.
Maybe he won’t call me ever again.
I won’t lie, my time with Jagger has been fun. I’ve not felt swept off my feet like this for a long time. Exactly like this? Maybe never. That chance to explore whatever it is that we’ve been doing has been like sunlight. It’s helped me see the skepticism that I hold for all men, after the disaster with Stefan. And I think it’s helped me to let go of it. Or to start at least.
But I am feeling like that was a fantasy. For me, at least, it’s not what real life is like. I have more immediate concerns now. Getting a job. Getting a place. Getting my life together. A hunky, gorgeous pilot who gives me the best sex of my life and wants to take me to fancy cocktail bars is nice, but I’ve got to remember that in the real world, men like him aren’t always around. Even now, at this stage we’ve known each other, he’s always busy jetting around back and forth.
Could I even let our thing go to the next level while being okay with not seeing him for days and weeks at a time? Phone calls aren’t usually my thing — but it is for Jagger. He’s not a texting man. He likes his one-on-one time. I think he wants the immediate attention. I don’t blame him for that, but it’s an adjustment for me.
If he was less hot, and way less attentive, this would be an easy dilemma to get out of. But he’s perfect, in a way that seems too good to be true. I find myself happier than I’ve been for a long time, whenever I get to spend time with him, whether it’s on the phone, or out on a date with him, or in bed.
The story of the princess in the tower finds its own parallels with me. I’m trapped, too, but not by a wicked king. My trap is my own work, the result of everything crashing down at the wrong time for me. I could definitely use a thief who’ll steal my heart and take me from my tower. But that’s a fairy tale. A fairy tale love story.
Those stories are for little girls. And as much as I cherish the part of me that has all my childlike wonder, I’m a grown woman. I just need to learn how to think and act like one, and I’ll be good to go.