Lena

 

 

 

"These damn big city yuppies, I'm telling ya!" my colleague Aileen curses as she crawls around on the floor next to me, scooping up the remains of some of the best sandwiches I've ever made in my life.

My heart breaks as we gather up the last few crumbs and toss them in the trash bag with the rest. Not all of the sandwiches fell out of their box onto the floor, but those still remaining in the box are too messed up to  serve to anyone.

"There are still some boxes in the car," Aileen soothes, trying to comfort me. "We're good. We still have some left."

"Yeah, but not enough!" I protest, my words coming out in a higher volume than intended. "These were like... half of everything we have!"

I'm choking back another threatening wave of tears, and biting at my lower lip to keep from speaking. I've always been one to weep easily, and I hate it. Aileen wouldn't react this way. She's cooler than me, stronger than me. She wouldn't get upset about the lost food, but do exactly what she's doing right now.

Cursing and threatening the asshole who's responsible for this.

"We're going to find him," she says in a conspiratorial tone. "He must be one of the convention attendees. It'll be easy to find and confront him."

I cast her an empty look. "And then what?"

Aileen huffs. "Then we'll make him pay for this! We lost part of our product, which means that idiot cost us money! He has to pay for this!"

I shrug, lowering my eyes as I begin scrubbing the floor with the cleaning supplies Aileen brought when she came to my rescue. We've only known each other about a year, but she is still the closest thing I have to a best friend. Because she is my only friend. She followed her husband when he moved to the small town that has been my home for the past seven years. He's the only doctor we have in town, and she only started working at our diner because she needed something to do. Unlike me, she doesn't need the money because her husband earns more than enough for the both of them. She just needed a purpose, a place to spend her time while her husband works his long shifts.

Maybe she needed the company, too. I never would have said that I was lonely until I met her. Until I realized how different life could be. Aileen is just five years older than me, but she seems to have life figured out. She always appears confident, very different from me. But unlike me, she's not alone. She found her place, next to her husband. The two of them have moved around a lot, due to his profession. They've been together since high school, and she has followed him every step of the way. The moved here from Boston, a decision that still confuses me. How could anyone move from a city like Boston to this God forsaken village?

"You live here, too," she said, when I asked her about it. "It can't be that bad, right?"

I didn't know what to tell her. I wanted to say that it wasn't my choice to come here, and that it wasn't my choice to stay. But the last part would be a lie.

"That should do it," Aileen announces, interrupting my stream of thoughts.

My eyes follow her motion as she gestures toward the floor around us, drawing a big circle as our gaze wanders, searching for any remaining evidence of my unfortunate encounter. I have to say, we did a good job. The floor looks cleaner than it did before my mishap.

"Yeah, it should," I agree, getting back up on my feet next to her. "Thank you so much."

Our eyes meet and she casts me an empathetic smile. Despite our small age difference, there's always something maternal about the way she regards me, and I don't mind it at all.

"Of course, sweety," she says. "We're in this together."

She places a comforting hand on my shoulder and beckons me to follow her.

"Let's go. We've got some work to do," she says. "And we need to look for that idiot, to make sure you get reimbursed for the trouble he caused."

"It was really my fault," I add for consideration as we make our way across the hallway, our arms full of the boxes of ruined food and cleaning supplies. "I ran into him and-"

"But only because he was being so rude!" Aileen cuts me off. "Don't always blame yourself for everything, Lena."

I cast her a look from the side. "I'm not! I'm just saying... he might not be very understanding, because I caused the situation."

"None of this would have happened if he hadn't ignored you."

"Yes, but I shouldn't have sprinted like that."

"You wouldn't have to, if he had waited to hold the door for you in the first place."

"Maybe."

"Not maybe," Aileen disagrees, stopping mid-pace and turning around to me. She's a lot taller than me, but so frighteningly slim that I was worried about her health when we first met. Her strawberry blonde hair stands in stark contrast to my dark brown waves, and while we share the same pale complexion, she never paints her lips red like I do. While we don't share their personality traits, I couldn't help but think of us as Snow White and Rose Red, a reference that escapes most people's understanding over here. The fairytale of those two little girls is a lot more famous in the old country. Nevertheless, Aileen felt flattered by the comparison.

"Stop beating yourself up about this," she says, locking me down with her green eyes. "That's exactly what these guys do. They fuck things up and make others feel bad about it. Men like him thrive on putting others down. Don't make it so easy for him."

She stops for a moment, gasping for air before she continues her rant.

"All those big names, the Waldorfs, the Kochs, the Conners," she lists. "They’re used to bully people like us. It’s normal to them."

"Conner?" I ask. "Isn’t their firm represented at this convention? Are they a big deal?"

"I’d say so!" Aileen exclaims. "Rich as fuck and still expanding. Their systems dominate half the country."

"Huh," I say, arching my eyebrows in a way that Aileen interprets at admiration.

"I bet they’re still asshole, just like the rest," she adds. "And whoever that guy was, he certainly deserves that title, too."

I sigh in agreement. She's right. Even if sprinting to catch up with him wasn't the smartest idea on my part, his behavior doesn't exactly merit praise either, especially the way he yelled at me. His reaction to our encounter just showed how much of an asshole he must be.

An attractive asshole, yes. Insanely handsome, tall, strong…

But still an asshole.

I can't let him get away with it that easily.

We make our way to the main hall of the venue, Aileen striding with her naturally confident gait alongside me. Her strong demeanor rubs off on me through association, and I edge my chin up an inch so I’m holding my head up just as high as she is.