Page 17 of You Will Never Be Me
I can’t help smirking. “Amen.”
8
ASPEN
Is it just me? Maybeit’s my mom brain forgetting everything, making mistakes in my everyday life? Ever since I had the twins, it’s like part of my brain shut down and refused to get back into action, and after having Sabine, it’s become even worse. This morning, I kept wandering around the house, frantically looking for my phone, before Noemie pointed out that my phone was in my hand the entire time. It’s getting kind of scary. Maybe I should get checked out.
But this, this isn’t my mistake. I know it isn’t, because I’ve double- and triple-checked my calendar. I show the receptionist my Google Calendar, where the appointment had been locked in weeks ago.
“See?” I say, baring my teeth at her in what I hope passes as a smile and bouncing Sabine on my left hip. “It says here: ‘Appointment with Sunflower Cheeks rep’ at nine a.m.”
The receptionist meets my smile and raises me with an evenbrighter, faker one. “Yes, I see that, ma’am, but unfortunately, it’s not in our calendar. So there must’ve been a miscommunication.”
Tears clog my throat, and I have to take a moment to swallow the lump back down and make sure my voice comes out even. “Um, could you check again? For my name? It’s just—I’ve been really looking forward to this meeting. I’m such a fan of Sunflower Cheeks, and I think we have a great opportunity to do something amazing together.”
Sabine twists in my arm, and I nearly drop her. I drop my phone instead so I can catch hold of her with both arms. The phone makes a deafening clatter as it hits the floor. Heads turn.
The receptionist sighs audibly. “What’s your full name?”
“Aspen Palmer.” I pick up my phone. Great. There’s a crack going across the screen. I stuff it into my purse and resume bouncing Sabine, praying that she doesn’t start fussing.
“Oh,” the receptionist says. It comes out with an undertone that makes me freeze.
“What is it?”
When she looks up at me, what little traces of sympathy the receptionist had are gone. Her expression is a cold mask. “Your appointment to meet with Ms.Chang was two days ago. I remember now. You didn’t show up.”
“What? No, that’s impossible, that—” I struggle to get my phone out of my bag one-handed. “In my calendar, it—”
The receptionist presses her mouth into a thin line and shakes her head, clearly giving zero shits about what was in my calendar. I stop myself and take a deep breath. “Okay, um, clearly there was a miscommunication. Can we reschedule? I really think that I could contribute a lot to this company. I have over five million followers—”
“I understand, but you missed your appointment, and Ms.Chang insists that all of our brand representatives work with a high standard of professionalism. She also mentioned that your accounts have a really high number of trolls. I’m afraid that at this time, she’s made it clear that she is no longer interested in pursuing a partnership.”
The words land like a slap straight across my face. My cheeks burn so hot that for a ridiculous moment, I wonder if I’ve developed a fever right then and there. I feel so exposed, like everybody in the room is watching my every move. A quick glance about the office space confirms my fears; there is a handful of other people in the waiting room, and I can tell they’re all secretly listening in. I catch a couple of looks being exchanged, and oh my god, I have never felt such humiliation. Part of me wants to stay and explain, once more, that it isn’t my fault, that I didn’t mean to miss our appointment, that I pride myself on behaving professionally, that—
But I know that they’ll all end up sounding like excuses. I know that nothing I say can salvage this. Nothing can get me into a meeting with Sunflower Cheeks. I’ve probably been blacklisted by them. The fastest-growing producer of locally sourced organic baby foods, and I’ve managed to royally mess things up with them. How did this happen? I manage to choke out a small, “Thank you, and please let me know if she changes her mind,” before scurrying out of the office building with Sabine in my arms.
My breath comes in and out in wobbly sips as I make my way back to the car. Thankfully, Sabine doesn’t fight me as I strap her into her car seat. Maybe she can sense that I’m this close to breaking down and is deciding to give me a break. I get into the driver’sseat and release the world’s longest, heaviest sigh. Then I open up my email and do a search for Sunflower Cheeks. I find the email setting up the meeting and yep, the receptionist was right; the appointment really was set for two days ago. It’s on me.
With a frustrated cry, I toss my phone to the passenger seat and bury my face in my hands. How the hell did I mess things up so badly? Did I miss something somehow? Fear stabs into my chest like an ice pick. I don’t understand how this is happening. Did someone…
No. It’s not possible. It was my mistake. I was careless. I’ve been distracted, I know. I should’ve known better. I should’ve cross-checked it with my emails. I shouldn’t have—I should’ve…
So many “shoulds” and “shouldn’t haves” cramming through my head, fighting for domination. All of them amounting to the same conclusion: it was all my fault.
No. It’s not all my fault. The receptionist had mentioned a second factor in their decision-making process, one that probably played an even bigger part than me missing the appointment.The troll comments.The thought lands like an asteroid, cratering my brain, obliterating everything else. Nothing else matters. The fact is, if I had no troll comments, I could miss any meeting and they would still be begging me to partner up with them. I have over five million bloody followers, for god’s sake! They should be coming to me; they should be working their schedules around mine. But they’re not, and it’s because of the damn trolls.
There’s a text message notification from my phone.
I feel like you know something you’re not telling me. Call me back.
Wincing, I hit Delete and put my phone on Silent mode before calling my assistant, Liv.
God, it’s a struggle keeping my voice calm.
“Hi, Aspen! What’s up?” she chirps.
Oh, if I could scream at her. But no. I’m nice. I’m always nice. It’s part of my brand. All Day Aspen never loses her temper. “Hey, Liv. So I just came out of a meeting…” Okay, so technically it’s a meeting that never happened. “And they mentioned the troll comments on my accounts.” I let the silence hang for an uncomfortably long time before saying, “We’ve been over this. Is there a reason why you’re not performing your task? Can I help in any way?” Technically, part of Liv’s job is also overseeing my schedule, but after everything that happened, I became too paranoid to ask Liv to go through my calendar. Instead, I’ve been relying on myself to keep up with my schedule, which I guess is proving to be a mistake.
