“This is.”
“Hey, Ms. Alvarez, this is Dan from the Rugby Athletic Department. How are you?”
I’m literally on my way to see you right now. Why are you calling me?
“I’m well, thank you.”
“Awesome. So, listen—I was just calling because you’re scheduled for an interview here at three-thirty, yeah?”
I pull my phone away from my head, making sure I’m not the one losing it here.
Three ten.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, so listen, there’s been a little schedulingissue here, and unfortunately, we won’t be able to have you in until later. Could you come by around six?”
Immense disappointment and a flash flood of annoyance strikes me. I grind my teeth, biting down my impulsive response.
“Hello? Did I lose you?”
I go with the bad connection play. “Sorry, can you hear me now?”
“Yup, I can hear you. Will six work for you?”
“No problem. I can make that work.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Ms. Alvarez. Looking forward to meeting you later.”
I hang up without another word, drop my stuff at the front door and plop down on the couch with my arms crossed.
Three hours later, Chloe comes home, and I realize I haven’t moved. In fact, the longer I’ve sat here, the more pissed off I’ve become. I’m aware that my extremely low threshold for any slight inconvenience is a personality flaw of mine. I shut down and walk away the moment I’m pissed off, uncomfortable, upset, or annoyed, and I won’t spare a second thought about it. I have the ability to disassociate at the drop of a hat and I just don’t care.
“Hey, how was the interview?” Chloe chirps, coming to sit beside me on the couch.
“They called to reschedule for later,” I say, my mind still reeling.
“Lame. So when is it now?”
Lame indeed. This internship isn’t life or death. If I don’t get it, the world will keep turning. After wasting my time with Anne from the Women’s Volleyball department, and now Dan, I’m having a hard time still wanting to get this internship at all. I ignore the obvious reason. I’m not all that interested in any sport other than hockey.
I look at the time on my phone, and then at Chloe. “Tenminutes ago,” I say, lying down and covering myself with a blanket.
“Way to stick it to the man, Sav.” She smiles, patting my leg, and I snuggle into the couch a little deeper knowing that one of the few people in my life understands me without judgment. She could have chastised me. She could have scolded me and told me I’d never be one hundred percent happy, and that I couldn’t quit something every time I was slightly annoyed. But she didn’t. She pulls her hair out of her slick blonde ponytail, scratches her fingers through her head, lays down on my legs, and turns on the TV—getting in her motorcycle club fix for the day.
‘Maybe Dan’ calls once at six-fifteen and again at six-thirty. I ignore both calls. Sometime tomorrow, I might send an email making up an excuse, but for now, I turn my phone on silent.
“Oh, hey, I forgot to tell you.” I pat Chloe’s head and she sits up. “Guess who I ran into yesterday?”
“I hope it’s someone good.”
“Tucker.”
Her lips curl up and her head rears back. “Definitely not someone good. What did he want?”
“He claims he wants to get dinner and catch up.” I put finger quotes around the words ‘catch up’.
“But?”
