Page 48 of The Quiet After The Fall

“Oh—I—uh, actually⁠—”

“I’m messing with you,” she says, nudging my shoulder with hers. “You must be sweating, though.”

“I really am.”

“There’s a bathroom on the way if you want to ditch the blouse.”

“Sadly, I don’t have anything under it.”

“Ah.” She considers this. “Guess you’re shit out of luck.”

I laugh again, and it’s easier this time. I think the first one loosened the knots in my chest.

The Starbucks is mostly empty, just a bored barista and a guy half asleep over his laptop in the corner. We order iced coffees and find a spot at the counter along the window, our cups between us.

“So what brought you back?” Gia asks.

I think about how to answer that. The honest version is too long and complicated. She doesn’t need to know about the accident and Owen and my family history. “Needed a new direction,” I finally say. “Law’s always pulled at me. This felt like the least terrifying entry point.”

She nods, and I’m grateful she doesn’t ask for more. “I picked paralegal because my last old lady got really sick and I watched her family steamroll each other over her estate. I wished I could have done more to help carry out her wishes. Plus, I figure if I’m going to be in the room for all the conversations, I might as well know what they’re talking about.”

“That makes a ton of sense.”

She leans in. “And I’m tired of wiping asses.”

“Yeah,” I say with a laugh. “I’d have to get paid an exorbitant amount of money to do that unless it was for someone I loved. Like, I mean loved A LOT.”

Gia points at me. “Exactly. And Miriam is lovely, but she’s not that lovely.”

“Miriam’s the woman you work for?”

“Miriam is eighty-three, has a PhD in art history, and an opinion about everything.” She pauses to take a sip. “I actually do love her a lot. But the ass wiping still requires compensation.”

I’m laughing again. It keeps catching me off guard, how easy it comes out around her.

She stirs her coffee with the straw. “What do you do? Besides this.”

“Front desk at the Ashford Inn.”

“Hotel work is brutal,” she says. “People are their worst selves when they travel.”

“You get used to it.” I wrap both hands around my cup. “Or maybe you just get very good at smiling through the bullshit. I don’t know which is worse.”

She nods in agreement. “How long have you worked there?”

“Too long,” I say. “But hopefully not forever.”

She raises her iced coffee like a toast. “To hopefully not forever.”

I tap mine against hers.

I make it through the entire week without a single disaster, which at this point in my life qualifies as a victory.

Four classes down. Notes taken, reading done, one case summary submitted before the deadline. When I finally close my laptop on Thursday night, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. Pride.

Gia texts me around nine, and it takes me a moment to stop cheese grinning. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone text me besides the person I’m trying to forget.

Gia: Miriam had her kids over today and I was able to leave there earlier than I thought.