Young Writers Society

Lacey had begun to tire of her job after a week at it. She hadn’t really made any friends. They were all older, and no one ever talked to her or asked her how she was. She told herself that it would get better. That it had to. By the second week, she’d taken to eating lunch by herself at her desk. She was uninterested in hearing what her coworker’s spouses had made for dinner the night before, or how their children had done in their soccer games. Kelly intimidated her. Sometimes she’d take to watching Jack, whose desk was visible from hers. He always seemed to be off in his own world. Occasionally, Jack would catch her looking, and she’d quickly turn away, feeling her cheeks turn red hot. But one day he smiled at her. Still, they never spoke. Lacey often had crushes in high school and college, but she’d never been in love. Never even had a boyfriend or even kissed another boy. She rarely admitted this to anyone. She was almost twenty-three and it was starting to get embarrassing. What if Jack somehow found out? He probably wouldn’t want anything to do with her.

By November, she’d been in the job for two months, and she had begun to settle into a comfortable but tedious routine. Go to work. Go home. Take a bath. Sometimes she’d walk to the bookstore or to the second-hand clothing shop on main street, but she rarely bought anything. It was starting to get cold. Not cold enough to snow, but cold enough that Lacey had to take out all of her winter clothes. Growing up, she had always loved the holidays. Her dad was four hours away and he’d been asking her repeatedly if she would be coming home, but thought of being criticized by the both of them made her think she’d better off alone. The truth was that nothing ever had been quite the same since her mother had killed herself. She still loved her father, but he’d changed, and not for the better. And Annie seemed to bring out the worst in him.

One day at lunch, she’d decided to give her coworkers another chance, and one of them was babbling about their family’s Thanksgiving plans.

“I don’t have anything going on,” Lacey said.

“Oh,” the coworker said, before changing the subject. No invitation, no empathetic remarks, nothing to acknowledge what she had been trying to imply. Lacey stood up, returned to desk, and begun to cry. Maybe someone would notice, talk to her, ask her what was wrong, but no one did.

On Thanksgiving she had a turkey sandwich and watched Gone With the Wind. She still remembered the first time so well. It was the summer before her freshman year of high school. It was a warm night, and the family had just spent the day at the beach. Nate had a Little League game, so her father had gone to watch, and it was just Lacey and her mother.

“Honey, I want to show you my very favorite film,” she’d said. That night, they’d watched the first part, and they’d watched the second part the next day. Lacey remembered liking it, even if she didn’t fully understand then what it had all been about. Lacey understood now. Her mother was a lot like Scarlett in that every day of her life had brought new, sometimes seemingly insurmountable challenges.

As God is my witness, I’m going to live through this and when it’s all over, I’ll never be hungry again.

Lacey felt it herself too. But she was hardly going through any trauma. This all was temporary. It had to be, anyway.

Two weeks into December, the office had its Christmas party, and Lacey went because she had nothing else to do. She spent most of the night mingling awkwardly at the edge of the table and joining conversational circles in which she contributed nothing. The playlist was bad, and the snacks had clearly been bought from a grocery store. Lacey resolved to get another cookie and cup of juice, and then she’d head home.

As she stood in line, she realized she was accidentally cutting Kelly off.

“Sorry,” she said, laughing.

“That’s alright,” Kelly responded. Soon they off to the side, chatting like they were old friends. “So, how do you like it here so far?”

“It’s, you know… a job.” Lacey’s eyes drifted to the wall, where she saw Jack staring at the two of them. She could feel herself blushing as she turned back to Kelly. “They haven’t fired me yet.”

This made Kelly laugh. The two stood there for a moment, both unsure of what to say to the other. Kelly looked at her Christmas tree cookie, then at Lacey’s wreath. “It’s funny,” she said, “how you never see Hanukkah cookies.”

Lacey found herself getting defensive. “Are you Jewish?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then why do you care?” It came across as a lot harsher than Lacey had intended. But she was tired of always having these conversations around the holidays, how, in the name of “political correctness”, it was somehow offensive to say Merry Christmas or even talk about it. At least the office was having a Christmas party rather than a “Holiday” party, and Lacey didn’t want this to be ruined.

“Lacey, I’m just making conversation.” Kelly gave her a look. She opened her mouth to say something, and instead wandered off in a different direction. As Lacey watched her leave, she realized she’d made a mistake. She’d been too rude. She’d have to apologize. But not now. Kelly didn’t want to talk to her. Instead she walked to her desk and took a forceful, deliberate bite of her cookie. Then, she began to cry. It wasn’t long before she heard someone approach her.

It was Jack. “Is everything okay?” He asked.

Lacey shrugged. Jack looked over to the adjacent desk chair. “Do you think Kelly will mind?”

Lacey vaguely shook her head. Jack sat down beside her, and she waited for him to say something, because she certainly had nothing.

Then, he spoke. “You know, I didn’t mean to overhear, but I did catch a little bit of that conversation. And, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you did anything wrong.”

“I should apologize,” Lacey responded.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Let her be mad.” As he looked at her, she noticed that his eyes were a deep brown. Lacey had always liked blue eyes on men, but the color of his were so rich that she was drawn to them all the same. Then, he changed the subject. “How’s the cookie?”

“It’s really terrible, actually,” Lacey said, laughing. “I do bake. I could have made something if I’d known.”

“Well, next year then,” he said with a warm smile. Any hope that she wasn’t going to fall for this man was gone. Then, he bit his lip. “Um, has anyone ever told you that you look like Teresa Wright?”

“Who’s that?”

“Old Hollywood actress,” Jack responded. He showed her a picture on his phone. Lacey’s hair was longer and a lighter auburn, but otherwise, the resemblance was uncanny.

“Yeah, I can see it.”

“I love old movies,” Jack said, and Lacey could tell that he was blushing. “But so far, I haven’t met anyone that wants to watch anything made before twenty years ago.”

“I love old movies. I used to watch them all the time with my mom.”

Jack smiled.

“I should go though,” Lacey said. Better to leave before she messed this up.

“Can I walk you to your car?”

“Sure.”And just like that they were leaving together. Jack even helped Lacey with her coat. She didn’t know that was something that guys still did. Her car was only a block away. Once they got there, Jack opened the door for her. He stood there for a moment, hesitating.

“Lacey? Would you maybe want to go out with me some time?” He asked nervously. “We could go out to dinner, or to a bar, or I don’t know. Whatever you want to do. Whatever the hell there is to do in Calumet.”

Lacey could scarcely believe what she was hearing. “Yes.”