There is no “I” in TEAM, but there is no “WE” either. There is, however, an “M” and an “E.” And that spells ME. And that spells how I feel I’m doing everything by myself, on my own, with you just coasting by.
I won’t be able to get this done on my own. Please don’t drag your feet anymore. I really want to cross the finish line.
All names, positions and situations have been changed for reasons you know of. In other words, this is a work of fiction based on half-truths.
“Yvaine, I’d like you to meet our new client, Harry Barker.”
Oh no, more work, I thought. I stood up from my desk and faced my boss. “Good afternoon Mr. Salvatore. Good to meet you, Mr. Bar…”
I knew him. I knew who this guy was. And judging by the look on his face, I think he knew me too.
“Mr. Barker,” my boss glared at me as he completed this client’s name for me. There was immense disappointment in his eyes. This must be a huge client, yes.
“Yes, of course, Mr. Barker,” I smiled. Oh, Mr. Barker. Didn’t you have brown wavy hair that touched your shoulders? Didn’t you have sun-kissed cheeks? Didn’t you wear a white button-down shirt that was crumpled?
“How do you do, Yvaine,” Mr. Barker said as he shook my hand. SHAZAM. I thought my panties would fall off by themselves.
Mr. Salvatore turned to Mr. Barker. “You know her? This is Yvaine Sanders, Account Manager.”
“We’ve met,” Mr. Barker nodded at Mr. Salvatore. Our hands were still together. Great. I slipped my hand back into my pocket and smiled awkwardly.
Mr. Salvatore laughed. “Good, good! Yvaine is very hands on with this account, so expect her to take very good care of you. How are you two connected?” He folded his arms and stared at me. Oh, I was expected to answer that question.
I started. “Well, we met a–”
“A year ago, when I was still in another department,” Mr. Barker answered for me. “Yvaine was part of a tour group I led.”
FARK. He remembered. I wonder what else he recalled. Mr. Salvatore raised his eyebrows at me. “Yes, sir. That is correct,” I confirmed. “Mr. Barker was a very good tour guide.” A super sexy tour guide with the body of a surfer. Not that I’ve seen it. It was just so in my imagination.
“Well,” Mr. Salvatore clapped his hands together. “Take him out to lunch, Ms. Sanders, and then take him through the historical reels this afternoon, yes?”
“Yes sir,” I answered. Just the two of us? In the itsy bitsy viewing room? Crap crap crap. And there was lunch to deal with first. A martini for lunch was too early, right? I needed alcohol to calm my nerves. Okay maybe not alcohol. I needed a huge kickass burger. I needed comfort food.
“I will be dropping by your office after the viewing, Mr. Salvatore,” Mr. Barker said. Mr. Salvatore waved goodbye then walked out.
“Yvaine,” Mr. Barker said softly.
“Mr. Barker,” I replied. Oh oh oh, Mr. Barker.
“Please. It’s Harry,” he smiled.
I nodded. And tried not to hyperventilate.
“So, where do we go for lunch?,” he asked. He leaned forward. “I saw a really awesome burger place around the corner. I’ve been thinking about it the whole time I was meeting with Mr. Salvatore this morning. Think we can head there?”
Hot damn, I thought. The guy with the pale skin, slicked back hair, the neatly pressed jacket and tie and the shiny shoes disappeared. Before me was greasy-haired Harry, he of the white crumpled shirt and sun-kissed skin.
“I can’t think of a better place,” I replied.
As we stepped out of the building, I started running through the corporate policy manual in my head.
and the fairy lights on the doorway
chunky monkey on a silver spoon
and a pint good for one.
it’s just me
and my socks, striped
like my pajamas, comforting
loose, perfect.
the glow of the television
guides my every spoonful
the dark is my blanket
my fairy lights companions
it’s just me tonight
no red dress to fit into
no stilettos or red toenails
it’s just me
for me
i need to breathe after all.
When my 3-year-old daughter said “Mom, your hotcakes are delicious. The flavors are clean and simple”, I knew we were watching too much Top Chef. It warmed my heart anyway.
And now I’m looking for all sorts of excuses to see you again.
I like my long hair. I like that it can hide the blush from my daydreams.
Intriguing
Beguiling
Teasing
?
Falling
Sighing
Flirting
Controlling
Releasing
!
Hiding
Giggling
Sharing
,
Leaving
Regretting
Returning
Remembering
.
Oftentimes, I feel infinite.
The other half of it, I’m scared out of my wits that I’ll run out of time for all the things I still want to do.
Starlit Whispers 
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