Right Person, Wrong Time

Note: contains mentions of cancer, loss, and anxiety. Please take care of your mental health.

The human brain is such a fickle thing. Its war with the body is a never-ending battle. And despite the familiarity, you’re never prepared for the aftermath of grief.

“Maybe instead of completely disregarding the order I gave you, actually do what you’ve been told?”

I turned to my coworker after gazing outside the window for too long. I almost rolled my eyes but I didn’t think that’d help my situation. “The design I submitted was truer to what the client wanted.”

He set his hands on my desk, framing my own and loomed over me. “Need I remind you that you’re toeing a precarious line here? That the future of your job is in my hands?”

No I didn’t. He reminded me every time I came into the office. What would it be today? I could imagine him choosing ways to insult me from a catalog he probably kept in his back pocket. Should I tell her how unoriginal her design was yesterday despite my peers’ approval? Will I give her a mound of assignments that are twice as much as our best members on the team get? Or maybe I’m feeling extra vicious today and should tell her that skirt is too short, or that her pimple is showing through her makeup? Keith never failed to completely vanish the smile I pasted on every morning I walked in.

I know not every man treated women this way. But sometimes it was really hard to believe, living alone with little to no human interaction other than the male colleagues at the firm and my female friends. When every time I came into contact with the male species I had to calm myself, or else that train of anxiety would leave the track and move on to panic attack lane.

Patience Jenna. You’ll leave soon enough.

The job I interviewed for should reply to me later today. Was it difficult to find a better position than this one? No. But it was difficult to find one where they weren’t friends or at least acquaintances with Keith, who’d rat me out to him as soon as I got up from the interview. Yes they were that immature. The male ego is a fragile thing. A previous colleague and Ex-member of TAGS took months for her to give up the hunt and move to a different city entirely.

But Betty’s lead is a woman. A foreign concept to Keith probably. It’s a relatively new start-up, and their office is small but at least I’d be respected. Given the opportunity to do the job I enjoyed without someone breathing down my neck.

I got up. “I’m done for the day.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Despite my thumping heartbeat, the thrill of enraging him fueled me.

“My shift just ended.” I gestured at the time.

“Nope. You’re not leaving until you fix what you made.”

My already shaking body shivered. How do people so easily deal with confrontation when my innate response was to shake? To be given this erratic heart that felt like it would burst out of me at any moment? If he wanted to scratch out the work I’d put in, I wouldn’t be a part of it.

I didn’t say anything. Nothing that danced on my tongue would be coherent. So I left.

“Don’t bother coming back!” He shouted.

The streets of New York were busy. They always were. But what most people overlooked were the hidden quiet spots within. People racing, cars weaving. They didn’t notice the places that stood serene, ethereal. I knew somewhere that’d have the capacity to mend at least a fraction of my heart.

A few blocks down, stood The Rabbit's Garden. It was more of a bohemian coffee shop, with critter figurines and vines everywhere, when you felt like having a latte within a grove. It got very few customers, because it was slightly hidden. You’d have to be looking for it to find it. Only those who drove slowly or got lost stumbled upon The Rabbit’s Garden. Magic like that existed if one were to just imagine.

It was a small shop. I liked to sit in one of the two outdoor tables, so I could watch the passerbys. One was already taken, and when I dragged the chair of the other to sit, the adjacent seat was moved and someone plopped down.

“Hey!” Just when I wanted to have some peace. “I got here first.” I couldn’t believe I was yelling at someone, a stranger no less, and my chest had no time to catch up.

The man smiled. Tilted his head. “Oh?”

“Yeah. What right do you have to sit somewhere occupied?” Just when I wanted to be alone, without anyone undermining me, belittling me. Was that too much to ask for?

“This chair isn’t occupied by anyone. Right?” He gestured to the seat he so rudely took.

“Yea- but I wanted to sit here,” I huffed. “This is the only table left.” Tears started to pool in my eyes.

I think he might have seen them. “Why can’t we sit together? Share a table? I just really want to people watch.” His eyes soften. “I promise I’m not a terrible bore,” and flashed his teeth.

I didn’t respond for a minute. He got up. “I’m sorry for making you uncom-”

“No, no.” I said. “Just had a terrible morning. And I took it on you. I’m sorry, please stay.” This man had done nothing wrong. He’d only been kind to me. Maybe a little cheeky but who could blame him?

The man was still, his grey eyes lingering on mine. “If you’re sure.”

I’m not entirely sure what changed my mind so quickly. Maybe it was how he got up without hesitation when he felt that he upset me. Or maybe it was how he actually listened to what I had to say. To have finally been heard was a beautiful thing. Was that pathetic of me? Could also have been his eyes or that stupid smirk, but I quickly buried those feelings.

We sat in silence after the waiter left. Usually it didn't bother me, but I could feel him watching me closely.

“So what ruined your morning?” Safe to say he didn’t like awkward silences.

“I have a really annoying coworker.” I sighed, “And he doesn’t like me.”

“Why do you think he doesn’t like you?” He sounded a little outraged, though surely that couldn’t be the case.

“Not a big fan of women in the workplace. Even though objectively my work is ten times more thought out than my colleagues’. I’m the only woman in the firm.”

“The only one? Truly?” And I didn’t blame him. It sounded and was unusual.

“Yeah. My friend used to work with me, but she left after she couldn’t handle it any longer.” I pause. “Pretty sure they hire a few to help their ‘image’ but none actually stay long-term.”

“So why don’t you leave?”

“Oh I will. Just haven’t heard back from the job I applied to.”

He leaned back into his chair like he could finally relax. “Well, I hope you get it.” He contemplated his clasped hands, “But even if you don’t, you have to leave. Tell me you understand your worth is much more than that?” A lock of golden waves touched his brow.

“Yeah. I know.”

It’s then that our drinks arrived. I sipped on mine, delighting in the cold sweet taste. The man smiled, with crinkles ghosting his eyes. He extended his hand. “Jacob.”

“Jenna.” His hand engulfed mine. Weird sensations blossomed in my chest. The good kind.

“Beautiful. I love that”, he grinned, and I really started getting attached to his face… It was so bright and free. Like an embodiment of sunshine and light.

Maybe I was wrong about him. What would have happened if he just went along with his day, and had not been patient with me?

“So what brings you here?”, I ask.

“Well, I came to unwind. To stop thinking about everything I guess.”

I sip my coffee. “Now it's your turn. Tell me all your woes, oh kind fellow!” I gesture to him dramatically, a grin splitting my face. I’d never felt so safe to converse with someone I’d just met. At that moment, I wanted him to feel the same.

His dimples appeared. Oh my god he had dimples. His little flush spread everywhere, along the contours of his face. But he quickly recovered.

“I...I’ve got something that has no cure.” His gaze hardened on the table as if it did something to offend him.

I screeched to a halt. Here I was joking around, complaining about work when he suffered more than I did. What was wrong with me? “What? Are you alright?” I whispered. It was a stupid question to ask but I had no other response. My heart started to flutter.

He sighed. “Definitely okay. I mean, it depends on your definition of alright. It’s just my health. I've got a tumor up here.” He tapped his skull. “The doctors keep telling me to try this or take that, but nothing's been working. My health is stagnant, not even declining.” I felt a pit in my stomach. His eyes lingered. "But don't pity me like everyone else."

“Maybe give it another chance,” I say desperately. “You never know. Miracles do happen Mr. Jacob.” I gave him a small smile, twirling a strand of my dark hair. I had no idea what to say or do, but I knew I wanted to cheer him up. Turn him back into the sly fox who sat at my table. I knew how it felt when everything around you spiraled out of control, into a place you couldn’t follow.

“It’s Mr. Allen actually. Jacob Allen,” he chuckled. We were similar in that regard, burrowing our wounds with laughter.

We talked for hours, no topic was off-limits. He asked if I ever drank hot coffee, and when my answer was a resounding no, he laughed. He couldn’t see coffee any other way than bitter, black, completely unsweet. Then I proceeded to ask if he ever planned to enjoy life, to which he gave multiple examples of how he gets his ‘fun’. (Read: they included trimming his lawn, going on runs, and reading the NEWSPAPER of all things) But I digress, he was a joy to converse with. We saw a woman walking her poodle, and both wore pretty much identical outfits, which started a discussion of how pets evolve to look like their owners. Or was it the other way round?

With a darkening sky, and the disastrous morning forgotten, it was time to say goodbye. I didn’t want to, and my heart sank at the realization. I’d never connected to someone so deeply and so quickly as I had with my stranger.

I got up. “I got to get going. I might get an email later, and if they reject me I’d rather not cry in public,” I mock-laugh.

Jacob didn’t take it as a joke though. “Jenna, you will get it. I have a feeling. And even if you don’t,” he took my hand with a squeeze, “you’ll get through it.”

I looked up into his eyes. The warm outdoor lights reflected in his irises, making them honey-glowed. How I wished I could drown in them. The beat of a drum sounded inside me.

“Thank you.” I tried to say what I couldn’t. You’re amazing. You’ve been kind to me when no one has.

Kiss me. Please.

I don’t know how long we stood there, committing each other to memory, but next thing I knew I was across the street. If I had stayed any longer I would have never left.

I unlocked my phone, despite not wanting to know until I got home, but it was the first thing I saw, glaring at me, a conjuring of fate:

Dear Jenna,

I am writing this to formally accept your offer of employment…

Light. Absolute lightness overcame my body. Helium in my veins.

I turned back, just to glimpse him, to tell him that everything was going to be okay, that we’ll get through it. That he was right. If he could find the joy in a cloud of grey, I could too. I didn’t have a cure for him but we’ll find a way somehow, I wasn’t going to leave him-

But when I turned to look at the table we just vacated, where we shared more than probably anyone who’s ever sat in the same place shared, he was already gone.

I sprinted to the cafe, just as the waiter came to collect our empty glasses. “Miss, can you tell me where he went?” I asked out of breath.

“Who?”

“The man who sat across from me. The one I was talking to?” Why was she looking at me strangely? Like she was completely bewildered?

“Ma’am,” she began, as if trying to calm an agitated horse, “you sat here alone.”

The audacity! Trying to make me seem crazy? Thump. Thump. “No. There was a man across from me. Blonde hair, grey eyes,” as if the description would help her remember or slow my racing heartbeat.

She looked at me with pity. Extended the tray she was holding. There was only one glass. “Sorry, ma’am.”

***

There was only one glass.

I walked the dark streets, trying to unscramble the thoughts in my head. It felt like bees were buzzing inside, wanting to be let out. Where did he go? I refused to believe the waitress. I did not sit there for hours talking to myself. In my state of shock I couldn’t remember if I checked her other hand. Or maybe she set his mug on the other table. Surely there was a reasonable explanation?

I stopped. I needed to get home and with all my thoughts consuming me, I had lost where I was.

I couldn’t tell you what overcame my body next. I could never rely on it, because it seemed to have this sense of insisting on betraying me. A struggle between body and mind, and it seemed to win every match. Pure instinct dragged my feet. Shrubs crunched under me, and the walk felt endless. Until I halted. I felt my body urging me, so I grabbed my phone. Lit the flashlight. And read the inscription.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF

JACOB ALLEN

1980-2005

BELOVED SON

Maybe it knew of my bottomless need to find him. To be close to him again. To have my heart be in tandem with his one last time. To find its pair so it could finally, finally slow.

It was only a warp in time that tethered us. But it righted itself, and unraveled. For the first time, I had experienced something so visceral, but my chest was still. Somehow it knew.

This gaping hole wasn't going to end me. It was massive, and heavy. My knees could barely hold me up as I walked home. With each step, I’d gained another memory. His smile. His golden hair. His soft gaze. The sound of his laughter. Light. But it was weighing me down.

I fell as soon as I pushed the door. The weight was too much. My heart ached.

But it was the last time it would grieve, because light and golden hair had found a corner inside it. The grey would inevitably find its way back in, but the light wouldn’t succumb. I’d found a kernel of hope, and would continue to find light when at times it felt there was only dark.