I met Karyn Gold when I was twenty-nine years young in August of 2000 during my second year working for Pedichairs, my first job out of college. She was just twenty-one years old when she was hired to be the company’s receptionist. Her thin, healthy frame, olive skin, dark brown almond-shaped eyes, and long, straight brown hair gave her instant popularity with the male employees at the company. Although fully aware of her allure, I didn’t give her much thought. After what happened with Sara, dating anyone I worked with was no longer an option. There was too much at stake professionally for me.
Each day, Karyn retrieved the faxes and mail we received, sorted them by recipient, and placed them in our personal in-boxes behind her desk. My office was located upstairs, and it was quite a jaunt to the receptionist desk to get my mail. Since the customer service department was also downstairs, I would only check my mailbox when I had face time with the customer service reps. Karyn was usually at lunch when I retrieved mail from my box, but on the rare occasions I ran into her, we always exchanged pleasantries. For the most part, my mail usually contained junk faxes advertising something or other. It seemed like the Company spent more money on the paper for these faxes than we did using it to make actual copies. After two years of receiving enough junk faxes to fill an entire trash bin, they became super annoying. One of these junk faxes in particular put me over the edge—an invitation to take part in a round table discussion with the Ambassador of Bangladesh to the United States. It just boggled my mind that someone would send random faxes to anyone without any sense of a target audience—desperate for someone to show an interest in their event. It only begged the question—what would happen if the person unwillingly sent it to someone who had a beef with Bangladesh? I really burned to know the answer to that question. Since everyone in my department was out to lunch, it presented an opportune time to call the toll-free number to obtain more information about the ambassador’s visit.
“Hello? May I help you?” Answered a very delicate voice from most likely an elderly woman.
“Good day to you, ma’am! Thank you for taking my call! Why, yes…yes you can indeed!” I said as excitement boomed forth from my lungs. “It’s with pleasant surprise that our great Ambassador from Bangladesh is coming to visit us this upcoming Tuesday! Is this true? I just received a fax informing me of this glorious event!”
“Why it is certainly true!” She confirmed as she mimicked my excitement.
“Splendid! May I ask what time he’ll be arriving?” I requested in a snobbish tone that suggested I had a cup of tea in my other hand. “It says the discussion commences at nine-thirty in the morning, but I am left to wonder if this actually means nine-thirty sharp? Could you please tell me what time he’ll be actually arriving at the event?”
“Actually, he is scheduled to arrive at approximately nine-ten that morning. Will that work for you?”
“Are you pulling my leg?”
“Certainly not, Sir. The round table discussion is slated to start at exactly nine-thirty.”
“I cannot believe this! This fits right into my schedule!” I exclaimed triumphantly. “May I ask how he’ll be arriving? Will he be arriving by bus to the event, possibly?”
“No…he usually travels by limousine.” She politely replied.
“How splendid is that! A limo! May I ask would I be able to see him in clear view if I showed up at let’s say…nine-ten in the morning?”
“Absolutely! Without a doubt!”
“Important question for you.” I stated in a sudden change of tone.
“Yes, Sir?”
“Does he usually travel with anyone like a…well you know…like, let’s say, a bodyguard?”
“No…he typically travels alone.”
“How great is that?” I joyously replied. “You’re makin’ this so easy for me! By the way, who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”
“This is Darlene McKenzie.”
“Ah! Darlene Mah…Kenzie! You’re makin’ my day! Please know I am a huge supporter of our great Ambassador from Bangladesh and his wonderful policies!” I relayed without any idea, besides eating and sleeping, what those policies were.
“Oh! We are so very happy to hear that, Sir! We’re really excited to have you come join us for the round table discussion! I’m certain he will be most pleased to have you in attendance at the event!”
“Who are you talkin’ to?” Inquired Karyn who suddenly appeared in my office.
I waved hello to her as I cupped the receiver, handed her the fax, and then continued.
“If I may Darlene, I would like to request a seat at the roundest part of the table if you don’t mind. Would I have to pay extra for that?”
“Oh, dear…I believe you’re taking the event far too literally, Sir. No one will be seated at a round table per se…I’m afraid it doesn’t quite work that way.”
“Darlene.” I paused. “Darlene. Mah…Kenzie.”
“Yes?”
“You mean to tell me there’s not going to be a round table…at the round table discussion?”
“Well, Sir…there may be an actual round table there. I couldn’t tell you for certain, but I could find out for you.”
“Darlene.” I said again to create suspense only I seemed to need. “Darlene. Mah…Kenzie.”
“Yes?”
“Are you tryin’ to pull a fast one? Cause this all sounds crazy to me!” I said as I paused to hold back my laughter. “You sent me a fax tellin’ me there’s gonna be a round table discussion…but without a round table? I mean what’s really goin’ on here? Is this some sort of scam? Does the Ambassador know about this? Has he been informed of this development? I mean…this might ruin my plans entirely.”
“Well, Sir…I think you’re misunderstanding the nature of our event.”
“Ugh…maybe there’s a way around the round table. I guess I could live without there being a round table at the round table discussion. I just hope it isn’t an issue with the Ambassador and he doesn’t decide to cancel. I’ve waited so long to see him—I’d be devastated if that happened.” I elaborated with a greater prank purpose in mind. “Just so we’re clear, can you please allow me to recap what I’ve learned?”
“Absolutely, Sir.”
“The Ambassador will be arriving alone, by limousine, at nine-ten on Tuesday morning regardless of there not being a round table at the round table discussion. Is that correct?”
“That’s correct, Sir.”
“I guess this is still doable.” I sighed. “Would it then be safe to say when he arrives that I’ll have a clear shot at him? I mean of him? I’d hate to miss him.”
“Yes…you would.” She replied with a hint of hesitance.
“Wonderful! I will see him at the event then. Thank you so much! You’ve provided me with a treasure trove of information!”
“Very well! We look forward to having you!”
“Oh, I had just one more question,” I said, unsatisfied Darlene had understood the nature of my ridiculous call.
“Yes?”
“By any chance, would you happen to know, if he’ll be wearing a bulletproof vest?” I asked—if Darlene didn’t get the picture by now, she never would.
“Why are you asking these questions?” She broke in a distressed tone.
When the tone of her voice went from extreme excitement to grave concern, I could no longer hide my laughter and quickly hung up the phone. After I hung up, I visualized this obscure ambassador feeling a sudden sense of great importance. I then imagined him running out of his limo when he arrived, flanked by secret service, into an event that only had three people in attendance. If you had to promote this kind of thing via fax, you were basically begging people to give a shit. Since I despised politicians anyway, I felt good about my stupid prank, hoping it gave them something to consider before they sent junk mail to just anyone. As these thoughts went through my mind, at the end of my rectangular desk stood my audience of one with her hands on her hips.
“What was that all about?” Karyn asked.
“Hey! You know I’m an accountant, right?” I grinned. “I need some excitement in my life!”
“Is this what you do with all the faxes I put in your in-box?”
“I wish! Just look at it this way—that’s one less fax you’ll have to worry about now. You’re welcome.”
“Yeah…until the next junk one comes through.”
“Don’t despair!” I teased. “I might have a few more prank calls left in me.”
I could hear Karyn giggling even after she exited my prank phone call laboratory. I then went right back to the grind, even forgetting all about the call I made. The last prank call I conjured up happened in my teens—when I pretended to be a radio host. I usually examined the phone book like a thesaurus, in search of the perfect victim for my prank radio station call. Trivial Pursuit cards were then used for my questions to the unsuspecting soul who dared to believe I was Crazy Davey from KRAP radio. Even after I pronounced my station as ‘Crap’ radio, they still bought in. When the first guy answered the question correctly and thought he won a trip to Hawaii, I then upped the ante—I offered fifty thousand dollars in exchange for the Hawaii trip if he answered the next question correctly. The human-animal was indeed a greedy one as he jumped all over the chance to win fifty-grand. In the end, I informed him that his answer was incorrect, but to not despair—he would not be walking away empty-handed. When I relayed he would be receiving a complimentary frisbee, he hung up the phone. I guess going from a trip to Hawaii to fifty-grand to a frisbee was too much for him to handle. My prank calls weren’t always of the radio station variety. I’ve called a locksmith asking if they could make me a key…for my neighbor’s house. I once called a trophy shop to see if they could make one for a girl I was dating that read “My 500th Chick”. I even called a poor soul with the last name of Chinchilla and constantly repeated his own name to him for no good reason for a solid five minutes before he finally hung up on me. Although I’ve done my fair share of prank calls over the years without incident, karma always had a way of coming back around to set me straight. The morning after my prank call to the Ambassador, Karyn, who never left the receptionist area, made another surprise appearance.
“Landyn, you’re not going to believe this.” She said tersely with furrowed eyebrows.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“There’s an FBI agent in Mr. Sherman’s office. I think it’s related to the phone call you made yesterday.”
“Yeah, right.” I snickered.
“I’m totally serious. I just wanted to give you a heads up. I won’t say anything.” Karyn said, then vanished from my view as quickly as she appeared.
This sounds too ridiculous to be real, I thought. For all I knew, Karyn was pranking me. Twenty minutes later, my manager, Gina Arthur then entered my office. Her presence was ordinary, but the timing of her visit suggested a group effort to prank the prank caller. Gina was a short, robust, feisty, light red-haired, blue-eyed spitfire, who just joined the fifty club. Her brutal honesty could always be counted on, and I trusted her more than anyone at the company. She went to the mattresses for her employees daily, but if this FBI story turned out to be true, I deserved to be suffocated with a pillow instead. When she waltzed in with a suspicious smile, I didn’t know what to believe.
“What’s goin’ on?” I asked to stir the pot.
“Someone from the FBI just left Sherman’s office.” She disclosed. “They said they traced a call from someone at our company threatening the life of the ambassador from Singapore or Bangkok…or some other country from God knows where.”
“What? You gotta be kidding. That’s just plain crazy.” I replied. “Bangkok is a city, isn’t it?”
“Hell if I know, but it sure sounds crazy doesn’t it, Pinky.” She said as she planted herself in the chair next mine on the right side of my desk.
When she called me “Pinky”, it could only mean one thing—she thought I was the prank caller. My namesake was earned though when I took a comedy sketch too far depicting the company’s Controller and Gina’s direct boss, Christopher Painter. He was a gray-haired, tall, lanky, spectacled, dry-humored, and abhorrently serious man who constantly barked orders unseen from his office. I only had an office because I made collection calls and needed privacy for them, but the rest of the accounting team resided just outside Painter’s office. One day when he headed out for the bank to make a deposit, I ventured into his office and began to mimic his harsh tone, yapping random ridiculous orders to entertain Gina and the staff accountants. When I saw that he left behind his glasses, I didn’t hesitate to put them on. I then called for the team to come inside so I could give a more vivid portrayal of him, even performing his entire repertoire of bossy mannerisms, much to their delight. After my five-minute act concluded, I took his glasses off, carefully placed them where I found them, then retreated back to my office. The following day, I called in sick due to a mysterious case of pink eye, a condition that oddly but fittingly enough, Mr. Painter also had. I took one important life lesson with me that day after becoming Pinky—honesty was the only choice I ever had.
“I apologize, Gina…I couldn’t help it. It was a fax I received promoting a round table discussion with the Ambassador to Bangladesh. I thought it was junk, so I called the number to have some fun with it. You know how much I hate those things.”
“Well, they have no idea who made the call—we have too many phone lines.” She laughed. “Can you please stop yourself next time? Chris is gonna hold me responsible!”
“I would never allow you to take the fall for me. I promise my prank calling days are over. If I knew you could get in trouble or thought the FBI would get involved, I would’ve never thought of making the call. You know how much my career means to me.” I responded with both embarrassment and regret. “I’ve been going to school at night for nearly two years now—it would all be a waste of time over something so foolish.”
“I know and appreciate all you do for the department—even the entertainment. We all need it sometimes.” She giggled as she stood up. “Don’t worry…the coast is clear. Now get back to work, Ambassador.”
The mundane nature of accounting brought out an eccentric side of me. In the eyes of the general populace, we were boring math nerds who carried calculators and pencils in our pocket protectors. Although I was an outside-the-box thinker and didn’t fit the stereotype, I also didn’t want to lose being an accountant. After working forty hours a week and going to night school four times a week, I needed an outlet at times—I just took this escape too far. If I made that call after 9-11, the FBI would’ve given me a one-way plane ride to Guantanamo Bay. From that point on, I never made another prank call. In fact, it was the last one I ever made.
A month after my junk fax shenanigans, the company fired one of its staff accountants. Since that person handled a majority of the filing, document piles grew, as did a need for filing help. To remedy the problem, they assigned Karyn to our department in the afternoons. The office of Chief Operations Officer, Sebastian Sherman, who was the son of the C.E.O. Ralph Sherman, was also located in the accounting department. A narrow walkway was the only thing that separated his office from the one I shared with one other staff accountant, Sam Shebani. While I handled Accounts Receivable and Collections, Sam was responsible for entering orders—the position I previously held when I first started. He was a short balding Iranian man, with a full dark beard, who was a year younger than I was. Sam was out the day I made my prank call and was upset with me for doing it when he wasn’t around. It was safe to say we both longed for some excitement to get us through the day.
“You must do another one.” He said as he affixed his glasses to his face.
“Sorry, my friend—my phony phone call career is over.”
“Did you hear about the cute girl downstairs? The receptionist? I can’t think of her name.”
“Karyn?”
“Yes, Karyn! She’s going to be working with us in the afternoon.”
“Gina told me the other day, but where are they gonna put her? There’s really no place for her to sit.”
“Gina said she’ll be sitting at the table right outside our office window.”
“She is? Why would she put her there?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll tell you what—I plan on bein’ really busy.”
“Why? Is that the real reason why she’s working up here now? Are they anticipating more orders coming upstairs from customer service?”
“No. I’m gonna be really busy checkin’ her out!” He smiled as he brought out a comb to groom what little hair was left on his head.
“Good luck with that, Fonzie!” I laughed.
I had worked at Pedichairs for two years before Karyn began working in my department. On her first day, she tapped on our office window and waved excitedly to both Sam and me, and it wasn’t hard to remember the broad smiles we all wore waving to each other that day. At that moment, I also felt sorry for her—it must’ve been pretty boring downstairs if she thought an accounting department would be more fun. During her first two weeks upstairs with us, I learned more about the company than I had in my entire two years working for them. If there were any office politics or drama, rest assured Karyn kept us up to date on all the developments. Her value was much more than reporting company news, however, when one day she came to the rescue. I needed to make labels for my file folders, and since she was well versed with the word processing program, she offered to help me out.
“You first have to select the label type. See, right here? Avery…five, one, six, zero.” She explained. “Then you type in what you want on your labels—I can walk you through it.”
“Oh no, I can figure it out… You’re busy, I’m sure.” I replied, feeling guilty that she even had to show me. “I just needed to be steered in the right direction since I’m only familiar with Excel spreadsheets and the ACCPAC accounting software. Thanks, Karyn.”
“Are you doing anything this weekend? Do you have any plans?” She asked—a question that caught me off guard.
“Oh, no. Not this weekend. I have a test on Monday night I have to study for. How about you?”
“Oh…no. I don’t. I never get out anymore on the weekends.” She replied with a restrained sadness.
“What? Why not? You’re only twenty-one!”
“I have a son.” She said as her almond-shaped brown eyes met mine.
“You do? Am I the only one here who didn’t know that?”
“I haven’t told anyone. I didn’t want people to judge me.”
“You act as if the people here are gossipy or something.” I smirked. “I totally get that. Your secret’s safe with me. May I ask how old he is?”
“Fourteen months.”
“Oh, he’s just a little guy.”
“My sweet little man.” She beamed. “I don’t get out much—I stay home all the time with him.”
“Are you married?”
“Not married…I live with his father, though.” She clarified. “But he’s not really there for the baby and me… He drinks a lot. I don’t like him being around our son when he does.”
“I suppose he must be pretty young then.”
“He’s younger than me…by a year.”
“Is he working?”
“He is, but he spends all his money on alcohol and weed instead of taking care of the things he needs to take care of.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” I responded then looked to the ground, not knowing what to say. I didn’t want to disrespect the father of her child.
“It is what it is.” She sighed. “Here, Landyn…this is the label you need.”
With my hand on the mouse, Karyn placed her soft, warm hand upon mine, and slowly guided it to the label I needed to select. When she deftly detached her hand, she smiled fondly. Pretending to ignore the gesture, I returned her smile with one and thanked her. When she left the scene, returned to her seat that directly faced my office window and smiled again, I could only wonder what was left unspoken. She didn’t knock my hand away from the mouse, and she didn’t ask me if she could show me—she wanted me to feel something instead. Like unwarranted criticism, I had to ignore it and purge any thoughts it entertained from my consciousness.
Each Friday that followed, Karyn would ask me what my weekend plans were. I would then unveil my plans to study over the weekend, and in turn, she would reveal her plans to stay home, wishing she had somewhere to go. Although I tried to put it out of my mind, my internal antennae picked up one peculiarity surrounding our daily conversations—I appeared to be the only one she shared her life with. It wasn’t until one Monday afternoon after I was told Karyn wasn’t coming into work, would I learn why she chose to confide in me.
“Hiya, Landyn.” She softly spoke when she unexpectedly entered my office while Sammy was out to lunch.
“Hey, what are you doin’ here?” I laughed. “I thought you were out today?”
“I only needed the morning off.” She told me as she strangely turned her face away from mine.
“Oh! Gina told us you weren’t coming in at all. How was your week…end?” I said then stammered when I noticed why she moved her face away from me.
I didn’t know what to say when I saw the bruising and bright redness on the left side of her face. I tried to recover my words and pretend I didn’t notice—she had purposefully combed her hair over to the side of her face to hide it. From the first day I met Karyn, she was nothing but kind and made a sincere effort to be my friend. I swore to never develop feelings for someone I worked with ever again, but this moment made it impossible for my empathetic nature to ignore. There was no excuse for her boyfriend to lay his hands on the mother of his son. As I continued to play blind, I also couldn’t talk to her about this—she probably came into my office to escape any questioning and not to divulge emotional details. After I silenced myself, I then let her dictate the direction of the conversation while my heart imitated the sun behind its obscurity of clouds—peeking through them for the first time since my failed relationship with Sara.
“I just stayed home and studied. I was going to.” I said to pick up from my initial dialogue with her but she spoke before I could finish.
“It’s okay.” She interjected as her eyes fell to the floor. “Now you know why I wish I could get out of the house on the weekends. Please promise you won’t tell anyone.”
“I’m so sorry, Karyn… I had no idea. I promise I’ll never say a word. I understand this is your business and no one else’s…but I’m here if you need to talk or if you need anything.” I said, then stood up from behind my desk and began to walk over to her. On the way, I quickly glanced outside my office window to see if anyone was nearby. When I saw no one was watching, I brought my hands to her face and gently fixed her hair to better hide the damage.
“I don’t think anyone will notice,” I said after assessing what I rearranged.
Karyn then leaned into me, buried her head into my shoulder, and sobbed. Without a word, I gently brought her closer and held her until she no longer wanted me to.
“Are you going to be okay?” I asked when she pulled away a half minute later.
“I think so.” She said as she wiped her eyes. “Does it look like I’ve been crying?”
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“Yes, but hang out with me for a little bit before you go out there,” I advised even though no one was around.
She nodded, then sat down at the chair next to my desk and spilled out everything about her physically abusive boyfriend. How he blamed her for ruining his life by having a baby that not only took his money but also forced him to miss out on his “partying” years. There were so many things wrong with his thinking, but all I could do was listen—I just didn’t know what to say. As bad as I felt for Karyn, I felt just as bad for her son—he was truly unwanted by his father. Although her son’s situation was eerily similar to my own, at least my father had bigger dreams at stake than losing his partying years. My father never lashed out at my mother physically and loved her, but I couldn’t say the same for Karyn—her boyfriend clearly loved himself more than anyone. I also couldn’t help but wonder why these were the type of men that the Karyns of the world were attracted to—a narcissist. Her boyfriend never once considered the physical and mental toll having a child took on her. He may have lost his partying years, but she would never be the same again. The more I listened, the more her pain revealed how much she lacked the most essential thing for her to have, something we all needed, the very thing I secretly searched for…the need to feel truly loved. As I replayed the time she laid her hand upon mine, I knew I had the ability to save her—she seemed to even choose me to. All I could do though was listen while my heart forced me to reconsider what my mind reminded me of—a job and a certain peace of mind I couldn’t afford to lose.
A few days later, I noticed that the Chief Operating Officer brought in lunch for Karyn. Pedichairs was a family-owned business who took really good care of their employees. It was the one thing I loved about working for them—they made an effort to keep their employees happy. In such a litigious business environment, it was both a revolutionary idea and common sense. Why wouldn’t they minimize employee dissatisfaction and subsequently, any unnecessary litigation or liability costs? Sebastian was especially personable with every employee, from top to bottom and from staff to line, he connected with each of us—bringing lunch for Karyn wasn’t unusual. When a couple of employees noticed the bruising on her face that day, she told them she tripped on her boyfriend’s skateboard and hit her head on the sidewalk. As her bruise and swelling subsided, she continued to confide in me about her failing relationship with the father of her son. How he brought strangers inside their apartment and then got high and drunk with them in the company of their child. He only became more physically abusive when she disagreed with the choices he made around their son and ran out of excuses for his behavior.
“It’s always been that way with men in my life… My father was the same way,” she attempted to rationalize.
“It should never be that way though, Karyn.” I encouraged. “The birth of your son gives you a chance to reverse the abusive history of men in your family. Do you want to raise a son who thinks it’s okay to hit a woman? What if you have a daughter? Would you want her to go through this with the men in her life? You have a real chance now to change the pattern of violence; otherwise, history will just keep repeating itself.”
As badly as I wanted to save her from the situation, I resisted the temptation to get closer to her—I had no right to get involved in such a sensitive matter. I could only listen and offer very light advice, if any. This wasn’t Frugals or the daycare—this was a career job. I had too much at stake to get involved romantically and have it blow up in my face. I didn’t fear Karyn’s boyfriend—I knew the guy was a punk and I even liked her enough to face him. There was one huge detail I couldn’t ignore though—he was the father of her child, and that was bigger than I was.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse for Karyn, she had yet another physical altercation with her boyfriend the following weekend. It then forced her to take action to end the vicious cycle of her past—she filed a police report and had him arrested for domestic violence. When he returned home after his release, Karyn took it a step further and with police assistance, she kicked him out of the apartment he paid for.
“He only became more violent.” She explained. “He won’t stop partying at the house. When our son couldn’t stop coughing because of all the smoke from the pot and got sick…I had to do it.”
“You shouldn’t feel guilty, Karyn. How else is he gonna learn to be more responsible? You’re giving him a chance to be in his son’s life by forcing him to get his life together—by becoming a real parent.” I said. “I know you hate to do it because he’s the father of your son, but it’s something you have to do—he forced your hand. The well-being of you and your son depends on it; his well-being, too.”
“Maybe, but I broke up with him.” She revealed. “If being a father isn’t enough to change him, I doubt he’ll ever change.”
The OJ Simpson murder trial took place five years earlier, so Karyn’s situation had potential consequences if she didn’t act. No matter how much my mother would upset my father when they argued, he never laid a finger on her. If the disagreements Karyn had were already physical, how would it get any better down the road? Regardless of intimacy, there could be no love without mutual respect.
“Will you ever get back with him?” I sprung upon her.
“Not a chance.” She replied without hesitation.
Like a plane traveling five hundred miles per hour into the side of a mountain, I could feel and hear her hopes crash as her voice trembled. Her decision only further enraged the father of her son, and the day after she broke up with him, he marched to their apartment, hammered beyond coherence. He pounded on the door defiantly and demanded she let him inside to see a child who wailed in fear. When the cops arrived, and she had him arrested a second time, he then became more cooperative. My heart bled for her—no mother should have to endure this for any reason. Regardless of how much I hurt for her, I continued to keep my opinions to myself. These actions to protect her son damaged the life of his father, and that made it even harder for her. Karyn was hurt beyond what she communicated, and there was an innocent child involved. Although I cared about her, all I could do was listen and be her friend. I didn’t want to offer any advice because I was no authority on her situation. I could only be supportive when she came to me, hoping it would help her out in some way while wishing there was something more I could do. It just felt good to know she now had a real shot at the love she deserved. During this time, one evening after Karyn left for the day, Sammy had his own view on my role as her confidant.
“Alright, I have to come out and say it.” He blurted.
“Say what?” I asked, confused.
“She likes you, Land.” He smiled widely. “There it is.”
“Who, Karyn? I don’t think so. We’re just friends… That’s all we are.”
“You may be friends, but I saw her checking out her friend yesterday.”
“You’re crazy.” I dismissed.
“I’ve seen her just gazing at you through the window before.” He said. “I swear she never takes her eyes off you sometimes.”
“Sammy, come on, man. If that were true, I would’ve definitely noticed it.” I rejected again. “How are you able to pick up on that, but I can’t?”
“Because I know women,” he said, “and you’re clueless.”
“Whatever.”
“Do you like her?”
“Well…yeah. Who wouldn’t?” I confessed. “I like her, but I know the ending to this story already. I’ve dated someone I’ve worked with before, and I can’t go down that road again. I’m too passionate, too attached and then things…things just fall apart. I have a career job here now, and I can’t risk that happening again.”
“Pedichairs is a career job?” He laughed incredulously. “Landyn, you’re the department’s most knowledgeable employee yet you’ve gotten bypassed for raises. They even screwed you over again this year and why? Because you didn’t have an accounting degree even though they hired you to work in their accounting department with a different degree? If you believe this is a career job, then you’re never going to reach your potential! If you like her, then I say roll with it.”
“Let’s be fair here…I don’t know all the things I should know about accounting. They graciously hired me with a finance degree to give me an accounting position. I can analyze financials and make credit decisions, but that’s pretty much it. I don’t really have any confidence in debits and credits, and that’s basic accounting. I think I’m a year away from being an actual accountant.”
“Well account for this…two fourteen.” He said.
“Two fourteen? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hello?” He threw his hands in the air. “Valentine’s Day?”
“Listen.” He leaned in towards me, then lowered his voice. “On Valentine’s Day, have flowers delivered to Karyn here at work.”
“That’s lunacy!” I shouted.
“Oh, you mean like the lunacy of taking a job as an accountant, working your ass off as an accountant, and not being paid like an accountant? What’s crazier than that?”
“You may already know the lunacy of my mind, but I don’t want anyone to know the lunacy of my heart.” I replied while I rubbed my eyes and slowly shook my head, suddenly depressed about my life.
“Flowers…send her flowers.” He reiterated. “Trust me on this.”
He may have brought my attention to the senselessness of my accounting career, but how could I dare entertain the thought of sending Karyn flowers to work on Valentine’s Day? I never did that for Sara, and we were together for two years! What would the company employees think of me if I did such a thing? Did Sammy have a half-empty bottle of Jose Cuervo at his desk I didn’t know about? If he was right though and Karyn did like me after all she’s gone through, how cruel would it be to never acknowledge her feelings? Would she have shared so much of herself with me if she didn’t like me? Since the day I felt her hand on mine, I couldn’t deny I had feelings for her too. When she sobbed in my arms, it only heightened what I already felt. Her heart was too young to be hurt so badly by someone, and she was only more vulnerable to being hurt again. If she liked me and I had the ability to save her, how could I remain blind? Valentine’s Day presented a chance to show Karyn a beautiful truth: she was worthy of a man’s honor and respect. If she truly harbored feelings for me, then only I could bring her to shore.
While my heart imagined a vessel of flowers, my mind had it anchored to the past with Sara. It may not be a career job in Sammy’s eyes, but Pedichairs had a much more professional setting than Frugals. If things went wrong between Karyn and me, how would I be able to hide the pain in an office setting? I couldn’t just disappear inside a stockroom like I did at Frugals. If she rejected me, would I still be able to work with her? I could leave for another store at Frugals, but at Pedichairs, I’d have to leave for another job. When I couldn’t answer any of these questions with a confident “yes” it would be career suicide if I sent her flowers on Valentine’s Day. I had to prove to myself I’ve matured since my time at Frugals; that I followed my mind now instead of my heart—true professionals knew how to separate the two.
After Sammy apprised me of what he saw, it only created a safety net to catch feelings for Karyn. When I started to internally count down each morning before I saw her in the afternoon, I became officially smitten. After Sara, I never thought I could feel the same for another girl again, but with each minute that passed, I only learned I was wrong. Since I was naturally introverted, I was unsurprisingly drawn to extroverted women, and Karyn had the same magnetic personality as Sara did that drew people to her. The feeling of being the center of someone’s attention that people loved to gravitate to was attractive to me. I always fantasized going to parties with a significant other who was outgoing and social; who people wanted to be around. While everyone gravitated to her, though, she was the one who gravitated to me; her favorite person to be around. At Pedichairs, every single guy from the engineering department to the customer service department to the production department, to even the mailman, took a liking to Karyn. After Sammy told me he thought she liked me, I felt like her chosen favorite to be around—the one she chose to confide in and gravitate to. It made me feel special, and my feelings for her took off from there. I then wondered why I couldn’t date her and rationalized how different it could be than when I dated Sara. If I was ever meant to walk away from Karyn, why did her distress find its way to me? How could I just write off a once-in-a-lifetime girl with a once-in-a-lifetime set of circumstances? By choosing my mind over my heart, I would only be shunning the universe.
Could it be more likely I would regret never sending her flowers on Valentine’s Day, knowing there was a chance for us? Since the day I saw the bruises on her face, I wanted to help her beyond listening. For a man who believed in love, to listen to his mind more than his heart would be an act of sacrilege. Karyn confided in me for a reason, enough for a third party who witnessed it to believe she liked me. If I overlooked her desire, how could I not be as bad as her boyfriend in her eyes? I had to send her flowers; not for me, but for her—to give her something to believe in again. I genuinely cared about her regardless of my amorous feelings for her, and my belief in love was too great for me to ignore. If there was a chance for us, I had to know. My low self-esteem had something to add to the internal decision-making process though, and I listened—I decided to send her flowers anonymously to save face with the rest of the company employees. After her heartbreak, having a secret admirer on Valentine’s Day had to lift her spirits. If she didn’t feel the same way, at least I could remain incognito—the last thing I wanted to do was make her feel bad. I only wanted to give her some sunshine in the dark and the respect she deserved from a man who claimed to care for her.
On Valentine’s Day morning, five minutes after the flowers were scheduled to be delivered, Gina strutted into my office.
“Well, well, well. It looks like Karyn had a bouquet of roses delivered to her this morning.” She notified me while Sammy was out on his usual morning bathroom break. “From a Secret Admirer.”
“Really?” I responded with counterfeit surprise. “Well, I guess it is Valentine’s Day—her ex must be tryin’ to win her back. Very romantic of him.”
“Don’t worry, Ambassador.” She retorted. “I won’t blow your cover.”
When Gina made this correct assumption, I’m sure I turned beet red—I wanted to run and hide under my desk.
“Why would I do something like that?” I replied, horrified. “What would make you even think that?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She contemplated. “Maybe I should call the FBI and have them investigate, huh?”
“Well, thanks to yours truly, that’s an option for you now.”
“Come on, Pinky. We ALL see how much you like each other.”
Her spirited blue eyes then deadlocked into mine and turned me into a flummoxed contestant in the world’s shortest staring contest.
“Oh, alright, fine. Damnit—I sent her the roses.” I sighed, honest to a fault yet again. “There’s nothing going on between us, Gina. That’s the honest truth. She’s going through a lot, and I just wanted to lift her spirits—I did it out of friendship. I hope that doesn’t upset anyone here.”
“I knew it! You don’t like her as more than a friend?” She asked. “She’s a real cutie patootie.”
“Well, I do…but more than anything I just wanted her to have a fun Valentine’s Day. Can you please keep it between us until I tell her they came from me? She has no idea.”
“Sure thing, Pinky.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“By the way, Painter seems to think you’re running out of work to do.” She then notified me.
“Why does he think that?” I replied, perplexed. “I’ve been busier than ever.”
“He says that every time he comes inside your office, your in-box is empty.” She stated. “I just wanted to give you a heads up.”
“Mr. Painter thinks based solely on having nothing in my in-box, that I must have nothing to do?”
“Yup.”
“He didn’t consider that it might be empty because I’m getting my work done?”
“Welcome to the mind of a Controller.” She said as she put her red disheveled hair up in a pony tail. “Gotta run! I have to get started on payroll. Stay out of trouble!”
“Hooray for you!” I teased before she left my office. “Thanks for the heads up.”
After Gina informed me of Mr. Painter’s perceived relationship between my workload and my empty in-box, I forgot all about the flowers. I then drew my own conclusion of what seemed to be a petty criticism—it coincided directly with my perceived relationship with Karyn. Every conversation I ever had with her either came during my lunch hour or during the course of my job. I never stopped working while we carried a conversation, and if I did, it was only for a brief minute or two, and was no different than a conversation anyone else at work had. If Mr. Painter assumed my workload was insufficient based solely on an empty in-box, then he definitely thought I goofed off each time I talked to Karyn. It also seemed to suggest he didn’t place much value on my role with the company. To be fair, I wasn’t very good, but he hired me with a non-accounting degree with minimal training and at a below-market rate salary—what else did he expect? When Gina suggested I sent Karyn the roses, this went beyond a simple query—it was a warning that he was watching me. My relationship with Karyn put Gina in a bad spot with Mr. Painter, and he used my empty in-box to test her loyalty to him—something I never considered before I had the flowers delivered. I cared about Gina’s job as much as my own and had to find a remedy, especially if more employees felt Karyn and I were spending a questionable amount of time together.
Minutes after Gina left my office, I walked over to the supplies cabinet and grabbed a ream of copy paper containing five hundred sheets. When I returned, I opened the package and placed the entire ream of paper in my inbox. I then grabbed a couple of filled-out credit applications and a few credit request forms and placed them on top to hide the blank copy paper. After I transformed my desk’s in-box to the paper equivalent of Mount Everest, I heard a sweet voice permeate my ears.
“Good morning, Landyn.”
“Hey! Good morning, Karyn!” I replied nervously, unsure if she sensed I was her secret admirer. “How’s it going?”
“Great! I got roses this morning! They’re so beautiful!” She exclaimed, her face glowing with excitement and wonder.
“Really? Who sent them to you?”
“That’s the thing—I don’t know! I just had to tell you.” She said. “Well, I better run back downstairs. See you this afternoon!”
“No way! Okay, talk to you in a few hours!”
When I saw the smile and joy in her eyes, I knew I did the right thing regardless of the outcome or what people thought—the flowers clearly made her day and mine as well. Minutes after she left my office, Mr. Painter, suddenly appeared to drop a document off in my inbox. As he laid it upon my now literal pile of work, it slid off and fell to the floor. His eyes widened when he saw my ambitious mountain of labor—created only to stifle his false perceptions.
“Don’t worry Mr. Painter, I’ll get it.” I said while I tried not to laugh as I reached down to retrieve the fallen piece of paper.
During the next three days, the entire office was abuzz with curiosity—who sent Karyn roses on Valentine’s Day? Although my secret remained intact, I wondered why no one considered any outside possibilities. When the speculation carried into its second week, my secret fell under siege when suitors from other departments began to take credit for sending them. Romantic interests from engineering, customer service, production, and even the UPS guy emerged from the shadows to claim they sent her the flowers. My informers of these unforeseen events, Gina and Sam, then asked if I planned to tell Karyn. As the pressure mounted, I could only think of one thing to do—to consult with the person who gave me the heart that created this office bedlam.
“Well…that’s the story. What do you think I should do, Mom?” I solicited.
Just a few months earlier, my mother’s cancer returned after a five-year remission—the radiation treatment to rid her of the cancer was ineffective. This time, however, the doctors advocated for a mastectomy instead of radiation treatments. A week after her diagnosis, she underwent successful surgery to have her left breast removed, followed by several rounds of chemotherapy. Since they detected it early, her chemotherapy treatments were lighter than normal rounds and she never lost her hair or got sick. When her chemo rounds concluded, the doctors gave her a clean bill of health, saying there was no more evidence of cancer. This second bout with the disease only strengthened her relationship with God, so much so you would’ve never suspected she lost a breast. She even considered it all a blessing, not a curse. Her renewed positive spirit, even though I didn’t see the purpose behind this so called “blessing,” took away most of my worries for her.
“What kind of flowers did you send her?” She asked. “I hope they weren’t roses.”
“They weren’t roses. They were a mixture of lilies, tulips, and daisies… Maybe a few dandelions here and there.” I lied. “Why would you ask that?”
“Roses signify love… I think that would be coming on a little too strong.”
“I’ll admit I care about her a lot, but not enough to send roses.”
“That’s good. You might have a chance with her then.” She expanded.
“Ugh! Alright…I sent her roses.” I admitted in annoyance of her assessment.
“Landy!”
“What else kind of freakin’ flowers would I send a girl on Valentine’s Day?” I exclaimed. “How could tulips and daisies from a secret admirer be a better idea?”
“I just worry about you… You tend to wear your heart on your sleeve.” She said. “I remember what happened with your last girlfriend.”
“It’s not the same, Sara and I were too young to know what the hell we were doing. Karyn is different—she’s been through a lot, appreciates good guys, and is mature for her age. She values relationships because she’s been in a bad one. She’s not judgmental and is interested in good men, and not a bad boy—it’s why I felt safe enough to send her roses.” I explained. “If she doesn’t want to date…I’m fine with that too. We work together, and I remember how things ended up with Sara—I don’t wanna go through that ever again. A friend suggested sending her flowers because he could tell she likes me. I probably would’ve never done it otherwise.”
“What if she wants to go out with you?”
“Then I’ll just have to take her out on the best date of her life!” I smiled with hope.
“See… I knew it!” She said as she pointed at me.
“You knew what?”
“You have your heart set on her!”
“I’m not going to lie to you… It’d be nice, but whatever happens, happens.” I said. “I’m not going to allow myself to fall for her. I have too much at stake now.”
“How do you feel about her never knowing the flowers came from you? Do you want her to believe they came from someone else?”
“I don’t know,” I said as I put my head in my hands.
“Well, what does your mind say?”
“To play it safe and just keep it a secret.”
“And what does your heart say?”
“Take a chance… I’ll regret it if I don’t.” I said as I brought my face from out of my hands.
“I think you have your answer now.” She said as she rose off the edge of the bed in her pink flannel pajamas—at five in the afternoon. “I’ll say a prayer for you.”
I had answered my own question when I sent Karyn roses on Valentine’s Day—my heart already ruled over my mind. I could’ve sent her any type of flowers, but I chose roses because I needed to know if what Sammy saw was true. I couldn’t escape what the universe created and also controlled. The solution was simple—I just had to follow through with my heart. If there was a chance for Karyn and me, I had to know. I also gave her the same thing I gave Sara—it just wasn’t a handwritten note. The same fears I had with Sara were there too, and they turned out to be unfounded ten years ago. With a career job on the line, though, I had to be certain. Recalling when she put her hand upon mine as she guided my mouse and the tears she couldn’t hide from me when I held her gave me fewer doubts. If I meant nothing to her, she simply wouldn’t have confided in me and to remain incognito would not only be disrespectful to her heart but also inherently criminal. Without uncertainty, I knew I could save her from her abusive ex-boyfriend and be a positive influence for her son. This had to be the reason why the daycare came into my life; why I was chosen to watch over the children of others. If I misinterpreted her feelings, I had no choice but to understand, but I could no longer deny the need to know if they were there without regrets.
The sun rose and set fourteen times since I sent Karyn roses, and each time she wondered about their clandestine nature, I tried to change the subject. When my secret seemed to border emotional cruelty, I knew I had to come clean—I just didn’t know how to tell her. One day, while most of the employees were outside at the catering truck during lunchtime, I grabbed a blue pen, a large, beige Post-it Note, and went downstairs. As fate, or luck would have it, Karyn was alone and seated behind the reception desk. I then folded the Post-it Note and handed it to her, with a message that simply read: I sent you the roses. As her facial expression relayed confusion, I asked her to please wait a few minutes before she read it. When I returned to my desk, I took a deep breath, relieved she would soon know the truth. I then shook my head when I realized how similar, yet different this was to the time I held the note I had written to Sara for weeks before I finally gave it to her. In my mind, I was way ahead of schedule with Karyn. Even my reasoning behind revealing how I felt was the same as with Sara—in the end, the regret of never knowing became greater than the fear.
Karyn was usually upstairs in the accounting department at one in the afternoon. When the clock turned two-thirty without a trace of her, I naturally feared the worst—I was certain she read the note by now. With every minute that passed, I felt I made a mistake by coming clean, and that she was disappointed the roses didn’t come from someone else. I imagined her downstairs, asking people for advice on how to handle things with me when she came upstairs. When I looked over at Sammy’s empty chair across from me, I thought of ways to tell him how things worked out.
“Did you really send me the roses?” Karyn announced her sudden presence softly—I didn’t hear her come in.
I nodded and smiled at her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked.
“I wanted to make it interesting for you,” I said as my voice began to tremble. “I just… I don’t know—you’ve been through so much. I wanted you to have a fun Valentine’s Day; to get your mind off of things. I know I’ve listened to you, but I wanted to do something for you. I really debated about not telling you at all, but everyone else started to take credit for the flowers!”
“I would’ve never guessed they were from you, but I’m so happy they were!” She exclaimed to my surprise. “Thank you so much!”
“Karyn, I know you can’t get out much, but I would love to take you out sometime,” I offered. “If you’re not interested though, I completely understand. I don’t want to lose your friendship.”
“Let’s make plans!” She responded enthusiastically. “I would love to go out with you!”
I had to pinch myself—I couldn’t believe how happy and receptive she was. I also couldn’t believe I followed my heart, and it paid off. There was something very special about us, and I couldn’t wait to find out what the future had in store. Sammy was right: send her roses and life could smell like one. At twenty-nine years old, after years of loneliness, I found a rose of my own in Karyn Gold.
For the next few weeks that followed, we emailed each other every morning until we were able to see each other in the afternoon. She not only complimented me but even admitted she liked me for the longest time. How could Sammy see all this yet I hardly did? It was a perfect example of how my low self-esteem blinded me to what others saw. Karyn even went on to tell pretty much everyone at the company I was the one who sent her the roses, which made me feel special that she was proud enough to tell everyone. Especially when I knew if I ever sent Sara roses anonymously at work then revealed they came from me, she would have called in sick for an entire week out of embarrassment. In hindsight, I probably should’ve asked her to keep it a secret. Then again, I didn’t feel right about being dishonest to my fellow co-workers—it would only inspire gossip and resentment. I knew there were consequences for sending flowers to her at work, but it provided me with an opportunity to show people the empathy I had for others. I knew Mr. Painter and even Gina would come down on me a little more, but it gave me a chance to show them that I took my job seriously. If we could never be proud of the things we did in life, then we should never do them.
During this time, we tried to coordinate our first date, but she was still having issues with her ex-boyfriend. I told her no matter how anxious I was to go out with her, there was no rush—we would go out when the time was right for her. As fall turned into winter, every day at work, her and I emailed each other throughout the morning hours before we spoke in the afternoon. Although we continued to express a mutual admiration for each other, she never talked about going out on a date, and even stopped asking what I was doing on the weekends. Karyn always made it a point to say “goodnight” to me before she left for the day, but even that ceased. These subtle changes led me to wonder one thing—did she have a change of heart? The last thing I wanted to do was pressure her, but I never expected four months would pass without a single date. Although I wanted to remain respectful to the situation with the father of her son, I also needed to know if our date was something I shouldn’t set my heart on anymore.
“Hey, Landyn!” Said a sudden deep voice that startled me—it was Sebastian Sherman who suddenly popped his head inside my office after Sammy had just stepped out for the day. “When you see Karyn, can you have her come to my office?”
“Sure! I’ll let her know.” I assured.
The company just started to expand its business internationally into Japan and other parts of Europe. Pedichairs was growing beyond its expectations and doing extremely well, so the plan was for Sebastian to take over as the Company’s CEO when his father retired at the end of the year. He was young, charismatic, and a down-to-earth leader who developed many of the new wheelchair models that brought international business to the company. Pedichairs received over ten million dollars of new orders for a wheelchair model that was months away from being produced. Sebastian’s innovations put the company in a position of having a terrific future, and he was clearly the reason for its sudden and continued success. The company seemed to be in great hands, and I felt super lucky to be a small part of it.
When I saw Karyn emerge from outside my office window, I motioned for her to come in.
“Sebastian was just looking for you. He wants you to go to his office.” I said after she poked her head inside.
“Thanks!” She said, then quickly vanished from view.
After she fled the scene, I flashbacked to nine years earlier—the day Tyler Semenchski came into Frugals to see Sara. I had no right to feel this way; Karyn wasn’t even my girlfriend, but for some reason, I felt the same inadequacy I did on that day. I then had to ask myself a hard question—would a woman who truly liked me ever be this patient? Wouldn’t she have to feel the same anxiousness and desire I did? Or was she giving the father of her son a second chance? When it scared me to face these questions, let alone answer them, I knew I had to talk to her. When she returned from Sebastian’s office, about ten minutes before she went home for the weekend, I decided to see where I stood with her. I then vacated my office, looked around to make sure no one was within earshot, and knelt down beside her.
“Hey…are you busy this weekend?” I whispered while she sat at her desk. “Can you get away for an hour tomorrow or Sunday night so I could take you out to dinner? I’ll pay for a babysitter if you need one.”
“Um…thanks, but I’m just going through a lot, Landyn.” She said softly as she turned around to look behind her. “I’m tryin’ to repair myself from the damage of my last relationship. I can’t date anyone right now. I hope you understand.”
“I totally understand. I’m sorry, Karyn… I didn’t mean to push it.” I whispered back as I tried to hide my disappointment.
“You’re a really nice guy, and I do like you a lot…but I’m just not ready.” She quietly expounded.
“I respect that, and I appreciate you letting me know,” I said as I stood up. “Have a great weekend.”
“You too,” She said with her eyes on her keyboard.
Seconds later I was left staring at an in-box that mirrored my own emptiness—caught in my own version of hell…yet again. Amid my deflated feelings, I tried to look at things positively—at least I knew she still liked me, and it was just bad timing. She never rejected me and was just understandably working through the trauma her ex levied upon her. Once she eradicated him from her mind, I had emails that proved she liked me enough to give me a chance. I just needed to exercise a little more patience with her—good things came to those who wait. After I put together a to-do list for the following week and reformed my in-box to Mr. Painter’s liking, I departed for the weekend with a positive mindset. On my way out, I noticed Sebastian’s office door was slightly ajar. I passed by his office every evening on the way out, but his door was always closed—he usually left before I did. On this Friday though, he was here, and since he would be the last one in the office after I left, I feared he might forget to lock up for the weekend. I then opened the door just enough to poke my head inside to let him know he was the last one in the office and to remind him that he had to lock up.
“Hey Sebastian, you’re the last…one…” I said but found it impossible to finish my sentence.
When I opened the door, Karyn faced me while perched on Sebastian’s lap with her lips on his and her fingers pressed into his back. Her long, unusually frizzy brown hair dangled messily over her face, yet not enough to hide her disdain. She glared at me with the kind of disgust that should only be reserved for someone who hurt her beyond repair—like she never knew me at all.
“Goodnight,” I said as I slowly closed the door.
Seconds later, I was peering up into a moonless Friday night sky, already feeling the dread of Monday and the longest forty-eight hours of my life.
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