Chapter 2 - The RecruiterAfter Teresa left, I dug through my old emails. My application confirmation was there. Nothing after it. I found the number from the original job posting and called.
After I explained who I was, the woman on the line searched my file. "Yes, I have your application."
"The position was filled, wasn't it?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Did I make it past the first round?"
A pause. "You were invited to the final interview, Claire."
I closed my eyes. "I never received an invitation."
"We emailed the address on your application and mailed a formal copy."
"Did I decline?"
"No. We called the home number listed on your application to follow up."
My grip tightened around the phone. "Who answered?"
"Your husband. He told our recruiter you weren't continuing."
"What exactly did he say?"
"That you were under a lot of stress and didn't want a more demanding role."
I stared down at the torn pieces of the letter. "Was I really being considered?"
"Very seriously."
I thanked her and hung up. The job was gone. But losing the position wasn't the part that hurt most. What hurt was remembering Nathan comforting me afterward. He had watched me decide I wasn't good enough. And he had helped me believe it.
That evening, Nathan came home carrying soup.
"You look terrible."
"Thanks."
"Beautiful, but medically terrible."
Normally I'd have laughed. Instead I watched the man I'd trusted for eleven years heat up my dinner.
"Someone mentioned a leadership workshop next month," I said, casual as I could manage.
He glanced up. "For you?"
"Maybe."
"That's great." I waited. Then: "Although next month might be rough, Claire. You've been exhausted. I'd rather you book a spa weekend."
"It's one weekend."
"I'm not saying don't go. I just worry you say yes because you're afraid to disappoint people."
Before that afternoon, I would have heard concern in that. Now I heard something else entirely.
"You think I shouldn't go."
"I think you deserve rest." He came over and touched my shoulder. "I'm on your side, remember?"
"Right."
Two nights later we had dinner with his parents. Halfway through the meal, his mother smiled at me. "I don't know how you manage that schedule, sweetie. Nathan says you've been thinking about slowing down."
My fork stopped. I had never told him that.
"I'm not planning to slow down."
Nathan gave a small laugh. "That's not exactly what I said."
"You told them I wanted to slow down."
"I told them you've been exhausted."
"Those aren't the same thing." His hand moved toward mine. I pulled mine away.
On the drive home, he made it four blocks before speaking. "What was that about?"
"I corrected something you told your parents."
"You made it sound like I've been speaking for you."
"You have been."
He glanced at me. "Claire, you've spent months coming home half-dead. What was I supposed to think?"
"Ask me."
"I have."
"No. You ask if I'm tired, then fill in everything else yourself."
He went quiet. That silence stayed with me the next afternoon when I went to see Priya, my best friend since college. She knew something was wrong before I'd even gotten my coat off.
"Tea?"
"Please."
She listened while I told her everything. When I finished I said, "Maybe I really was working too much."
Her expression changed. "Why are you starting there?"
"Because maybe he saw how bad things had gotten."
"He probably did. But seeing that you're overwhelmed isn't the same as deciding your future for you."
"He helped me through the worst year of my life."
"I remember."
"What if he thought he was helping again?"
She leaned back. "Then why didn't he tell you what he'd done?"
I had no answer for that.
That night I unfolded Diane's note again. Please call me. Don't let this opportunity pass again, Claire.
I stared at the number. Then I called.
"Claire?"
"Hi, Diane."
"I should've called sooner."
"You should have." Despite everything, I smiled. "I missed an opportunity. I don't want to miss the next one."
May you like
Her voice softened. "Then tell me what you want."
For once, I didn't say I was fine. "I want to move forward."
Related Stories
