Ellie had always thought of herself as independent. Growing up, she was the outsider among her siblings. After all, she hadn’t found success in her adult life because she was a peacemaker as a kid. No, she had to fight for everything she had earned.

I get to choose who I’m loyal to, she'd reassure herself.

So the idea of having a family of her own? That seemed a sacrifice too inconvenient.

Plus, I love my job, she’d say, comforting herself every morning. It’s not like anyone else is hiring.

Sure, she had to make uncomfortable decisions like hiring and firing people. And yeah, she had to deal with her boss continually dumping high-pressure tasks on her desk. Not to mention, putting up with the impossible constraints of her wealthy clients.

Yes, she would go home at night to an empty 8th floor walk-up (that doesn't even allow pets) and she would mourn over how empty she felt. But these are the times we live in, she’d say; her inner monologue justifying what were impossible conditions.

She was playing out a high-powered career in New York City—a dream she'd had since she was a girl—despite the adversity of the times she found herself in.

Ellie had a social life. She made an effort to take stock of all her friends. She had Wynnie and Todd that she’d go rock climbing with. She had Bert and Megan who were her dinner party friends. And then there was Thom, Kristin, and Marta who she went to live shows with. Paul, Gareth, and Mel were her comedy friends. And then there was Griffin and group who were into board games. Though, she had cut Griffin off after he had made several romantic passes at her.

Then there was her artist friend Brittany Turner, the proverbial island and a bit of a mercurial wanderer; a kindred spirit nonetheless.

After racing through her social circles, though, Ellie realized it wouldn’t actually be fair to say she made time for her friends. Besides Brittany, she hadn't seen any of them in weeks.

Thus is the life of Ellie. Determined, driven, and unwaveringly focused on the career she's always wanted; haunted by an emptiness that she refused to acknowledge.

Chapter 1

Brittany's small frame nervously filled the empty booth. The table was at a cafe in Manhattan, she was nursing a cup of coffee that matched her complexion.

Hipster music blared through the overhead speakers. Each grill painted black along with the wiring, the air ducts, and other overhead equipment. It all contributed to the contrived feeling of corporate cool.

Brittany's face was contorted in a frustrated frown; the overly-caffeinated hands of a painter fidgeted anxiously with an empty straw wrapper.

The ice in her cup suddenly shifted as her wide eyes darted toward the unexpected motion; millions of years of evolution struggling to adapt to such an over-stimulating, artificial environment.

Ellie inelegantly burst through the door, encumbered by a messenger bag and an armload of folders. She quickly scanned the cafe and clocked her friend rustling a straw wrapper at the far side of the room.

Sliding into the booth, Ellie exclaimed a rehearsed apology, "I'm sorry! It's been crazy at work. I don't know why they insist on using so much paper..." gesturing at the folders that she had haphazardly dropped on the table.

Brittany stammered, cutting off Ellie with mild annoyance informing her tone, "Ellie, I swear to God I thought you had forgotten about me…” she barked, leaving a pause to emphasize, “…again."

Ellie was startled. Brittany was usually far more understanding. She's an artist, after all. Not the kind of person who demands timeliness. A beat of silence fell between the two—punctuated by monotonous EDM beats over the speakers. Ellie's gaze dropped to the table, evidence of a wash of shame accompanying Brittany's outburst.

Another moment passed before Brittany leaned back and crossed her arms, determination replaced that look of shame. She was obviously waiting for an apology.

Ellie looked up at her friend. "What do you want me to do?" She asked, feigning obliviousness.

"You know what? I thought we were friends. I was going to invite you to my showing at the gallery this weekend but you can't even make time for coffee!" Brittany was indignant. Her normally wide eyes, now narrowed in a predatorial stance.

Her reply was not what Ellie had expected. She kept telling herself her tardiness was no big deal. She believed Brittany would shrug it off in an easy-going way. Ellie sat there in stunned silence for a moment longer, unable to make but passing glances at the woman across the table.

Brittany's anger abated, though; her brow loosened. She adopted a more matter-of-fact tone. "It's just that you always complain about your friends being inflexible when you want to go hiking or throw pottery or whatever. But you're the inflexible one." With a hesitant pause, she studied Ellie's face looking for a hint of remorse. She cautiously continued, "You put your career ahead of everything and everyone else. Everyone has to accommodate your job. And then when we do? You don't even have the courtesy of being on time."

Suddenly, Ellie's fight or flight response kicked in. Instead of feeling shame for being late, Ellie went on the attack. "You know what Brittany? Maybe my job means that I don't have time to waste sitting in a coffee shop all morning waiting to chew out my best friend for having lots of important things to do."

Brittany squared her shoulders as she sat upright, she's had heard this all before. "Important things to do." She quoted Ellie with a sardonic lilt; an incredulous, almost disgusted grin across her face. "Maybe my humanity means I'm going to walk away from this conversation before we both say shit we don't mean." In an uncoordinated lurch, Brittany slid out of the booth and swiftly left the cafe.

Conflicting emotions rode their way across Ellie's face. Outrage gave way to shame, but her brow signified defiance. If she's going to attack me for having a good job, then I'm not the one with the problem, she thought.

Now that the perceived threat was gone, the only person left to deceive was herself.

The city lights shone brightly through the windows of Ellie's 8th floor walk-up apartment. Her face illuminated by her smartphone's cold white glow, with the city's warm hue off to the side.

It's Friday night, the middle of June and it has been several weeks since she had heard from Brittany. Ellie was trying to find something to do. She called her friend Megan, but there was no response. So she texted Marta but soon found she had been left on read.

She started scrolling through her social media timelines, getting bored, and switching to another app. Then she saw a photo Marta had posted. It was of her, Thom and his girlfriend at a concert.

She checked the description:

At the True Succession show with my besties @_sarahbarax and @thomnotyorke

Ellie was quite upset by this. Not only was she unaware that her favorite band was in town, but neither Marta nor Thom reached out to invite her. She ironically liked the photo. Then she left a comment quoting one of the band’s deeper cuts. Something about betrayal. A blank stare came over her face until her screen timed out. In this moment, her self-esteem was at an all-time low.

Maybe there's something else that'll cheer me up? She thought.

She turned her phone back on and kept scrolling. If she wanted to find joy, her phone was not the place to find it.

Posted 48 minutes ago by Wynnie Thompson At #CityLeap with @toddthompsonclimbing @jimlambert and @kylie_heart_xoxo_

It was a photo of Wynnie, her husband Todd, and two other folks in free climbing gear at the best climbing wall in Midtown.

That hurt, too. Todd and Wynnie are my rock climbing friends. Who the fuck are Jim and Kylie?! In a pathetic fit of rage, Ellie angrily gestured to close the app, then pressed the power button.

She looked at the clock on her wall: 8:45 PM on a Friday night, she thought. Curfew’s not for another two hours.

She turned her phone on again and placed an order for Vietnamese take out, a large order of Pho to be delivered ASAP. She grabbed her Macbook and opened up her email client.

“I guess I’ll just work,” she sighed to herself in a whisper.

"I spent the entire weekend catching up on work, Rod." Ellie stood before her boss, Rodney Wickman. He made a name for himself designing Portia Belarino's $22 million penthouse back in the '80s. He used that money to start his company: Wickman Interiors. And they've been one of the most important and influential names in the industry for the last 39 years.

Rod looked her up and down. "Ellie," he started with a gentle disapproval, "you've gotta make time for the people who are important in your life." His light speech impediment belying a paternal quality.

Ellie didn't take this well. "What am I supposed to do, Rod? I've got the Williams account that has to be finished next week, the staging for the condos at the Towers is tomorrow, I have to oversee the Rockland-Smith account because I can't trust Sam to do it, and I have eight more leads that I have to follow up on because Eric is out on medic duty." She rattled each of these off breathlessly.

"Your job is important, but you have to learn how to delegate," he said. Rod's assistant Marie entered the room. She handed him a Post-it note. "You couldn't have sent this as an email?" He asked, shortly.

"The email's down again," she replied. “I gave you that bulletin about cyberattacks…”

Rod shook his head. “Third time this month,” turning back to Ellie and passing the note off to her, "well, now you've got nine leads to follow up on."

Ellie collapsed back into the fine Italian leather chair she was sitting in, defeat strewn across her face.

"Delegate," he said.

A few days later, Ellie's in her office overlooking the city's unmistakable skyline. The evening sun on the cusp of yawning a royal red upon the horizon.

Her blouse was crisply tucked into her skirt, her hair pulled back into a professional updo. She moved a strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear. She'd been at work for over 12 hours at this point, as evidenced by the wisps of hairs that came loose from her scrunchie.

A figure filled the frosted glass of her office door. A knock followed. "Come in," she shouted. A tall, blond man with a chiseled beard came through the door. He was wearing dark denim jeans and a thick flannel shirt. A loose-knit beanie covering barely enough of his head to stay on and accentuating his long, straight mane. His shoes appeared new, laces straight and clean.

"Griffin! What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I brought this for you. For your birthday," he said revealing a box of chocolate and a small gift-wrapped box.

"What?" Ellie asked, confused. "Today is not my..." She glanced down at her phone. June 12th. She turned 30 today—nearly 20 hours ago—and hadn't even realized.

Her shoulders slumped as she realized that Griffin of all the people in her life was the only one to remember today. Ellie had this bad habit of drunkenly hooking up with Griffin. She felt bad about leading him on. Especially because she knew he was looking for a relationship and even wanted to have a family. But she also found that guilt easy to shrug it off.

I've set the appropriate boundaries with him. In her mind, they were friends with benefits. That's it.

She looked up from her desk, "Griffin, thank you," her gratitude half-hearted. "Should I open this now?"

"Well, I'm guessing you've already opened your other presents," Griffin smiled, innocently. He didn't know that this was the only present she had received.

Ellie forced an uncomfortable smile and lied, "right, yeah. I have."

"Well, you don't have to. But you can if you want," his excitement to see her reaction was palpable.

Ellie looked down at the small gift, she began unwrapping it. Inside there was an ornate box and it folded open to reveal a silver necklace.

Ellie’s heart leapt, her eyes darted from the necklace to Griffin. "I... I can't accept this!" She set the box down on her desk—nearly dropping it as if it were radioactive—and pushed it towards him.

Griffin took a concerned step forward. "Why not. We were at the store the other day and I clearly remember you wanting it."

"This must have cost a small fortune." She struggled to continue... "you can't afford this. Why would you buy this for me?"

Griffin's face was suddenly flush, "I thought it would be…” he paused to search for a softer word to substitute for romantic… “a nice gesture.”

After studying his expression she realized that that this was his Hail Mary attempt at starting a relationship with her. "You know that this can't work," she said coldly. Adopting an almost clinical tone as she added, "I've made that clear."

Embarrassed, Griffin softly stepped back from her desk. "I'm sorry. I just thought you'd like it."

"I do," she paused to gaze at the necklace, "But I can't keep it." She replaced it in the box and handed it back to him. An uncomfortable silence filled the room until Griffin spun on his heel and started towards the door. Ellie’s heart sank. If Griffin had a tail, it would be between his legs. "Griffin, wait," she paused searching for some sort of consolation prize, "do you want to get dinner? We can get drinks and celebrate my 30th."

"This can't work," he paused, "you've made that abundantly clear."

Continue on to Chapter 2

About The Author:

B.E. Waites

B.E. Waites is a New England-based author. They're also a gamer and an amateur photographer. When they're not writing, they work in the public health sector.