Chapter 2

Sarah was always good at making me feel a little saner when I needed it, never aware of how I drew from that uncomplicated relaxed manner of hers when I had to ground myself.

“I’m going to work.” I walk steadily into the small hall by the side of the bar which juts out into the lounge and lift the few open letters from the counter I’ve yet to deal with today. I know that I’m lingering and acting indecisively compared to my usual efficient routine. Normally I’d already be walking to the subway station, despite being early.

“Oh, here,” Sarah says, sliding a white envelope out from behind the toaster and holding it out expectantly for me to take, a blank look on her face. “Before I forget … I know you’ve probably already taken care of them, as usual.” Her sparkling eyes flash at me with affectionate amusement.

“What is it?” I look at the long envelope, taking it from her slowly with careful fingers, eyeing it up with a frown, seeing no writing on the front.

“My half of the utilities and the rent. I got paid early.” She smiles brightly and sets about making herself breakfast, pulling a loaf of bread open and sliding slices into the toaster.

“Right. And yes, I’ve taken care of it already … thank you.” I take it and slide it into my bag to bank at lunch, mentally noting down a memo to do so. I ritually pay our bills at the start of every month when I’m paid; having a very good wage in a great company with many perks makes it effortless to make sure we are always up to date.

“No surprise there then,” she mumbles and throws me another affectionate look, all cute eyes and gentle sighs as she regards me with a sideways look that I clearly catch. I just shake my head at her, fully aware that she prefers that I take control of our living expenses and always has. She’s never been good with money, and I doubt she would remember to pay the rent on time without my ever-efficient presence to do so. Taking care of things is how I like it; it gives me purpose, control, and a focus in my life that I so desperately need to thrive.

“I won’t be home until six o’clock, Sarah. I presume you’ll be at work by then, so have a wonderful day.” I move away from the breakfast bar and head for the main door of our apartment, lifting my warm jacket as I pass the dining table, and turn with a smile when I reach the dark slate door.

“Oh, wait … good luck on meeting your super-hot boss for the first time, Miss Anderson!” she beams at me excitedly, raising her eyebrows, leaning out across the countertop so all I can see is her head popping out from the kitchen at a funny angle. She looks messy but cute and far too awake for her today. I smile back emptily, not wanting to give my feelings away or show any weakness.

“Thanks.” My face heats slightly with the rise of nerves hitting my stomach hard again, but I ignore the sensation, swallowing it all down with the expertise of a seasoned actress.

“Are you nervous?” she probes with a little furrow of her brow, still leaning out a little too far to watch me adjust my briefcase handle and pull my outside jacket on over my suit. I frown back at her question, the tightening knot in my stomach intensifying somewhat, but I shake my head ‘no’ in reply. If I admit it to her then I admit it to myself, then my nerves will get the better of me and I’ll lose my edge.

That just wouldn’t do at all.

“Of course, you’re not. You never are!” she adds quickly with a grin and slides back into her little culinary world, oblivious to anything amiss in my behavior today. I smile again as I watch her recede and turn with a wave of my fingertips before heading out the door on my mission to get to work.

Sweet Sarah. She’s so sure of my capabilities and cool, outward confidence that I sometimes wonder if she even remembers the old me at all, if she even associates me with the girl I was when we met, so many years ago?

I close the door behind me quietly, holding onto the handle for a second as I take a deep steadying breath and take a moment to be still, refusing to let emotion get the better of me and crack my armor. Looking down at the cool silver knob as a way of calming myself once more, I steady that creep of inner nerves and push down all my anxiety and fears.

I can do this.

It’s what I’ve been working so hard for; finally, my abilities are being recognized after years of hard work and climbing the corporate ladder. I need to push down the inner doubts and the final traces of my adolescent Emma to focus on the tasks ahead of me and the responsibilities I’ll be taking on after today. It is heady and overwhelming, but I steel my nerves inwardly, stilling my hands against me as I’ve practiced a million times in the last ten years. Everyday I’ve worked toward this person I’ve become, this cool and confident persona known as Emma Anderson.

It takes a moment to be able to walk away from the door, but as I do, the armor slides up and the mask fully connects with my face. Each step strengthens my resolve, back to my normal practiced demeanor and that inner me, finding the will power and steady strength to pull this off day after day. I head to the subway station.