Lucian Divine(66)

I STAYED INSIDE my apartment for a week working on my presentation. The morning of the interview, Laura came over to get some of her things. She acted nonchalant while she dug through my drawers, looking for random pairs of her underwear.

“Honestly, Laura, I’ll mail them to you if I find any. I have to get going.”

“Wow, Lucian, could you be any colder?”

“I have an interview.”

Her eyes perked up. “Where?”

“None of your business. I mean, Laura, you’re a gluten-free vegan.” I pointed at my chest. “You don’t need this fried dough. Be on your way now.”

She was squinting at me and shaking her head. “What’s gotten into you?”

“We’re not going to be friends. So you can leave now.”

“Your mom came into the hospital two days ago.”

That stopped me in my tracks. “What? Why didn’t I know about this?”

“She didn’t want to stress you out.”

Laura was such a conniving bitch. She wanted to sabotage everything for me. “Then why are you telling me now?”

“I just thought you should know. She wasn’t feeling well. She found a lump in her breast, and they’re running a bunch of tests.”

There was something strangely familiar about that news. Maybe like the day I discovered that my father had prostate cancer. I hated Laura for telling me that way, without a modicum of compassion. “Nice bedside manner. Get out of my apartment now.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, go now. You’re heartless… empty… cold. I’m done talking to you.”

“Now we’re resorting to blatant insults? That’s very mature.”

“Really, just get out, please.”

She left, huffing and puffing.

I checked the clock; I had to leave in ten minutes to make it to my interview on time. As if I could only move in slow motion, I dialed my mother’s number.

“Big day for you,” she said, sounding as chipper as ever.

“What’s going on with your health? Laura told me—”

“Lucian, this is not your problem.”

“You’re my mother. It is my problem. Just tell me.” I could feel myself breaking down. “Do you have cancer? I can’t take two parents going through that within two years.”

Her voice dropped, and she got serious as though she was scolding a little boy. “Listen to me. You go to that interview, and you hit it out of the park. And if you don’t give it your all, what will that mean to me? I’ll know in a few days what’s going on in my body, and you will be the first person I tell. I promise. Until then, go get that job. For me, for yourself.”

I couldn’t say anything.

“Did you hear me, young man? Do not do this to me or to your father’s wonderful legacy. He did not raise you this way. Keep it together.”

I was on the verge of tears. I couldn’t stop thinking about losing her. When I hung up, I looked at the clock. If I didn’t literally run all the way to the building, I would be late.

Sprinting with my messenger bag under my arm, I made it into the lobby five minutes before my interview. It felt like the elevator was the slowest one I had ever been in. I tried to collect myself.

Once I hit the eighth floor, I made my way to the offices. The secretary flirted with me—I thought that couldn’t hurt. I went into a large boardroom and did my presentation. It went by in a blur, but everyone clapped at the end.

Bradley, the man in charge, walked me out, slapping me hard on the back. “You did great, man.”

“Thanks.”

“You were our last interview. We’ve had a lot of really qualified applicants, but I could tell everyone in there liked you and the presentation.”

As we headed toward the elevator, I tried to read between the lines and decipher what he was saying. Was he letting me off easy or was he telling me I got the job?

“We should have a decision by tomorrow,” he said.





BLOWING OFF THE rest of the day drinking wasn’t usually my style, but I had nothing else to do. I was a worried sick about my mom, who was spending the evening with her best friend.

Walking up the hill, I passed the Star Wars bar. I hadn’t been in there in a while. I didn’t recognize any of the bartenders. I sat on the tattered red vinyl stool.

“Two fingers? Scotch right?” the bartender asked.

“No, I’ll just have a beer. I’ll take that Belgian on tap.”

The bartender shook his head. “I thought you were a whiskey guy. I must have mistaken you for someone else.”

I had never seen the guy in my life, but I did think it was funny that he was dressed as Princess Leia. They usually didn’t cross-dress at the Star Wars bar.

“What’s your name?” he said.

“Lucian.”

“I’m Zack.” He shook my hand.

“Nice to meet you, man.”

“So what brings you in?”

“I live close by,” I said. “Just wanted to pop in for a beer.”

“Ah, I see. Well, welcome.”

I sat in that bar, thinking about what tomorrow would bring. Princess Leia wouldn’t take his eyes off me. He kept shaking his head and making me feel really uncomfortable, so I decided to call it quits after two beers and head home.