Spoiler Alert (Spoiler Alert #1)(6)
Billable had become an epithet to her in recent years.
Reputation in her industry could be a fragile thing. Could be damaged. By, say, the revelation that a seemingly serious and practical colleague liked to play dress-up as her favorite pretend TV character and spent most of her free time discussing fictional half gods.
Bashir rolled his eyes. “Of course he has opinions about women’s clothing. You told management, right?”
“Literally five minutes later.”
“Good.” Bashir walked by her side back toward the sampling table. “Hopefully they’ll fire his ass before much longer.”
“He knows nothing. Less than nothing, if that’s possible.” A pluck of her fingers at her shirt demonstrated how it clung damply to her. “I mean, look at how much we sweated today.”
“Copiously.” He glanced down at his own sweat-soaked orange shirt. “Disgustingly.”
Stopping by the table, she shook her head. “Exactly. Someone needs to set that new kid straight. Unless she wants to end up in the hospital for dehydration, she needs to bring water.”
Bashir inclined his head. “You would know.”
“I would know.”
And she did. Up until now, almost a third of her work hours as a geologist had been spent staying upwind of drill rigs like the one on this site, poring over soil samples to be logged and shoved into jars and sent off for lab testing. For a long time, she’d loved the processes and the challenges and even the physicality of doing fieldwork. Some part of her still did love it.
Not all of her, though. Not enough of her.
As they flipped the table on its side and folded its legs, Bashir paused. “You’re really leaving, huh?”
“Yup.” This was her last day visiting a contaminated site in her current role, her last week as a consultant at a private firm, and her last time washing dirt from her jeans. “I’ll miss you, but it’s time. Past time.”
In less than a week, she was moving from Sacramento to Berkeley. And in less than two weeks, Future April would begin her new job at a state regulatory agency in Oakland, overseeing the work of consultants like Current April, which would mean more meetings and document analysis, and less time in the field.
She was ready. For so many reasons, personal and professional both.
Once she and Bashir had all their supplies back in the truck, she changed into her regular glasses and removed her other personal protective equipment. With a sigh of relief, she untied her dusty boots and deposited them in a plastic bag, then put on her battered but clean sneakers. Beside her, he did the same.
Then she was done. Finally, blessedly done, and desperate for a shower, a cheeseburger, and approximately a gallon of ice water. Not to mention some more Lavineas fanfiction, group chats on the server, and DMs with Book!AeneasWouldNever. Hopefully BAWN had written while she was working.
First, though, she and Bashir needed to say their goodbyes.
“I don’t know if you already have plans for the weekend, but Mimi and I would love to treat you to dinner. To celebrate your new job and say farewell.” Even after several years of working together, he was still shy enough to fidget while issuing the invitation. “She knows you’re my favorite colleague.”
As he was one of hers, and she considered his wife Mimi a genuine friend too.
But even they didn’t know everything about her. Specifically, that she spent most evenings and weekends immersed in the Gods of the Gates fandom: tweeting about her OTP, writing and betaing and reading fanfic, chatting on the Lavineas server, and employing her vast enthusiasm and infinitesimal costume-construction skill to cosplay Lavinia.
One stray pic at a con, one slip of the tongue, and her reputation might suffer. She could devolve from an experienced professional into a silly fangirl in less time than it took for her to log a soil sample.
So she hadn’t attended Gods of the Gates cons. She hadn’t told work friends about her fandom. Not even friends she liked as much as Bashir.
The state regulators at her new job, though . . .
Well, the difference in culture couldn’t have been clearer. The personal and the professional were inextricable there. Intertwined in the most joyful and hilarious ways.
When she arrived in less than two weeks, she’d become the fifth person on their team of geologists. The third woman. When she’d gone in to complete her I-9 last week, the other women, Heidi and Mel, had offered April a slice of the cake the team had brought to work in celebration of the women’s tenth anniversary as a couple.
Mel and the two guys on the team—Pablo and Kei—were in a freakin’ band together. A band. One that evidently performed for retirement parties and other gatherings in which their unique folk music talents couldn’t successfully be avoided.
They’re terrible, Heidi had whispered, her mouth half-hidden behind her water bottle, but they all enjoy it so much, we can’t say anything.
At that moment, in that dreary state-government-bureaucrat’s office suite, something taut to the point of snapping inside April had eased. Any remaining doubts had disappeared.
She’d made the right decision to change jobs, even with the pay cut. Even with the price of housing in the Bay Area. Even with the hassle of moving.
At her new workplace, she wouldn’t need to shield different parts of herself for fear of others’ disapproval. As of next week, billability no longer concerned her.