I'm Fine and Neither Are You(66)
Her response wasn’t a surprise, per se, but it still made me angry—I was the only one on the senior management team who had not taken a full week off that summer.
But what could I do? I couldn’t quit. I wouldn’t throw a fit, and I wouldn’t retaliate by underperforming, because then I would mostly be punishing myself.
I thought about Sanjay’s request, and what he had said about me avoiding confrontation even when I was direct.
He was right—but not for long.
I closed the email and marched over to Yolanda’s office. When I got there an elderly couple was seated in front of her desk. They were immaculately dressed, and the woman was clutching a designer bag, which suggested they were major donors.
I may have been angry, but I wasn’t a complete imbecile; I continued past her door like I had never intended to stop and circled back around to my own. When I got to my desk, I emailed her to say I wanted to meet at her earliest possible convenience. Almost an hour later, Yolanda stepped into my office.
“There are policies and procedures,” she said in lieu of a greeting. “If you want to take a full week off, you need to follow them.”
I tilted my head up. “You asked what would incentivize my commitment to this department. And I finally figured it out. I could really—really— use a break.”
She stood in front of my desk with her hands resting on her hips. She was like a gazelle, her long, lean limbs quivering in anticipation of wherever she would dart off to next. “What about your work? You were recently out sick, and you’ve taken other time off this summer.” After Jenny’s death—we both knew what she was referring to. “I can’t imagine you’re caught up.”
“Actually, I have no donations in limbo, I’m up-to-date on all stewardship processes for previous donations, and Russell has already confirmed that he can cover for me while I’m away.”
“It’s a big ask,” she said.
If she thought this was a big ask, then my chances of switching to an 80 percent schedule were nil. I sighed and leaned back in my chair. Well, at least now I knew. I closed my eyes for a moment, thinking about what she’d said about my future in development.
When I opened my eyes again, she was still staring at me. “Yolanda,” I said as evenly as I could manage, “you’re a good supervisor, and I’m a good employee. A great employee, some would say. And because of that, we’ve always gotten along, and together we’ve done excellent work. But if I’m going to keep doing excellent work, I need to hit pause for more than two days.” I looked at her, amazed she was still listening and seemed to have no plans to interject.
I continued. “As you may recall, I’m still dealing with the death of my closest friend, and I never really gave myself time to grieve. In fact, aside from major holidays when the office is down, I haven’t been out for more than three concurrent days since my last maternity leave. So I’m asking if you will please overlook policies and procedures this one time and let me take a week of my month of unused vacation time so I can go get my head on straight.”
“I expect a full update before you leave,” she said, still doing the wide-stance Superwoman pose she was so fond of.
“Really?!” I said, unable to hide my glee.
She eyed me knowingly. “Yes, Penelope. I’d tell you to get your head on straight, but I’m not sure that’s what you need. Go enjoy your time off.”
As soon as Yolanda was gone, I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Then I reached for my phone and sent a message to Sanjay. How would you feel about some company in New York?
TWENTY-SIX
The nine-hour drive was time enough for every doubt in my mind to ferment and rise. After four nights with Riya, my children’s blood would turn to corn syrup. Yolanda would realize the position Russ and I shared was better suited for one person. And—most frightening of my many worries—this trip would change nothing for Sanjay and me.
This latter fear seemed particularly likely. On the way, we chatted about work and the kids and even Matt. But mostly I gazed out the window while he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and sang along to the playlists he’d prepared for the trip. These were not the sparks of connection I had been hoping for.
But fresh excitement bloomed within me as soon as I saw the skyline’s jagged edge. New York was where I had started my career. It was where I had stopped being the child whose mother had abandoned her and had become an adult with her own story. It was the place where Sanjay and I began—on a day that remained in the memory of every New Yorker who had been there.
We were at the office together that morning; Sanjay had been working at Hudson for only a few weeks, whereas I had already been there a year. I remember walking to the cubicle maze where my desk was located and realizing most of my coworkers were conspicuously missing, then wandering over to the break room, where I found everyone crowded around a television.
“What’s happening?” I asked Alex as I watched the footage of the North Tower burning.
“They think it was a propeller plane or maybe a charter flight,” she said. “A freak accident.”
But barely a minute had passed when a stricken newscaster announced that the South Tower had also been hit.
It was not an accident.
Our editor-in-chief instructed us to stay calm as we awaited instructions from the mayor or the federal government or someone who could tell us what to do next. Our offices were in Midtown, which was probably another target, we all agreed, but who knew what or where was safe? At any rate, no one had to be reminded to stay calm—we were all preternaturally sedate as we called our loved ones to let them know we were alive, at least for the time being, then returned to the television and desk radios to try to make sense of what was happening.