Second First Impressions by Sally Thorne EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Sally Thorne
- Language: English
- Genre: Women’s Friendship Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
One of the “benefits” of working in the front office of Providence
Retirement Villa is I receive feedback on every aspect of my lifestyle and
appearance, whether I want it or not. (I do not.) Here are the three questions
the residents always have for me:
• How old are you? (Twenty-five)
• Do you have a boyfriend? (No)
• Why not? (Miscellaneous reasons, none of which will satisfy them)
“There’s more to life than having a boyfriend,” I once told Mrs. Whittaker
as we walked up the rain-slicked front path to her town house, her arm
hooked into mine. “I’m right where I want to be, helping you all.”
“That’s true, Ruthie, honey. You’re a good worker,” she replied to me.
“But boyfriends are a very nice part of life. I once had three at the same
time.” She shuffled inside, her walking stick clicking on the tiles. Just as I
was thinking I’d misunderstood, she said over her shoulder, “They knew each
other, so it wasn’t awkward. Boy oh boy, I was exhausted. You’re prettier
than I was, why don’t you try doing that?”
I was left on the doorstep, fighting the urge to ask some follow-up
questions, primarily:
• How?
It’s likely Mrs. Whittaker could still get more action than me, and she’s
eighty-seven. I think about that conversation a lot.
While my boss, Sylvia, is on her cruise, I get her desk with the good view.
I’m emailing maintenance, and I’m also grappling with my daily three P.M.
wave of melancholy. I save a yogurt for this exact moment. Sitting at my
usual desk is Melanie Sasaki, the temp. She doesn’t understand the concept
of pacing oneself, so she eats her lunch at 10:30 A.M. I can hear her stomach
growling as I peel open my snack.
In a desperate outburst in the silence, she says, “Ruthie, I was thinking
about you.”
I wish she wouldn’t. “Let me just finish this email to maintenance, then we
can talk.”
I know I sound like a prissy jerk, but to survive these next two months as
acting office manager, I’ve been trying to enforce a quiet-time policy. When
Sylvia is here, I never speak to her if she’s typing. Or clicking. Or unless she
speaks to me first.
Hey. I haven’t been this relaxed in years.
Melanie would probably talk while under a general anesthetic. “Let’s make
you a dating profile.”
I break my own silence rule. “How do you know I don’t have one?” She’s
teasing me, I know it. The residents of Providence are, generally speaking,
brutally honest with me. But it’s always well intentioned.
She says, “You don’t even have an Instagram account, so you’re not
exactly the type to put yourself out there. Am I wrong?”
She’s not. “Let me just finish this, Mel.” Quiet Time Shields Up.
I reword my request to maintenance from a where the hell are you guys to
a more diplomatic as per my last email. There’s only so much DIY I can
learn from YouTube.
When that’s sent, I find a Word document titled “RUTHIE_ PROFILE” in
my personal folder. According to the file history, it hasn’t been accessed
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