Chapter 16:  Fixed Coordinates

"Look Cinna Buns, all of your toys are in here now," I said with faux joy, while showing her a little cardboard box. "Until we move that is..."

The little cat didn't care where her playthings were as long as her litter box and food were easily accessible. I jumped, back first, onto my bed next to her and wiggled my toes. It was awkward having to pack up so suddenly, but I wasn't going to be able to breathe until I was alone. After a call from my mom, she– of course– panicked and told me to stay with Greta. My mom is always thinking of my well-being and security first, and being alone in the city was not on that agenda for her.

"Ada," Greta whined outside of my door for the fifth time of the evening.

I rolled my eyes and turned to my cat that hissed at the door. Finally, my little furry puff was on my side.

"Goodnight!" I gruffly shouted to dismiss her.

She scoffed, "It's 7PM!"

"I have a long day tomorrow!" I retorted.

I did. I had a lot more to pack up when I returned to the apartment, but before any of that, I had to finalize arrangements for a moving truck and that wasn't cheap in the city.

"Can I please talk to you?" she grumbled.

I rolled off the bed and opened the door, "Yes?"

"Are you seriously moving?" she scoffed.

I shrugged, before glancing to the obvious boxes around my bedroom, "Yeah, is that bad?"

Frustrated, Greta shouted, "Yes! We're best friends! Why are–"

I lifted up a finger and she paused, "Stop right there. You planned for George to move into my space, not with us... but in my space... you locked my kitten in my room and let her almost starve and destroy everything including our security deposit, but worst of all... you judged the shit out of me when I explained why I got fired."

"You got fired because you were being inappropriate, right?" she recalled while securing a hand on her hip.

"Eeeh!" I screeched. "Much more complicated than that."

She shook her head and sighed, "Then what is it?"

"It doesn't matter now, does it? Plus, let's not forget all that shit about me having no ambition and being a failure," I added.

She pouted and tried, "That's not how I meant for it to come out"

"Oh! So... did you want to shower some sprinkles and thwack a scoop of ice cream at me before you tried to sugarcoat your way of saying I'm not going anywhere in my life?"

She tried to reason again, "You had to see it from my side."

"And I did after you said so. It's clearly been on your mind and came out– as such– in the heat of anger," I glared.

Her disbelief appeared sincere. "Are you wanting to end our friendship because of this?"

I asked through my teeth, "I'm taking my needed space, Greta. Now, may I have it?"

How many times do I have to ask this question?

She rolled her eyes before turning on her heels.

I added,"And I'll have your last check on the kitchen counter on Friday morning."

Then, I shut the door.

*

I walked into my cube and sat down at my seat. It was wise to make a trip to the bathroom before heading to the floor because I hadn't stopped compulsively crying since last night. The brief encounter with Greta was still bugging the hell out of me.

Seriously? You don't see how kicking me out– and saying the shit you did– isn't a problem?

I pulled out another paper towel from my bag and wiped my nose with it. Crying was the worst, but I couldn't stop wiping my face. This day was going to be brutal with my stupid emotions, all of the professional work, and my personal tasks. I figured knowing I was moving on would be reason enough for me to feel better about everything. When I called the local moving company, I sounded remotely normal to the manager, but as soon as I hung up... tears!

"Why am I so weak?" I groaned to myself when I returned to my desk.

I needed to ask for a day off if this was how the rest of the week was going to be. It was my third day back and I was already daring to ask for leave.

Chris wasn't opposed to it, but it had to be flown by the big boss since I work with him directly too.

I stared at the clock after sending my email. After thirty seconds, I received a reply that resulted in me traveling to the elevator.

The deadpan look on my face was going to have to go. I hated knowing that looking sad or remotely unhappy would provoke him to look for answers he didn't deserve. Faking it was going to have to do wonders for me this time around. Though, it was going to be tough when I felt so tired.

The signs of a smile started with a twitch on one side before the other could follow. It wasn't too much, but it wasn't too little.

I want to look just fine. Just fine.

With the face of the old Ada, I was approaching his door. The presence of the president was becoming a game, and it was one that I was winning– considering that she was still absent from an unlit office. Sadly, I did wish she were around; it's guaranteed that he would second-guess his actions.

That's a lie.

Glancing through his window, I saw that he was using the landline. It was clear that he had already been anticipating my arrival, as he was he already watching me with a crossed expression through his window. Promptly, Mr. Leoné signaled for me to come in, and I noiselessly did so before I closed the door and walked toward his desk.

"Mmm hmm," he returned on the line with a thin pair of lips.

Mr. Leoné gestured for me to sit down, and I did so without resistance since I was there to ask him a favor.

"Understood. Richard, let me call you back, I have an important meeting to tend to right now," he quickly dismissed. I wasn't sure if this Richard had time to reply before Mr. Leoné hung up on him.

"Ms. Young, you're already requesting for time off?" he asked, raking his fingers once through his hair.

The soft smile was still on my face, but my eyes weren't able to look at my subject. My head was down.

I really didn't want to talk to him but I had to. "Mr. Leoné, I know it's soon but–"

"Ada," he murmured.

I lifted my head, but kept my eyes on the top of his desk, "I am here to request a day off on Friday, if possible."

"This another appointment?" he asked. I flashed a glance at him and saw a hint of dismay.

"I'm moving," I confessed.

He immediately demanded, "Where?"

The shock curbed my mousiness, "Mr. Leoné... please. I don't think I have to disclose that information"

"You would have to change your paperwork any how," He rigidly reminded me. "Now, where are you moving, Ms. Young?"

Giving up, I shrugged, "Into downtown, closer to work."

"Problems at that tall brick shack?" he prompted.

My fists tightened in my lap. I shook my head and whimpered with anger, "Yes. Yes I'm having issues at that brick piece of shit, Mr. Leoné. So, is it possible for me to have a day off to move from one shitty unworthy place to another?"

Of course my frank comment had him preparing to say something, but I couldn't take entering into another fight with someone that saw me as foolish.

"Never mind, sir. I'm sorry for wasting your time," I sobbed, before standing up and rushing to his door.

Goddammit, you fucking failed again!

"Ada!" he called from behind, but I was too fast on my feet and closing his door.

Everything was evolving into the damn disaster I knew it would. This was truly scaring me. I was losing my mind, and I had to figure out a way to get my shit together. My thumb pressed several times against the "down" button, but of course the elevator to a tall building never guaranteed speed.  I could feel the familiar fast-paced thuds approaching, and my next best option was the nearby stairwell. But before I could dart for the exit, there was a tug at my wrist.

"Mr. Leoné, please! I need to go!" Shocked, I exclaimed pulling my wrist from him.

"You can't go anywhere like this!" he barked.

"Fine! I'll stand right here," I threatened, starting him right in the eyes.

I hated that I knew he wouldn't be able to take it, but him looking away from me was what I wanted. I was going to press the button once more, but he stopped me– his hand touching mine.

"I said you can't go anywhere like this," he softly reinforced.

I pleaded, "I want to go back to my desk."

"You will come back to my office and sit on the couch," he commanded. "Now."

I turned up to glare at him. His eyes were no longer averted, and I realized that I underestimated the ability of my stare when it was matched with his. My eyes fluttered as I tried to contain my heavy breaths and accept that I couldn't win the match this time around. I was so angry; I was losing at every point of the game. All of the negative parts of my life were blending together and I just wanted to disappear.

Resistance was evident in my walk back down the hall with him. I had one goal, just one goal: to keep my cool.

He won't even let me do that.

"Ms. Young you are highly resistant to my requests," he sighed, after closing his office door.

"Requests?" I compulsively snapped. "I am surprised you confuse language so much. Don't you mean demands? Commands? Assertions? Disrespect?"

"Watch your mouth, Ms. Young," he snarled.

The instinct to respond was too great. "My sharp-tongued mouth?"

Reddened cheeks emphasized my boss's nostril flare. His fists clenched, and he shut his eyes before stalking to take a few steps away from me.

Back to the old ways, already? No. I refuse to do this again.

Swallowing hard, I did my best to calm myself down. If I just forget about the past and see him purely as my boss that was enough to give me a second chance in the salaried world, I could get through this. The situation's complications were unraveling me again. My face was straight but the abundance of tears I shamefully wiped away said otherwise.

"Mr. Leoné, if there is no professional reason for me to be in your office, I will see myself back to my desk," I reiterated calmly, still attempting to rid of my emotional symptoms.

"I see," he grumbled, surveying me with tapered eyes.

Okay... good.

Ready to take my leave, again, I turned around and stepped to his door. However, I stopped when I heard, "How many hours, Ms. Young?"

Turning only my head, I replied in confusion, "I'm sorry?"

He brusquely elaborated, "How many hours of sleep?"

Turning on my heels, I tilted my head to him in confusion. The look on his face baffled me; he looked really pissed.

"Mr. Leoné, how is this at all relevant?" I muttered.

"You know exactly why," he answered.

I slowly shook my head, "No, no I don't."

His cryptic intonations were in the air, and I knew that meant it was time to leave as soon as possible. Turning back to grab the handle, I couldn't turn it as I froze at the sound of his footsteps again.

My boss had stepped well past the HR friendly line and stared down at me in anger. "Why are you crying?"

"I don't feel compelled to–"

He interrupted to repeat himself, "Why are you crying?"

Turning my eyes away, I scowled and answered, "I'm not crying."

"Really? Considering that you think I read the dictionary during my leisure time, I'm sure I can spot and define the definition of crying, Ms. Young. So, explain yourself," he spat back.

"I'm just tired, okay?!" I retorted, effortlessly losing my cool again. "I have a lot on my plate, and all I have been trying to do is not bring my personal life and problems into work."

He swiftly demanded, "Personal problems? What problems?"

"It's not any of your business!" I shrieked.

"Is that so?!" he shot back.

Before I could contest, he abruptly swept me up and carried me to his leather couch. My eyes were only moments away from popping out of my head.

"You must be out of your damn mind," I whispered, writhing with anger.

He took in a deep breath, "Ms. Young... you will sit until you are emotionally capable of expressing yourself without shouting, whining, or crying."

"I am not a dog," I growled. "Now, put me down."

"You dare tell me what to do?" he asked, green eyes narrowed with blaring arrogance.

"Yes," I answered through my teeth. "Put me down... now."

And he did just that, dropping me butt first on the Corinthian leather seating. Apparently, he felt accomplished, looking down at me with smiling eyes.

In anger, I scrambled off of the couch, but I was being pulled back and swept up once more.

"You are completely out of line!" I shouted as I squirmed.

"If you wouldn't be so stubborn, you'd see that I know what's best," he combated.

He dropped me on the couch again, but this time I wasn't able to scamper away so easily. His finger was pointed at me. His red-faced expression was shockingly getting to me, but in a way that he probably didn't want. Quickly, I swatted his hand away, and silently dared him to lift his hand to me again.

"You just control don't you," I grumbled.

His stare was deep and intruding. I refused to remove my glare from his. But my attention drifted to his lips as he said, "You have no idea, Ms. Young. Now, sit... down."

"And what if I don't?"

He answered factually, "I will put you back again and again and exhaust you until you tire from the thought of moving."

"Well, Mr. Leoné, I have a lot of energy, and you're a busy man. You won't want to waste your time handling me," I informed the mad man with a devious grin.

"Ms. Young, I spend every waking hour trying to find solutions to challenges. And I always find a solution..."