Terrible Advice From a Career Temp- Chapter Five: Most Days are a Grind

It was painfully early when Piper made it back from Oahu.

She had taken a red-eye, followed by a rideshare for the final leg of the journey, and by the time Dena picked her up outside the old-town mall, Piper looked like a piece of airport luggage that had been routed through three wrong cities.

The sun was just beginning to stretch across the parking lot.

Piper sat on the curb with both arms wrapped around her backpack as though it contained the last scraps of her dignity.

Dena pulled up in the Geo.

She took one look at her daughter.

“Oh, honey.”

Piper looked up.

Dena got out.

“What happened?”

Piper accepted the hug without standing.

“A lot.”

That was all she had the energy to explain.

A few minutes later, she slumped into the passenger seat.

“Can we get coffee?”

“Of course.”

“Hawk said he'd call. I'm running on fumes.”

Dena started the car.

They made it several blocks before she asked:

“So. Was it Hawk?”

Piper stared through the window.

“Yes.”

Dena glanced at her.

Piper sighed.

“And no.”

“That's usually not a good answer.”

“No.”

Piper rested her forehead against the glass.

“It was everything around Hawk. And then it was Hawk.”

That sounded closer to the truth.

Dena drove them to a local coffee shop with a drive-through staffed by baristas who always

appeared to consume more caffeine than they sold.

The line was unusually long for sunrise.

Piper was too tired to question it.

Dena glanced over.

“What happened?”

Piper closed her eyes.

“Hawk kept getting called into work.”

“Oh.”

“Except apparently he knew that might happen.”

Dena frowned.

“Before you flew out?”

“Yep.”

“He told you that?”

“Eventually.”

Piper sat up.

“He knew his schedule was a mess. He knew they might call him in. He knew he might have to commute to another island. He just thought it would probably work out.”

Dena's expression hardened.

“And he still flew you to Hawaii?”

“That's the part I'm stuck on.”

Piper had gone over it repeatedly on the flight home.

Hawk had paid for the ticket.

At first she'd treated that like generosity.

Now it felt different.

A plane ticket wasn't much of a gift if someone used it to transport you somewhere and then left you there.

“He rents a room with this awful guy from work,” Piper continued. “The place is in the

middle of nowhere. No car. No bus stop. Nothing within walking distance. Hawk would leave, and I'd just be there.”

“All day?”

“Pretty much.”

Dena frowned.

“I spent most of my Hawaiian vacation sitting in some guy's rental house waiting for somebody to come home.”

“I'm sorry, baby.”

“Oh, that's not even the worst part.”

Dena looked over.

“His roommate got drunk one night and threw up on me.”

Dena blinked.

“On you?”

“On me.”

“Oh, Piper.”

“Then his girlfriend cornered me and started crying because apparently he wanted to cheat on her with me.”

Dena blinked again.

“Who?”

“The roommate.”

“Oh.”

“Not Hawk.”

“Good.”

“Although at that point, the distinction wasn't improving the vacation much.”

Dena nodded.

Piper folded her arms.

“The guy had already been making comments.”

“What kind of comments?”

“The kind where you spend the whole time wondering if you're imagining it because he hasn't technically said anything bad enough yet.”

Dena's expression changed.

Piper continued.

“He'd find reasons to sit too close. He'd ask whether Hawk and I were actually together. He made comments about my body. He kept telling me I was his type.”

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Exactly.”

“And Hawk knew?”

“I told him.”

“What did he say?”

Piper laughed without humor.

“That his roommate talks like that to everybody.”

Dena stared at her.

“That's it?”

“Basically.”

Piper could still hear Hawk saying it.

That's just him.

He runs his mouth.

Don't take him seriously.

As if Piper's discomfort had been a misunderstanding she needed to overcome rather than something Hawk needed to take seriously.

“I told Hawk I didn't want to be left alone with him anymore.”

“And?”

“He said the guy wasn't dangerous.”

“How would Hawk know?”

“Thank you.”

Piper threw one hand into the air.

“He kept acting like I was being dramatic. Like it was some military-guy thing I didn't understand. Boys being boys. Guys messing around. Whatever.”

Dena's jaw tightened.

“Then his girlfriend told me he'd been talking about trying to sleep with me.”

Dena looked furious now.

“And you were alone in the house with him?”

“Repeatedly.”

“Piper.”

“I know.”

“Did you tell Hawk that?”

“Yes!”

The word came out louder than Piper intended.

She rubbed her face.

“I called him. I told him everything. And you know what he said?”

Dena waited.

“He said his roommate was probably just running his mouth.”

Dena's eyebrows rose.

Piper nodded.

“Exactly.”

That was the moment, more than anything, that had changed the trip.

Hawk hadn't caused his roommate's behavior.

Piper knew that.

But she'd expected Hawk to care that she was uncomfortable.

Instead, he had treated her discomfort like an inconvenience.

Like Piper was asking him to solve some petty interpersonal drama while he was busy doing important Marine things.

“So I told the roommate off,” Piper said. “Then his girlfriend got mad at me because I told him she'd warned me.”

Dena opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

“I booked a flight home before anybody could vomit on me again.”

“You left all of this out when you called.”

“I didn't want to talk about it anymore.”

“What did Hawk say when you told him you were leaving?”

Piper's expression tightened.

“That's where it gets even better.”

Dena waited.

“He told me not to.”

“Why?”

“Because he was going to cancel my return ticket.”

Dena stared.

“What?”

“He wanted to change it.”

“To when?”

Piper gave her a long look.

“He didn't know.”

Dena blinked.

“He didn't know?”

“Nope.”

Piper laughed again.

“He thought if I stayed longer, eventually he'd get some time off and then we'd actually get to spend time together.”

“How much longer?”

“He didn't know.”

“A day?”

“Didn't know.”

“Two days?”

“Didn't know.”

“A week?”

“Mom. He. Did. Not. Know.”

Dena gripped the steering wheel.

“So where were you supposed to stay while waiting?”

“With Hawk.”

“And the roommate.”

“And the roommate.”

“The roommate who wanted to sleep with you.”

“Apparently.”

Dena was silent.

Piper stared ahead.

That was the part she couldn't get past.

Hawk hadn't asked whether Piper could stay longer.

He hadn't asked whether she had school.

Work.

Family obligations.

Plans.

He'd simply decided the sensible solution was to move her flight.

Because his schedule hadn't worked out.

As if Piper's time existed in a holding pattern around his.

“He acted surprised when I said no,” Piper said.

Dena shook her head.

“I told him I had to go home.”

“You did.”

“I have school. I'm looking for work. Sofie has the baby. You guys need help.”

“You don't have to justify coming home.”

“I know.”

Piper looked down at her hands.

“That might be what made me maddest.”

“What?”

“He made me feel like I did.”

Eventually, they reached the front of the coffee line.

A relentlessly cheerful nineteen-year-old leaned out of the drive-through window.

Her name tag read Annie, complete with a heart over the i.

Dena ordered Earl Grey.

Piper ordered a plain double-shot Americano.

Before Dena could hand over her debit card, Annie beamed.

“GREAT NEWS!”

Piper flinched.

“The person ahead of you already paid for your drinks! We've had a Pay-It-Forward chain going since six this morning. It's our longest one ever!”

Annie appeared to be vibrating with civic pride.

“Would you like to pay for the people behind you and keep it going?”

Piper finally understood why the line had been moving slower than grief.

Dena looked at the menu.

“How much was our order?”

Annie checked.

“Eight twenty-six.”

“And theirs?”

Another tap.

“Thirty-seven oh-two. Not including tip.”

Piper's head lifted.

“Thirty-seven dollars?”

Annie nodded brightly.

Then she pointed toward an aggressively full tip jar.

It looked like the jar had a better emergency fund than Piper.

Dena hesitated.

Piper leaned across her.

“Absolutely not. We'll just take our drinks.”

Annie's smile faltered.

She glanced toward the vehicle behind them.

Piper followed her gaze.

A pristine G-Wagon.

“Really?” Annie asked.

Piper stared at her.

“Yes, Annie. Really.”

Dena whispered:

“Piper.”

“No. I am not buying thirty-seven dollars' worth of coffee for somebody driving a luxury SUV.”

Annie looked wounded.

Piper's bloodshot eyes narrowed.

“If keeping the chain alive is that important to you, you've got a whole jar of funding right there.”

“Piper!”

Annie silently handed over the drinks with the expression of someone who had just witnessed the collapse of civil society.

Dena reached for cash.

Piper saw her.

“No.”

“I was going to tip.”

“For our drinks?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“Eight dollars.”

Piper intercepted her hand.

“Absolutely not.”

“Give me my money.”

“Mom, stop.”

“Piper.”

“Drive.”

Dena drove away, mortified.

“You didn't have to be rude.”

Piper took a long drink of coffee.

The caffeine reached her bloodstream and located the remaining fragment of her personality.

“That coffee shop pays more per hour than you make at the clinic.”

“That's not Annie's fault.”

“We're driving a Geo held together by actual tape.”

“It is one piece of tape.”

“The car behind us cost more than our apartment building.”

“You don't know that.”

“It had a Mercedes emblem the size of a dinner plate.”

Dena sighed.

Piper settled deeper into her seat.

“I refuse to fund somebody's thirty-seven-dollar morning pick-me-up because somebody else bought me a three-dollar coffee.”

“You got an Americano.”

“Exactly. I'm practically a minimalist.”

Dena wisely abandoned the subject.

For approximately thirty seconds.

“So.”

Piper knew what was coming.

“You and Hawk?”

Piper watched the town pass outside.

“I don't know.”

“You like him.”

“Yeah.”

“Does he like you?”

“I think so.”

“That sounds promising.”

“It used to.”

Dena waited.

Piper stared at her coffee.

“I think Hawk's turning into a jarhead.”

Dena glanced over.

“Aren't Marines jarheads?”

“I mean the bad kind.”

“There's a good kind?”

“The funny kind.”

Dena waited.

Piper tried again.

“When I met him, being a Marine was something Hawk did. It wasn't his entire personality.”

“And now?”

“Now everything is the Marines.”

She looked out the window.

“Work comes first. His schedule comes first. His buddies get a pass because they're Marines. I'm supposed to understand because he's a Marine. If something makes me uncomfortable, apparently I just don't understand how guys are.”

Dena nodded slowly.

“He's losing whatever made him...Hawk.”

That hurt to admit.

San Diego Hawk had been funny.

Capable.

Confident.

He'd made Piper feel safe without making a performance out of protecting her.

This Hawk had invited her thousands of miles from home, knowing he might barely see her, left her stranded with a man who made sexual comments toward her, brushed off her concerns, and then decided Piper should extend her vacation indefinitely until his schedule became convenient.

“He wasn't like this before,” Piper said.

“People change.”

“I know.”

That was the problem.

“Maybe San Diego was a fluke.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe Hawk and I are two puzzle pieces from different puzzles.”

“That's dramatic.”

“I just got vomited on in Hawaii. I've earned dramatic.”

“Fair.”

Piper took another drink.

“I don't want a life where I'm waiting around all day for somebody to come home. I already did that with Lindo.”

“Hawk isn't Lindo.”

“I know.”

And Piper meant it.

Hawk hadn't treated her the way Lindo had.

Not remotely.

But Piper recognized something about herself in Hawaii that she didn't like.

Waiting.

Again.

Building her plans around somebody else's schedule.

Again.

Depending on a man to make an unfamiliar place feel like home.

Again.

Only this time there was something else.

Hawk expected it.

That was what made Piper angry.

He'd behaved as though the fact that he'd bought the ticket meant Piper should simply remain available until he had time for her.

But Piper's time belonged to Piper.

Even if she wasn't important yet.

Even if she didn't have a career.

Even if her family lived in a cramped apartment.

Even if she was broke.

Her time still mattered.

“I think he's selfish,” Piper said.

Dena didn't immediately answer.

“Maybe not intentionally. But he is.”

Piper looked down.

“He thinks because his work is important, everybody else's life is supposed to bend around it.”

“And you're not willing to do that?”

“No.”

The answer came easily.

“No, I'm not.”

Dena nodded.

“Well, you did get a job interview.”

Piper turned so quickly she nearly spilled her coffee.

“What?”

“They called yesterday. I took a message.”

“For what?”

“T-shirt printing company.”

Piper sat upright.

“Oh! I applied there forever ago.”

“I know.”

“I thought they rejected me.”

“Apparently not.”

Piper smiled.

“Maybe my luck's turning around.”

“Hopefully you'll have a job before fall semester starts.”

“I took a full schedule.”

Dena looked over.

“You did?”

“Yep. I'm meeting with my counselor Monday.”

“Well, look at you.”

Piper smiled into her coffee.

The morning suddenly seemed slightly less terrible.

She had somewhere to be Monday.

Something that existed independently of Hawk.

That mattered more than it had a week ago.

They pulled into the driveway.

Dena killed the engine.

“Be extra quiet when we go in. Smol has been waking up at every little sound.”

They crept inside.

Dena carefully placed her purse on the counter.

The buckle made the faintest:

Clink.

From the other room came a shriek worthy of an emergency broadcast system.

Piper froze.

Dena closed her eyes.

“See?”

Smol continued screaming.

Piper whispered:

“How does something that small have that much volume?”

“No idea.”

“Does she have lungs or bagpipes?”

Dena hurried toward the crying baby.

Piper watched her go.

Hawk probably would have called this exactly the sort of thing she needed a vacation from.

Maybe sometimes it was.

But this was her family.

Sofie needed help.

Dena needed help.

Sometimes Piper needed them.

She didn't resent that.

Obligation wasn't always imprisonment.

Sometimes it was what people did when they loved one another.

That was another thing she wasn't sure Hawk understood anymore.

Piper retreated to the bedroom.

She dropped her backpack onto the floor, sat on the bed and checked her phone.

Nothing from Hawk.

She waited.

Still nothing.

Eventually exhaustion won.

That evening, her phone finally buzzed.

Hawk.

Piper opened the message.

wish you were here

She stared at it.

That was it.

No:

I'm sorry I brought you out here when I knew my schedule was uncertain.

No:

I'm sorry I left you alone with someone who made you uncomfortable.

No:

I'm sorry I dismissed you when you told me about it.

No:

I'm sorry I tried to rearrange your flight without asking whether you could stay.

Just:

wish you were here

Piper stared at the words until irritation crawled up the back of her neck.

Of course he wished she were there.

He'd wanted her to stay.

Indefinitely.

Waiting.

Then whenever Hawk finally got a day off, Piper was apparently supposed to materialize, rested and cheerful, grateful that his schedule had finally found room for her.

A week earlier, wish you were here would have made her melt.

Now it annoyed her.

Something had changed between them.

Piper couldn't pretend otherwise.

She still had feelings for Hawk.

Strong ones.

That was partly why she was so angry.

She had arrived in Hawaii wanting the version of him she'd carried around in her head since

San Diego.

Funny.

Capable.

Confident.

The handsome stranger who'd appeared on one of the worst days of her life and gotten her home safely.

But this Hawk was different.

Not completely.

Enough.

He seemed harder.

More dismissive.

More convinced that his world was the important one and everybody outside it simply needed to adjust.

He was becoming one of those guys who answered every objection with some version of:

That's just how it is.

His roommate made women uncomfortable?

That's just him.

Work ruined the vacation?

That's the Marines.

Piper needed to go home?

Change the flight.

Hawk wanted more time with her?

Wait.

Piper didn't like it.

More than that, she didn't like what seemed to be happening to him.

The Marines had once been part of Hawk's personality.

Now they seemed to be replacing it.

The funny guy was becoming sarcastic.

The considerate guy was becoming dismissive.

The confident guy was becoming entitled.

Hawk was slowly turning into a jerk jarhead.

Piper hated even thinking it.

Maybe that was unfair.

Maybe he was exhausted.

Maybe work had been particularly brutal.

Maybe military life required a kind of compartmentalization Piper didn't understand.

But she understood something else perfectly well.

If someone said a man was making her uncomfortable, the correct response wasn't to explain why she shouldn't be uncomfortable.

And if you invited someone thousands of miles to see you knowing you might not have time for them, the correct response wasn't to trap them there longer until your calendar improved.

That wasn't romance.

It was selfish.

Piper put the phone down.

For years, she'd imagined adulthood as a place she needed somebody else to get her into.

First Lindo.

Then, without quite admitting it to herself, maybe Hawk.

Someone with a car.

Someone with an apartment.

Someone who knew where he was going.

Someone who could show her the way.

But Piper wasn't stranded at a Stop 'N' Go anymore.

She had jobs.

Or at least interviews for jobs.

She had school.

She had a family slowly getting its footing.

She had money sometimes.

She had plans.

Messy plans.

Cheap plans.

Plans that occasionally involved a Geo held together by one disputed piece of tape.

But they were hers.

And maybe that was what Hawk didn't understand.

Piper's life might not look important from where he stood.

It was important to her.

Her classes mattered.

Her interviews mattered.

Helping Sofie mattered.

Being there for Dena mattered.

Her return ticket mattered.

Her time mattered.

Piper picked up her phone again.

She reread Hawk's message.

wish you were here

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.

She could tell him everything.

She could start the argument.

She could demand an apology.

Instead, she locked the screen.

Not forever.

Just tonight.

She didn't need to decide what Hawk meant to her before bed.

She didn't need to decide whether they were friends, almost-lovers, a summer fling that never quite happened, or two people who genuinely cared about each other but were slowly becoming incompatible adults.

For once, uncertainty didn't require immediate action.

Piper put the phone beside her.

School first.

Job next.

Family.

Herself.

Everything else could sort itself out later.

Hawk could too.

She mentally filed him under:

THINGS I DO NOT HAVE TO FIGURE OUT TONIGHT.

That felt much better than Things That Weren't Meant to Be.

Maybe Hawk would call tomorrow and actually listen.

Maybe he'd apologize.

Maybe the funny, decent man Piper remembered was still in there beneath the uniform, exhaustion and increasingly irritating jarhead attitude.

Maybe he wasn't.

Either way, Piper wasn't waiting in somebody else's room until he found time to become that person again.

She turned off the lamp.

For the first time all week, she slept.