114- Crash world

She’s not moved. Instead, she rolls her eyes and continues, “Do you know what is wrong with your kind of demographic; the goody two-shoes, do everything proper type? You all still feel shame. And shame my dear is a buzzkill. You need to get rid of that shit and do what you fucking want.”
Her words resound inside me but at the same time, it feels so very wrong and almost foolish, so I scoff it off, and drain my cocktail. “How can you live life without feeling shame?”
“Well, that’s how I'm living right now and I’m having a blast. That’s why I didn’t slave away like the rest of you and incur thousands in debt, just to attend some fucking college. “
“No shame Jodie,” I respond. “You know I love you but, we need to talk about your hopping around. From jobs to places to people. Isn’t it exhausting?”
“It isn’t,” she replies. “For now. But when I eventually get tired of it, I would have gathered a lot of insight into just exactly what I want to do with my life. My point is that none of you can do this because you’re still afraid of being judged for being a loser… still afraid of feeling shame, so it stagnates you and keeps you in a box. I say embrace that crippling inner judgement and discomfort and soon that bitch will disappear. Then you can start truly living your life.”
“Really?” I ask dryly. “So how would you handle this situation if you were in my shoes, and missing your shame nerve or bone or whatever.
“I would walk into his office and fuck him. Then put my clothes back on and get back to work.”
I stare at her, dumbfounded. “Wow. I thought that coming here would console me, but now my headache just tripled in size. Thanks a lot Yoda.”
“Anytime,” she beams at me.
I push her face to the side as I rise to my feet and grab my purse.
“Hey! Where are you going?” She calls at my exit. “We’re not done. Blair!” I wave at her without even bothering to turn around, too weak to even speak.

It’s almost midnight when I return home and thankfully, I find that Lee Rang is asleep. After turning off the light in her room, I return to mine and reaffirm my decision to quit. It’s either this or my still very present ability to feel shame will kill me.
The next morning, I’m a little late to the office so I know he has already clocked in.
However, I do not go in for a quick greeting. I do however want to get this whole resignation thing sorted out so the moment I’m done with my letter, I knock on his door. Without waiting for a response that I am certain will not come, I go in and stand in front of the desk.
A moment later, he pulls his eyes away from his screen to regard me. “Do you need something?”
“No, I brought you something,” I reply, and lean forward to place the white envelope on his desk. From my handwriting on it, he can immediately read what it is. I don’t even bother looking at him and instead stare at the panoramic view of the city behind him. “It’s been such a privilege working here and I want to thank you for the opportunity, but I think that it’s best that I move on.”
I wait for a few seconds and when he doesn’t say a word, I meet his gaze and force a tight smile to my lips. Then I turn around to take my leave.
When I got to the door, he eventually spoke, “Is this because of yesterday?”
This question has so many layers and I don’t know which one to peel first so I decide to just leave it untouched. “No it isn’t,” I lie and continue on my way.
“So what’s the problem?” he calls to me.
I turn to face him. “It’s just some personal matters that I need to attend to.” “I wanted to fuck you yesterday,” he says.
My heart stops in my chest.
The door is still closed but it almost feels as though the entire building is listening. My instinct is to hurry away in order to quell the discomfort making my blood curl, but I find myself unable to move.
He continues, “I sent you home because I had reached my limit, and I knew that there was no way I would have gotten through the day without giving in and touching you.”
I’m stunned by his admission because my assumption all along was that he dismissed me because of the advance I made towards him.
As I am trying to process his response, he rises to his feet.

Once again, I want to retreat but my feet remain fixed to the ground as though I have been nailed to the spot.
He arrives at the front of his desk with his hands in the pockets of his slacks, and then takes a seat on the edge of the table. His gaze is locked on mine.
This time around, I refuse to look away. “You shouldn’t say that.”
“I wasn’t going to,” he replies. “But since you’re quitting, I might as well say exactly what I want to. Blair, I can’t stop thinking about our night, and trust me, I’ve tried.”
I feel the strength begin to seep out of my bones so with a rasp, I clear my throat and shift my weight from one leg to the other. “Well, I didn’t know that,” I say. “I just thought you didn’t want me here.”
“If I didn’t want you here, then I wouldn’t have hired you.”
“Well, you didn’t want me at first.”
“With good reason,” he replies. “For instance, look at the point we’ve arrived at.”
I immediately correct him, “We’re here because you don’t talk to me. Because I never know what you’re thinking or how…” I catch myself at the passionate outburst.
“Go on,” he says.
Still, I take a deep breath and try to stabilize my tone and emotions. “Mr. Abbott, thanks for the opportunity but I’m still convinced the best thing for the both of us is to part ways.”
“Alright by me,” he says.
I can’t help the sharp jab of pain in my chest at his words. I turn around to leave.
“But there is one thing…” he says. “Since we’re going to part ways anyway, how about one for the road?”
I return my gaze to his and see that he is not for even a second, joking. “Are you asking me to have sex with you?”
“Yes. That is exactly what I'm asking.”
I’m stunned and as a result, the first words that rush to my lips are to express my incredulity. Then, what Jodie said the previous day at the diner on the art of being shameless comes to mind.
Quitting this job is not an easy or desired decision by me and as I've come to also discover, neither is restraining myself from being physically attracted to him. She said that she’d come into his office to

fuck him and then return to work, so why couldn’t I do the same? The truly, most preferred answer that I can think of comes to mind, but I am too ashamed to spit it out.
“… shame my dear is a buzzkill. You need to get rid of that shit and do what you fucking want.”
My hands become restless by my sides, especially since I know he is watching me intently. “I will,” I reply. “I will have sex with you but I have my own conditions too.”
“State them,” he says.
I cannot believe what is about to come out of my mouth, “I will have sex with you, but I still want to work here.”