Hearts in Conflict

The shrill blare of my alarm yanked me awake but for a moment, I wasn’t in my cramped apartment. I was ten years old, kneeling on a sun-warmed beach, the salty breeze tugging at my hair. “Papa, Papa, come look!” I’d called, my voice bright with a child’s urgency, pointing at a tiny sand fish skittering across the sand. My father had rushed to me, his footsteps heavy in the sand, his face tight with worry at the sound of my voice. “What is it, mi amor?” he’d asked, crouching beside me, his flannel shirt smelling of home. I’d pointed at the sand fish, half-buried in a shallow pool. “It’s all alone, Papa. Look how tiny it is!” He’d sighed, relief softening. “Just a little sand fish, eh? Probably got lost from its colony.” “Oh no, Papa, that’s sad!” I cried. “Does it mean it’ll never see them again?” “Perhaps,” he said, his bluntness startling me. “Such is life.” But my gasp made him soften, his hand warm on my shoulder. “Hey, we can help it. If we guide it to the water, it’s got a better chance of finding its family. Want to try?” I nodded, tears stinging as we scooped the little creature into a bucket, carrying it to the tide’s edge. The waves whispered over our feet as it skittered into the foam, gone. I looked up, the sunset bleeding red and said, “Papa, I don’t ever want to be away from you,” my voice breaking. “There, there, mi amor,” he replied, kneeling to meet my eyes. “I’ll never leave you. That’s a promise.” His calloused hand cupped my cheek, and I believed him. But I would later find out that some promises can never be kept, no matter how much you try. In my father’s words, ‘’such is life’’. ************************************************************************************************ “s**t!” I snapped back to reality, my hair a tangled mess. The clock glowed 8:30 AM. How in heaven’s name had I slept this late? Dalton was going to kill me. I scrambled out of bed, yanking on the first blouse I found. Wrinkled, of course and shoved my legs into yesterday’s skirt. A quick glance at the mirror confirmed what I already knew: barely passable. My eyeliner was smudged and my hair refused to cooperate. I spat on my fingertip and dabbed at the liner only to smear it further. With a groan, I dragged a comb once through my hair in a hopeless attempt to tame the frizz, but I didn’t have time to care. Snatching my bag, I stuffed in my laptop and bolted for the door, nearly tripping over my shoes in the process. The city air hit me, thick with exhaust and coffee carts as I wove through the morning crowd, my flats slapping against the pavement. In that chaotic moment, I could almost hear Papa’s laugh, see his amused smile. He would’ve shaken his head and called me his “little whirlwind.” By the time I reached the office, my chest was tight and my legs ached, but I kept my head down, praying Dalton wouldn’t notice. Of course, luck was never on my side. “Amelia.” His voice sliced through the room, sharp and almost mocking. “So lucky of you to join us today.” I froze, forcing a nervous smile as every pair of eyes turned toward me. “I stayed up all night finishing the article, sir. I must’ve-” “I don’t like excuses,” he cut in, his tall frame towering over my desk. His eyes narrowed, flicking once at the wall clock. “And only you would think it’s enough.” Then just as quickly he turned away, leaving my cheeks burning. I sank into my chair, heart pounding. Another terrible start, but I’d finished the article. A small win, I told myself. I wonder why they still keep you around,” Julian’s grating voice cut in. He leaned back, eyes flicking over me with a smirk. “Late again and well looking like you crawled here straight out of bed. Very professional.” I shot him a glare, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reply. Instead, I opened my laptop, the faint whir of the machine grounding my nerves. Dalton’s words were still burning in my head but Julian’s were worse because unlike Dalton, he never stopped. You know, Julian added, leaning back into his chair, ‘’if I screwed up half as much as you do, I’d have been out of here months ago. Must be nice having that…charm of yours keeping you afloat.’’ His grin widened, oily and knowing. My fingers hovered over the keyboard pausing to think whether or not I should snap back to tell him charm had nothing to do with why I was still here, that grit and sleepless nights had. But I bit my tongue. Julian wasn’t still worth it. Not when I had bigger things to take care of. “If looks could kill, Julian’d be a corpse by now,” Thelma’s voice broke through. My best friend, my only ally in this office jungle, dropped into the chair beside me, popping a grape from her little snack container into her mouth then she turned to me. “Girl, your eyeliner’s smudged. Hold still.” Before I could protest, she tugged a tissue from her bag, licking the corner before dabbing gently under my eye. “There. Less zombie, more human.” She reached out and smoothed a stubborn strand of my hair, shaking her head with a smile. “You really need me as your personal stylist.” I laughed under my breath. Thelma always knew how to save me. But before I could say anything, Dalton’s head popped out of his office. “Amelia. A minute.” My stomach dropped. God forbid I get five seconds of peace. Thelma shot me a sympathetic and mouthed, good luck. I pushed back on my chair, my legs heavier than they had any right to be. Julian smirk shadowed me to the glass door. Dalton was waiting, arms folded. I swallowed hard. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just about being late. And for the first time that morning, a new thought flickered in my chest. Maybe today really would be the day I lost everything.