On Friday, Cary found herself tired. Compared to the last week with DCT, and even the week after that, it was calm and without any real strain. Some niggling thought suggested boredom, which Cary was quick to wave away, or at least the implications of. Boring was good. It meant nothing was wrong. And in a job like this, having nothing wrong was the only thing anyone could ever ask for.

"Knock knock~!" sung Iona's voice, as her face curled around the edge of Cary's cubicle so she could give a muffled drum against it. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice!"

"It's not really my call--I just had a free space," said Cary. "Next time, I'd suggest you give the office a call if it's urgent. Just to make sure I have an opening."

"You’re always so formal, Cary!” said Iona. “Don’t worry about me! Just consider me an old friend.”

"I don't think it would make much of a difference," said Cary, lifting both her palms in an exaggerated shrug. "This is me. Work Dream."

"Work Dream! Yaaaay! I love it!" said Iona, rapidly clapping with her wrists hooked together. "Who's your agent, Work Dream? I'd like to speak with them!"

"No," said Cary, narrowing her eyes. "So what can I do for you? Don't tell me you found a job, too."

"My job is Freelance Bringer of Sunshine!" said Iona, as Cary let out another groan. "And I'm just here to check up on things. Any news about Odila?"

"Absolutely nothing," said Cary. "She didn't show up for her appointment."

"That's no good..." Iona tapped her chin bright eyed concentration.. "Well, that's a great segue into my next question. Are you going to be watching the interview on Saturday?"

“I...huh. I guess I didn’t think about it,” said Cary. “Probably not.”

“Wait, really?” Iona asked. “But don’t you want to see what your client has to say? Don’t you want to see her succeed?”

"This has nothing to do with whether or not she wants a job," scoffed Cary. "Trust me."

"But aren't you worried?" Iona asked, in a voice that was already assuring Cary that she wasn't alone if she did. Cary, despite herself, said nothing. Her instinct was to say 'of course not', but something caught. It caught just like when Iona handed her an earbud and introduced her to a lost past. And now, she had ushered it in again.

"I don't know," Cary said at last. “Do you think I should be?”

"I don't! Sad to say," said Iona, giggling as if at her own joke. "Don't worry no matter what! I'll be watching over Odila. As much as I can, anyway. She's not the type that likes to be babied."

"You don't say," Cary said dryly, as Iona slid her her pink-trimmed bag down from her shoulder and plucked a sheet of paper from its depths. She slid onto the table, summoning a pen from her bag with equal ease and scribbling a few quick lines in clean, round script.

“And this!” she said, holding the paper out to Cary. “Is a present for you! Whenever you’re troubled, or if you change your mind, just give me a call. I’ll even give you a backstage pass to watch Odila with us!”

“I don’t need you to go that far,” said Cary. She picked the paper out of Iona’s hands, then folded it neatly to place into her pocket. “It’s weird enough to get the phone number of two pop stars in the same month.”

“Aw, I’m not the first? How sad,” said Iona with a small pout. “But that goes to show that even idols need to seize the day! Carpe Diem!”

Cary felt a little piece of her soul twitch. She felt as if she was living the juvenile harem fantasy of every fifteen-year-old nerd, her own inner fifteen-year-old nerd included. While darkly amusing, it was no less annoying. The world is not kind. And having the adulthood version of a dark show constantly ramming into it only served to remind her of it.

“I’m serious though!” said Iona, as if she could read her thoughts. “If you’re worried about any of us, call me, okay?”

“Okay,” Cary said. “I will.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“You’ll do it if you have the slightest ripple of a little trouble?” Iona asked. Cary blinked heavily, wondering if she was joking, but Iona’s gaze held fast.

“Yeah,” Cary said. “I will.”

---

On Saturday, Cary was not thinking about Odila. She was thinking about things swirling around an Odila-shaped hole, like “Long Lost Last Chance” and her conversation with Dusty, but in the end, her thoughts brought her back to Cary herself.

For some reason, as she sat on the couch of her apartment, reading the same page of her book for the fourth time, she thought about life after she lost her father. Remembering being just old enough to notice meals of the same size, but of a thinner variety of cheese, bread, peanut butter and jelly. Remembering catching mother her crying in the middle of the night, half over Papa, half over failing a driving exam, and the ugly horror of grieving both in equal measure.

Grief is not an evil thing. But there is no more vile a feeling than needing to heal, and choosing to live, and feeling the weight of the one you love so terribly much seem pathetic under the weight of selfish survival.

And that, Cary thought, coming back to the present, was why she couldn’t get behind these pop stars trying to get “real” jobs. But whenever she got close to thinking “there’s no way they could know what that feels like,” she found herself staring at her cell phone where Iona’s number still lingered on the screen. About an hour ago, she couldn’t believe she was so bored that she programmed it into her phone. Now, she couldn’t believe she was so bored that she typed out a text.

Hi Iona, it’s Cary. Hope everything’s going well with the interview. As much as she’d want it, give Odila my best.

Cary was almost embarrassed by how stiff she sounded in her own text. She didn’t have time to put down her phone before it buzzed with a flurry of responses.

Cary!!! I’m so happy to hear from you!!!

You couldn’t have come at a better time. I was doing loopdeeloops with how nervous I was, hahahahahahah!

Nervous? You? Cary couldn’t help but wonder as she typed out her response.

I still have no idea what’s going on with Odila

We’re on at 2, so I had time to talk with her, right? I was asking her what’s on her mind, if she’s excited about the job, stuff like that

And she could barely keep awake!!! She was up all night for this!!!

Huh. Cary thought. These girls are buckets of surprises.

So she’s actually taking this seriously?

I don’t know! That’s the thing! I tried to ask her more details about her plans, and she just laughed and said ‘you’ll see’

I’m really worried. What’s eating her? Why is she doing this? I still have no clue

I know it’s stressful, but try not to worry about it too much. I have a feeling that Odila is doing this for a reason she doesn’t want either of us to know, at least not yet.

In truth, Cary thought it was pointless to worry about Odila’s idiotic ploy. But she checked herself--after all, it was Odila's livelihood and others at stake.

Maybe you should talk to Dusty? At the very least, she seems just as worried, with what I’ve seen. She’d probably have more insight.

I already tried. Dusty doesn’t know anything either. She’s worse than me!!!! T_____T

We’re in trouble, Work Dream!!! Save us!!!

Cary should have been annoyed. In some small, surface part of her brain, she was annoyed, if only on principle. But she suddenly found herself typing on the pad in her undying (and at times deeply inconvenient) instinct to never leave anyone’s plea for help unanswered.

It’s not like I don’t want to help her. I’ve wanted to talk some sense into her since her first appointment. I could actually give her some decent advice if she’d talk to me.

But if she’s dead set on keeping this under her hat, what are we supposed to do?

Cary was legitimately surprised that she not only answered so quickly, but she went off about frank work advice. She couldn’t help but wonder how laughably dull her life must be she has to be if this is what counted as her loosening up.

Cary? Sorry for being a big Nosy Posey. Are you worried, too?

Cary stared at the text, and felt her stomach flip. Her internal voice scolded her, dammit, dammit, I promised.

I don’t know. Maybe? A little?

There was a beat of silence from her phone, long enough to make Cary anxious. Did I do something wrong, she thought? Was I too vague? A buzz quickly called back in assurance, giving just enough time for her to think, “Ah, nevermind, I’ve gone and done it now.”

Don’t worry, Cary-dear! Beauty Dream is on her way! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧