There was nothing to do but wait. The interview process was odd. Dylan checked his messages again, even though the phone had been silent since the morning. He had only a few thousand dollars in his savings account, and life in the city was more expensive than his highest estimates.
The only thing he could afford to do was breathe, and he wasn’t even doing that right. The anxiety kept kicking in. He should’ve gotten a response already. Even a rejection was better than the limbo between the interview and the response.
Dylan’s phone pinged, and he nearly dropped his cup of tea in surprise. Before he looked, he took a few breaths. It could be a message from his phone company, or his mom, or his old friends from college asking to catch up.
It felt like everyone else had made a place for themselves in the world. Some of them carved out cozy nooks. Little ranch houses, spring weddings, a couple of children. They took to suburbia like fish to water. Others aimed for a different path, cutting large chasms into the world because cozy was too stifling.
He didn’t fit into either category, or any category. He kept trying to make a dent on the surface of the world and failing. He worked job after job that led nowhere, floating around and surviving. He’d almost forgotten the things he’d learned in his degree.
Dylan murmured a prayer, although God didn’t have a good track record of answering his prayers. He unlocked the phone and opened the message. The first word was enough, and he could breathe.
Congratulations.
Dylan read the first word again. Then, he read through the entire message. He was definitely hired. It wasn’t a dream or a trick of his eyes. He was an employee of Astorex. The job came with a good salary and all the bells and whistles.
It called for a celebration, but he could do that after he got a paycheck. Dylan fell into his couch. When he was in college, celebrations involved food and alcohol. Now, he thought about more mundane things. He needed to buy groceries. The couch he was sitting on was at least fifth-hand. He’d probably need some new clothes.
He resisted the urge to tell anyone. For a while, the happiness belonged to just him. The second he spoke to someone else, it would be open to the world. It would be open to criticism. His mom was old-fashioned. She’d hear “personal assistant” and call it “secretary”. She might not say anything to his face, but she didn’t need to. His mom thought there were some jobs for men and others for women.
Some of his friends would envy him. Astorex was a good company to work for. Stable and growing, and offering good benefits to their workers. Some would say he was lucky, and more would say he wouldn’t last at the job or long. Dylan could see his friends saying such things, and realized he needed to find better friends. Most of the friends he had were of convenience. They were people he could get a beer with, and little more.
His real friends were in the middle of nowhere, back in his hometown that was known for cornfields and megachurches. They called sometimes, but it was hard to keep in touch with their busy lives and their families.
His phone rang, and Dylan looked at the caller ID. It was an unknown number. Dylan picked up after the second ring.
“Mr. Vaughn?”
“Yes?”
“This is Jennifer Shue from Astorex,” the woman on the line said. “I wanted to ask if it was possible for you to join work next week?”
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