“Um, good,” I responded. “I actually found something. It’s not permanent, but it’s a job. Nothing fancy, I mean, but it pays. I’m not flipping burgers, so that’s a plus because you know how clumsy I am, and the idea of me working with grease and fire—”

“You’re stalling,” she said, her voice completely flat as she cut through all the bullshit of my blathering.

“Yes, I am, but it’s only because I know you won’t be happy with what I have to tell you.”

She sighed again. “Cara, all I care about is that you’re happy, and if I sound disappointed, it’s because I know you’re selling yourself short. So, spill it. What horrible, awful job have you gotten yourself into?”

I looked up at the heavens, asking for a little help, as the last ray of sunshine disappeared before I descended into the subway station.

“I’m a temporary assistant to a seriously successful businessman here in the city.”

Silence.

“Well, that’s not as terrible as I envisioned.”

“Oh, stop. Yes, it is,” I answered, rolling my eyes. I once again checked the map to make sure the route in my head was indeed the correct way. I didn’t want to get lost on the subway because I was too busy chatting on the phone.

“I mean, you’re right. It’s not flipping burgers.”

“Stop,” I replied.

“Or driving a taxi. You’re a terrible driver,” she went on.

“I hate you.”

“Oh, wait! I have one more! Exotic dancing! Now that would be a horrible job for you!”

“Hey, I think I have pretty nice breasts, thank you very much,” I said a bit too loudly.

The guy standing next to me as we waited to board the train suddenly looked down at my chest, as if he were verifying my statement.

I was waiting for a thumbs-up or some sign of approval that he agreed, but unfortunately, he just moved ahead onto the train. I followed closely behind with the rest of the herd.

“I wasn’t referring to your boobs. Do you not remember last year when you decided it would be a great idea to go clubbing after midterms?”

“Hey, you said I looked hot!” I retorted.

“A hot mess! Your dance moves are like watching a bad ’80s movie. You can’t look away; it’s just too horrifying.”

“You’re just jealous.” I laughed as my hand wrapped around the slim stanchion pole mere seconds before the train took off. The force pushed me forward, and suddenly, I was wrapped around that damn pole, holding on for my dear life.

Melissa was rolling with laughter after I explained the ruckus of noise that had been heard on her end.

And, no, the irony was not lost on me either.