Don't Love Me

Brunch with Annabelle

I'm not sure what to say to Mrs. Losange because I don't want to offend her, but I have a day job, so I say, "I'm sure we can find an interpreter to help you throughout the week. I can't exactly take a week away from work right now. I don't have enough vacation days accrued."

"You North Americans and your pathetic vacation days. What's the point of living if you only have 10 vacation days a year? Don't worry, I'll have my husband arrange it. You'll stay with me for the week and still get paid. My husband never says no when I put up a fuss."

I let it go for now. I'm sure Mr. Losange and Mr. Conti can figure it out. I catch sight of Jessica sending me death stares and decide it's time to get out of here. "Should we go to your scheduled brunch, then to the MET?"

"Yes. After you," she says excitedly. Her energy is infectious and suddenly the idea of a day of exploring the sights sounds amazing.

In the elevator, she turns to me abruptly and says, "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Annabelle."

I shake her offered hand and say, "I'm Alexa, or Lex. Whichever you prefer."

Names exchanged, she then continues on to interrogating me about every aspect of my life. I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to ask in return, but she seems to sense that and offers information freely without me needing to ask.

By the time we reach the restaurant for brunch, she knows I have 3 sisters and 1 brother and that I'm in the middle. She knows I like to read and played chess competitively growing up. She also knows I wasn't a fan of the game. She knows my birthday, my favourite colour and so many other trivial details.

We sit down and I'm exhausted. I get a short break while we peruse the menu and order. As soon as the waiter leaves, she says, "So, I'm here for a week and if this deal goes through, then I'll be here very often, so I'm determined to make you my friend. I know this sounds crazy, but Americans aren't to my taste, so please just agree. And, I warn you, if you don't agree, then I'll just have to spend the rest of the week convincing you."

I laugh, unable to hold on to my professionalism. "Why aren't you in the conference room negotiating? I doubt it would take a whole week then."

She waves her hand dismissively, "I like to keep my husband occupied, otherwise he's like a puppy, always following me around."

I smile and relax a little, trying to get in the spirit of things. We chat for a while when Annabelle asks, "So what happened with the interpreter? If it was you, I won't judge, but I'm curious how all my clothes were perfectly arranged and a welcome gift thoughtfully chosen, yet such an easy detail was missed."

"Will you promise not to tell Mr. Conti or your husband?" I ask, not wanting Jessica to think I'm using this time to badmouth her.

"Ooo, our first secret. Please tell me!" she says, enthusiastically grabbing my hand in hers, on the edge of her seat.

"It was Jessica," I say in defeat. "Please don't let it affect anything. The whole team worked tirelessly for your visit and the only thing Jessica did was plan parts of your itinerary. Don't worry, I'll double-check all your appointments that she made."

"Don't worry, this little mess up led to us eating brunch together so all is forgiven," she says kindly.

My coffee and her espresso arrive, and she looks at my coffee with aversion. "What is with Americans and their massive watered-down espressos?"

"I don't know about Americans, but us Canadians love our watered-down coffee," I say, then joke, "How else would you expect us to work all year with only 10 vacation days if not heavily caffeinated."

She laughs and says, "You are absolutely adorable."

I don't know what to say to that, so I take a sip of my coffee.

"So what is Jessica like?" she asks, looking for gossip.

"Well, I don't talk to her more than is absolutely necessary for the job, but I'm pretty sure her main goal all day is to marry Mr. Conti. Rumour is she got the job through a family connection and not on merit and, so far, I would believe that. You don't become an executive assistant without a certain amount of experience and even then only the most efficient assistants rise to the executive level."

"I assume you're the first assistant then."

"No," I respond, drawing a surprised reaction from Annabelle. Before she can ask, I explain, "She started working there first and I've only been there for about a month. Mr. Conti actually saved me from a terrible work situation, so he probably didn't even need a second assistant."

"What was the bad work situation?" She asks, fully engulfed in the drama now. It seems Mrs. Losange loved to gossip.

"My last boss was handsy. The first assistant was male and did everything he could to be a buffer between me and our creepy boss but he was away from the desk for two minutes and Mr. Conti, who was there for a meeting, caught him trying to force himself on me." When I say it out loud, I realize I was more traumatized than I thought. I was really scared at that moment and I never really dealt with it. I would have to talk to Tony about it at some point.

Annabelle reaches over and gives my forearm a comforting squeeze and says, "Men are pigs and no one should have to experience that. I'm glad that you have Mr. Conti looking out for you and I'm glad he stole you away, otherwise we never would have met.

The waiter comes and sets out food in front of us and we both enjoy the most amazing breakfast. We stay long after we finish chatting and getting to know each other and by the time we leave to visit the MET I'm feeling relaxed and like it's possible for us to be friends, despite the weird power imbalance. Time will tell.