The Definition of Narcissism

“You’re working on calling people?” She glances at the paper in my hand.

“Yeah. Just the orders that are ready,” Dammit. Do I need to look busier than this?  

“Ok, when you’re done, can you clean up aisle 41?” she turns, taking a couple strides out of the cove of the department.

“Sure,” I tell her back. “Oh, and …”

She turns. “Yes?”

“Just a heads-up, I’m going to be giving two week’s notice tonight. I’ll write up the letter later,” I can’t look her in the eyes. Instead, I focus on the paper in front of me, pretending I’m scanning it for my next call out. I’m trying to make my comment look like an aside, but I can feel myself come off as awkward. I pull up my eyes to look directly at her.

“Oh no. Why?” she tilts her head. She’s facing me squarely now.

It’s none of your business; I don’t owe you any explanation.

“Well, to be honest, my marriage is done and I have to actually support myself. I really can’t do that on minimum wage,” There. Now you have it.

“Ok,” she stretches out the ‘O’, and it sounds billowy and soft against the sharp ‘K’. I get an image of a balloon, floating softly and slowly toward a needle. “I’m so sorry,” she adds, coming toward me with out-stretched arms. I don’t want the embrace, nor do I need it.

I loosely pat her back, thank her and change the subject.

“So, clean up the aisle, then?”

“Yeah, if you could,” she turns to walk away again. “And when you’re done that, could you grab the wedding aisle, too? Thanks,” and she’s gone.

“Sure,” I mutter out, staring at the space where she use to be.