The Switch

   Walking out of Fresh Ink, the most recent graphic design company in Chicago I'm interning for, I glance up at the night sky. When I squint I can sort-of see the stars. Nothing like back home in Indiana though. I sigh, reminiscing on the past. There, I could walk out into my backyard, lay on the grass, and name my favorite constellations with my best friend, Calla. But here, you can hardly see the moon. And even when you think you can see the stars, you’re probably just looking at the lights of skyscrapers. I think back on my most recent internship at Fresh Ink. So far, I’m doing the same stuff as I was at my last two internships. Go pick me up some coffee, Anna. Oh, Anna, can you do me a favor and get some computer paper? I completely forgot to grab some. And my absolute favorite: Anna? Can you go grab me a bite to eat? I’m really crunched on time. Everyone I work for has “no time” to do the easy stuff but refuse to fork over some of the work. How am I supposed to learn how to design a logo to someone’s specifications by doing errands? Or to communicate with potential clients by dropping off mail at the post office? It’s the same, monotonous, boring stuff day in and day out. I wish I could just-

“Woah,” I cry, dropping my satchel and tipping backwards.

The man I just ran into grabs my arm, steadying me as he continues talking on the phone.

“Alright, I’ll have to call you back. Yes, give me ten minutes."

He hangs up, shoving his phone into his pocket and smiling apologetically at me. At least, I think he is. I can only see his profile.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. Too busy trying to find the stars I guess,” I apologize, cheeks flaming as I take a step back while bending to pick up my bag.

“It’s no problem. I actually needed an excuse to hang up on my boss. Sometimes work just won’t leave you alone,” He replies, smiling and grabbing his briefcase from next to his feet.

I nod in agreement, stepping aside before continuing on my way to my flat. Recently I’ve been feeling really down about myself. I insisted on moving to Chicago because of all the great opportunities there are supposed to be. I remember how I felt so confident in my skills back home, before I was put to the test. But now, I feel like a big old wad of disappointment and defeat. For not living up to the expectations I had set for myself. For not being good enough for my boss to use my expertise. For not being given the chance to even be “put to the test”. I shake my head, ridding myself of these bad thoughts. No reason to spiral down that train of thought.

After walking up the three flights of stairs to my apartment I reach into the front pocket of my computer bag for my keys. I frown, searching the main pocket. Rats! I must’ve left them on my desk at work. I exhale, looking around before stretching to grab the spare key off of the door frame. I unlock the door, walking inside. I flick the lights on, flipping my shoes off and throwing my briefcase on the kitchen counter. I open the fridge and pull out some lunch meat, turning to make a sandwich. I stop cold, staring at my bag. Or at least, what’s supposed to be my bag. Sitting in its place is a sleek, black leather briefcase with gold furnishings. The only thing similar between this expensive briefcase and my old brown one is the zipper pocket on the front. I walk towards it, hefting myself onto a barstool. What now? Should I open it? Try to find some form of identification? I groan, dropping my head into my hands. But isn’t it an invasion of his privacy? Maybe I should just wait till he gets ahold of me first… But what if he doesn’t? What if this was like his backup computer bag? Or maybe he wouldn’t think it’s worth the effort to try to contact me. I feel a headache coming on and stand, moving to put the lunch meat away. All this inner arguing is tiring me out. I decide to sleep on it and make up my mind tomorrow. That way, I’m giving him time to make the first move. As soon as I change into my pjs and lie down I begin to drift off.

~~~~~

After fixing myself a big breakfast, I sit down at my bar and stare at the briefcase. Come on Anna, you can do this. All you’re gonna do is glance in his computer bag and hopefully find a way to contact him. I debate for a minute which pocket to open before reaching for the front one. Who would keep anything important or incriminating in a front pocket? Besides, I already technically went through it when I was looking for my keys. I shove a piece of bacon in my mouth, hurrying to open the zipper before I second guess myself. I rifle through it, moving past a computer charger, a few lead and charcoal pencils, and some mints. Finally, I find a wallet, pulling it out. I open it to find his driver's license. I scan it, reading the listed facts. Name- William Carson, Age- 25, Eye Color- Hazel, Hair Color- Light Brown. I look through the rest of the wallet, hoping for a phone number or email address. I search, landing on a pink business card for a salon owned by a Jessica Carson. I reach for my phone, dialing the number before I lose my nerve.

“This is Sally from Jess’s Beauty Spa, how may I help you?”

“Hi, I was wondering if a Jessica Carson worked there?”

“Do you mean Jessica Martin?”

“Um… Maybe? I’m not really sure. I just have this business card-”

“No worries. Let me go ask.”

“Okay thank you,” I respond.

“No problem.”

I wait a few minutes, pushing my eggs around on my plate as I wait for her to return.

“Hi, this is Jessica speaking, how may I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Anna. I was wondering if you knew where I could find a William Carson?”

“What for?” she asks suspiciously.

“It’s a long story but I bumped into this guy and happened to switch computer bags with him. In his wallet I found this business card for a Jessica Carson I was hoping you could give me his number? I’d really appreciate it.”

“Oh! I haven’t talked to him in ages. Not since the divorce, I believe. I can give you the number I have for him, but he might have changed it since I last talked to him.”

“Anything you have would be much appreciated,” I answer, reaching for a pen.

“Okay. It’s 505 608 2271.”

“Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome hun, have a nice day.”

“You too.”

   After hanging up I decide to go grab a cup of coffee before calling the second stranger of the day. I scarf down the rest of my food, grab the briefcase, and take a handful of my savings. There’s another reason for getting in touch, he has your wallet too. I facepalm myself, feeling ridiculous for forgetting what he has of mine. At least the coffee shop is within walking distance, I think wistfully, realizing I can’t drive till I track him down. I head out, walking a couple of blocks to the nearest Starbucks. I enter and buy a frappuccino, thanking the server before walking over to my own little table. I take a sip and sigh, feeling the tension seep out of my body. Why don’t I call him here? It’s relatively quiet and empty. I look around, seeing a few others talking on their phones. I reach for mine, typing in the number written on my arm and pressing the call button. The phone doesn’t go straight to the dial tone, so I wait, glancing around. There’s a couple to my left chatting, a man glancing at his phone in front of me, and a woman on her computer to my right. I stop, backtracking to the man. Now that I’m focussed on him I can hear his phone ringing.

   “Hello?” A gruff voice answers.

   “Hi is this William Carson?” I ask suspiciously, still staring at the guy across the cafe.

   “Yes?”

   I stand, walking slowly towards the guy sitting in front of me.

   “You wouldn’t happen to be sitting at a Starbucks would you?” I ask.

   I’m now within hearing distance of him as he answers.

   “Yeah? Who is this?”

   I hang up, walking over.

At his confusion I introduce myself, “Hi, I’m Anna. The girl you bumped into last night? We switched satchels by accident and I called to figure out a place we could meet to switch back, but then I saw you over here so I just came over. Sorry it took so long, I’m a terrible procrastinator so I couldn’t decide between calling you and waiting for you to call me. And I didn’t know if you’d want me to go looking through your stuff? Anyways, I think I got your number through your ex wife? Not positive though. She could be an ex sister in law for all I know…” I shake my head, continuing, “And there was a business card in your wallet for a Jessica Carson. Also, now that I think about it, there might be some grease stains on it because I was eating bacon when I decided to look through your stuff... Really sorry about that. As you can probably tell I’m not that great at talking to strangers,” I ramble, handing him his bag.

“Thank you. I’m William by the way, but you can call me Will. And you were correct on your first assumption. She’s my ex wife,” He says, gesturing for me to take a seat.

I sit, remembering, “Oh! I totally forgot to apologize for running into you last night. I mean, I apologized last night, but now it’s kinda a bigger deal-” I stop, staring at the table where my portfolio of designs that I’ve done over the years are layed out.

“Wow, you certainly had no qualms about going through my stuff,” I joke, laughing.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, gathering the papers up, “I guess I kind of forgot that I was looking for some contact information. You see, I work for Top Quality Visuals and I couldn’t help looking at the work of another fellow graphic designer.”

“Okay,” I squeak, blushing.

After he collects the art he gently slides them back into my computer bag. He zips it up, then passes it to me. I nod in thanks and stand to leave.

“Wait! Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

“Um…” My eyes fall to the cup in my hands.

“Shoot, well what about a muffin?”

“Uh, sure,” I respond, sitting back down.

“Great, I’ll be right back,” He says, jogging over to the counter.

I can not believe what just happened. I ran into a stranger, switched bags, then saw him at Starbucks. To top it off, he works for the best graphic design company in the vicinity! One I have even dreamed of working for over the years. What are the odds? I take a sip of my coffee, a cold thought entering my mind. What if he thinks my designs are terrible? Before I can continue down that rabbit hole though, Will sits back down, passing me a chocolate chip muffin.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. It’s the least I could do.”

When I stare at him in confusion, he elaborates, “My boss has recently taken on a few too many projects and wanted the rest of us to keep an eye out for anyone we could hire. Plus, if we do refer someone, we get a bonus.”

I stare at him in shock.

He winces, “Wait, let me start over. Are you looking for a job? Er, where do you work?”

“I’m an intern at Fresh Ink,” I respond, feeling detached from the situation.

“Okay, well if you want, I could set up an interview with my boss. You don’t have to though, Fresh Ink is a good establishment that-”

“No, no, no! I mean, I would love an interview! It’s just, I don’t have any experience.”

“That’s fine. As far as I’m concerned you’ve got plenty,” he responds, waving towards my portfolio.

“But that’s just stuff I made up randomly. Without any requirements or discussing with clients-”

“So you don’t want the position?” He asks in confusion.

“No, I do. It’s just that I wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting into.”

“Trust me, adapting to what other people ask for comes naturally. And you’ve got some real talent I’d hate to pass up.”

“Oh, um thank you,” I answer, feeling my face redden.

“No, thank you.”

We sit in awkward silence for a few moments before I blurt out, “Man, I couldn’t have chosen a better person to run into, could I?”

He laughs.

“I guess I was too busy trying to see the stars to pay attention to where I was going. Back in Indiana my bedroom overlooked our back porch. So I’d climb out and stare at the stars for hours.”

“Have you looked at the stars on a boat before?”

“No! Have you?”

“Yeah, I own a small boat that I take out on Lake Michigan from time to time. Usually at night. Then you get to see Chicago lit up and the stars if you go out far enough.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“It is. Maybe you should join me sometime.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be. I’m actually trying to ask you out,” He admits, dropping eye contact to shove his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, um. That would be great.”

“Cool. I’d ask for your number but it seems I already have it,” he jokes.

I laugh, “Well I better get going. I still need to pick up some groceries.”

“Alright. I’ll walk you out,” He responds, standing and walking towards the door, “I should probably get going too.”

Following, I thank him for the muffin.

“Wait,” I say, grabbing his arm.

I check to make sure he and I have the right computer bags.

“Okay, you can leave now. I didn’t want to make the same mistake twice,” I joke.

He smiles before walking off in the opposite direction.

~~~~~

Will ended up texting me later that night, asking if I was free Saturday night. I agreed, of course, and immediately called my best friend Calla to tell her the news. She was ecstatic, wishing she could be there with me to celebrate. As I put on the finishing touches of my makeup for the night I hear a text come through.

Will: Sorry, running late. Can I meet you at the doc?

Me: Of course! See you there.

I debate taking my car but decide on walking. It’s only a few blocks away and I really hate trying to find a parking spot in Chicago, even at this late hour it’s bound to be packed. I walk out of my apartment building, looking up at the not-really-there stars. It’s amazing how just a week ago I was looking up at these stars, feeling like nothing was going my way. But now there’s a potential dream job and boyfriend on the horizon. Now, I feel rejuvenated, like I could carry the world on my shoulders while dancing with the stars. All because of a simple switch of computer bags.