Sorry, Something Came U!

Michelle Allen 2859 words 5821 Marlboro Pike, Apt. 103

Forestville, MD 20747

itwinpro2@gmail.com

240-535-4222

Sorry, Something Came Up…

by Michelle Allen

Jenna Baxter, a 26-year-old staff accountant by trade, had

extraordinary talent. Not for her exceptional math and accounting

skills, her work was accurate, and she followed all the rules, but it

wasn’t anything she’d get praise for.

She wasn’t a talented singer or artist, nor did she possess any

athletic skills. Jenna's true gift was making excuses. Lots of them.

Whenever it was convenient for her.

Jenna was known as the "Queen of Excuses". If making excuses

was a sport, she’d have a shelf full of Olympic gold medals.

When it came to abrupt illness, ghosting big opportunities she

claimed to seek, canceling events with friends and family, or just

blowing things off, she was the expert in creating so-called

legitimate reasons why she wasn’t able to keep her commitments.

Despite owning an abundant wardrobe of the latest and most

trendy clothing and accessories, Jenna’s appearance was

consistently a bit unkempt. Her clothes, wrinkle – free? Not often.

Her outfits had character, chic and crumpled. Only on special

occasions or when she had a meeting at work did she walk

through a door dressed in intention.

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Though her long black wavy hair hung in the middle of her

back, she consistently wore it in a sloppy bun that looked like an

avalanche of hair held together by sheer hope and one

overworked hair tie.

Jenna rarely wore makeup, most days opting for the ‘I woke up

like this’ look.

Her habitual excuses led to declining relationships with her

friends and family. The invites were becoming few and far in

between.

Jenna’s life was stuck in a never-ending cycle of start and stop

due to any given outlandish reason. Unfinished projects were

stacked up like awards for “almost” successes and her to- do list

was gradually turning into a novel. No worries though, she

thought, when the timing was finally perfect, everything would

fall into place. Timing is crucial.

As the youngest of five in a household that always felt like it was

on the verge of unraveling at any moment, whether from her

parents' endless blame games over unpaid bills and forgotten

appointments, or the near-daily sibling squabbles over bathroom

time and the last Pop-Tart, Jenna quickly learned that making

excuses provide an escape from anything she didn’t want to face.

Jenna would fake illness in school. Going as far as to pretend to

have a nosebleed to avoid a test that she hadn’t studied for.

At home, she frequently faked confusion about whose day it was

to do a particular chore, created distractions - a sudden,

overenthusiastic attempt to rearrange the junk drawer or

dramatically tell a story about the horrible day she had at school.

The excuses didn’t always work. Jenna’s parents didn’t care who

was responsible for not doing what they were told to do or why

things were out of place; at least three of the five

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children were going to face the consequences. The punishment

came swift and loud—usually a week’s grounding or double

chores piled on like bricks.

Jenna’s excuse-making pattern continued throughout her

school career and followed her into the workforce, leading her to

almost being terminated after three years with a prestigious

accounting firm.

It was auditing season, and Jenna had several critical

deliverables on her plate that were essential to ensuring a

smooth and timely review.

As usual, she procrastinated, falling behind schedule and

leaving the reports incomplete. The senior accountant stepped in

and spoke with the CFO, begging him not to let her go. Loss of

income hurts everyone. He was mostly concerned about the

extra workload if she was gone.

A very temporary extension was granted; just until the end of the

week -to get the reconciliations finalized.

For the next three months, Jenna found herself sentenced to a

quiet kind of corporate purgatory: double the workload, lunch

breaks trimmed down to something barely longer than a sneeze,

and every leave request stamped with a firm, silent “Absolutely

not.” She didn’t like it, but she didn’t utter a single complaint.

After all, what leg did she have to stand on?

The senior accountant had, quite literally, salvaged her from a

one-way ticket to Unemploymentville. As far as Jenna was

concerned, for now, she was lucky to be overworked, underfed,

and still on the payroll.

Jenna’s work ethic began to improve. She met all her deadlines

and even helped her colleagues when necessary. It appeared that

Jenna was turning over a new leaf. That didn’t last long. She

gradually went back to old habits as soon as things at work were

back to normal.

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A month later, she was in hot water again, not missing another

deadline, but having too many absences.

Jenna was fired!

She was a whirlwind of emotion. So many swirling at once, it

was impossible to land on just one.

She was doing a good job. Didn’t miss any more deadlines, in

fact, she was completing time sensitive work before it was due.

Her vacation balance was solid, so why the fuss over her taking

just one day off each week? She had no choice. It was the only

way that she was going to finish writing her book. The weekly

meetups were non – negotiable and crucial to her creative

process.

One bestselling novel had the power to change everything. And

she wasn’t about to let that chance slip away.

She loved her job, but it wasn’t her dream job, her passion, what

she thought about when things were silent and calm.

Her legacy would be a collection of best-selling books, dancers

who commanded celebrity stages, and contributions to causes

she cared about.

Jenna had made up her mind that the senior accountant, along

with her bosom buddy, ‘The Spreadsheet Whisperer,’ another staff

account, led the charge in getting her fired.

She had frequently observed their reactions, the raised

eyebrows, smirks, and eye rolls when she informed them that she

would not be in the office. It was them. She knew it.

Unemployed, patiently waiting for her benefits to start rolling

in, Jenna’s savings account was starting to dry up. She’d been

making withdrawals to pay for gas, groceries, and everything

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else that she needed. Occasionally she’d grab a coffee or take

out just to escape the reminder that she had to spend on a

necessity basis only for a while. The way things were going, the

delay in receiving her unemployment benefits, she had a strong

suspicion that she’d need money from her savings account to pay

her rent the following month.

Jenna took on various side hustles, not out of ambition, but

because her bank account was about to be drier than the Sahara

Dessert.

She delivered groceries, Amazon packages, offered pet care

services; until she grew tired of poop scooping, litter box

cleaning, and 6 a.m. walks in the rain, and she worked as a

freelance bookkeeper. None of those jobs lasted long; just

something to keep her bank account afloat until the universe led

her to something greater.

One afternoon, while half-heartedly looking for jobs but mostly

falling down a social media rabbit hole at her usual coffee shop,

Jenna glanced up from her phone just in time to see her best

friend, Bianca, who had refused to talk to her for a reason that

was unclear to her, standing at the counter, looking like she had

her life together… on purpose.

Bianca stood six feet tall with legs that went on for days. She

could have easily been a model, but she chose a different path.

Law. Bianca Waters, J.D., Summa Cum Laude, featured in a well-

read magazine as a young promising female attorney.

Bianca stood in line, wearing a navy blue tailored and powerful

skirt suit. Corporate chic!

Her hair, an immaculate tapered cut, full of golden-brown curls

contrasted beautifully with her warm tan face. This was a bold

style for her, but Bianca looked gorgeous as always.

Once upon a time, Jenna and Bianca were inseparable. They

were sandbox friends, college besties, and co-creators of that

one YouTube channel that almost took off before Jenna

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ghosted Bianca during the editing phase because Mercury was

in retrograde and “it just didn’t feel right.”

The channel took six months to create, and Bianca spent a

significant amount of her money; her savings, to finance that

failed endeavor. That’s when she stopped speaking to Jenna. That

was the last straw. That was two years ago.

After continuous urging from her fiancé, Bianca finally relented

and mailed Jenna an invitation to their wedding. She didn’t really

expect her to show up. Jenna would give her an excuse like she

always did. It would be a few days before or even the same day,

but something would come up and she’d be a no show. Why even

waste money on food for her, she argued.

As Bianca expected, Jenna called her a few days before the

wedding. She’d eaten some questionable shrimp that she’d had in

the fridge for a week and became deathly ill with food poisoning.

Doctors’ orders were to rest and take an antihistamine.

Bianca deleted Jenna’s phone number from her contacts list and

blocked her on social media and in her email accounts. She swore

that she was through with Jenna.

It felt like a cruel twist of fate that her return to her hometown

on business would lead her straight into Jenna. The moment she

stepped through the door of the coffee shop, her eyes landed on

her, seated quietly in the corner, head down, phone in hand.

Bianca sat at a little table tucked behind a column, blocking her

from anyone’s view, or so she thought. Jenna, with laptop in hand,

and a wide smile plastered across her face, walked over to

Bianca’s table.

“Hi Bianca, first let me apologize…

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“I just don’t understand why you stopped talking to me. What

did I do wrong? To hurt you? To upset you?

“Jenna, I don’t have time for this,” today, or ever.

“Time for what,” Jenna asked, with a puzzled look on her face.

I swear, you are still clueless.” Same old Jenna. The victim

huh?

Honey, ask your other friends or family why we haven’t spoken,

they can give you a clue.

“Jenna, I’m sure you’re a great person and you do your best,” but

I’d like to keep our communication as it is, nonexistent.

Hopefully, we won’t have any other awkward moments like this. I

think I’ll bypass this coffee shop if I ever have to come back to

this town.

“Bianca Waters!” you are my best friend, and I miss you terribly.

My life just hasn’t been the same without you in it.

Can we just chat, take things slow and rebuild our friendship? I

love you like a sister, Bee.

I apologize for whatever I did to upset you.

“Jenna, you just don’t get it, do you”? You still take no

responsibility for anything you have done.

“I’d love to, if you tell me what I did.”

“Never mind.” You wouldn’t get it even if I told you.

Jenna wasn’t gonna walk away without a fight, so Bianca

reluctantly invited over to her table.

“Let’s chat.” Get this over. And move on with our lives.

Separately.

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Jenna started sharing with Bianca the most recent developments

in her life, losing her job, the side gigs, and chance to pursue her

lifelong desire.

She’d received a letter from a dance studio that she doesn’t

recall visiting, and if she contacted them, it was so long ago that

she’d clearly forgotten about it. The letter informed her that she

had been selected to teach a group of teenage girls a hip - hop

dance routine from the Urban Choreography genre. The stakes

were high. The girls were competing against many skilled dance

troupes in the tri-state area. This was going to be big. The

universe was finally aligning her with one of her true callings.

Bianca looked at Jenna in total disbelief. Was she so aloof that

she’d forgotten that they had auditioned at the studio together,

four years ago, when they were both in between jobs.

Jenna seemed so excited. Bianca didn’t have the heart to tell her

that she’d also received a letter from that same studio, informing

her of the same thing. This wasn’t going to be a solo gig. The

universe wasn’t aligning her with anything. The studio just needed

outstanding dancers, who could teach the girls the dance

routines that would position them to win the competition.

“So did you call them back?”

"I had been meaning to call them, but you know I've been so

busy looking for a permanent job and taking a few side gigs when

I can to help keep me afloat.”

“I promise you, like I promised my sister Kerry,” I’m going to call

them tomorrow. Before I do any work. This will be the fresh start

that I need. Who knows where it will lead. Doing what you love

and getting paid for it.

Who can ask for more?

I always told you that universal alignment is critical to success.

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“Well, when the time is right, you’ll make a move.”

Bianca looked down at her phone.

Jenna, I have to go. I’ve only got half an hour to get to my meeting.

“I knew I should’ve just taken my coffee to go,” she murmured.

A few weeks had passed since Jenna had talked to Bianca. She

was getting ready to take her parents to the airport, waiting

patiently as her mother made a third round of checks, making

sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. While sitting on the edge of

the sofa, she opened the Instagram app and saw a photo of

Bianca, holding up a trophy with both hands. She was surrounded

by a group of girls, whose smiles revealed a sea of teeth. The

caption read "Urban hip - hop dance with flavor” - We didn’t

come to play—we came to SLAY.

The girls all wore jackets with Street Soul dance studio

embroidered on the sleeve. These were Jenna’s girls – her

students. She blew it. The story of her life.

She choked on her guilt.

“Boarding group A, 1 – 30.”

Jenna and her parents met in a group hug. They continually waved

goodbye until they could no longer see each other.

On the way back to her car, Jenna opened Instagram again.

She stared at her phone in disbelief and let out a piercing scream.

“She stole my opportunity.,” I knew I never should have told her.

She was never a true friend anyway. Just waiting until she saw me

again, so she should get revenge for me not showing up to her

wedding. Pretending like she didn’t want to talk to me. Little

sneak probably went straight to the studio and begged for an

audition; just so she could dash my dreams.

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Jenna’s voice blared through the speakerphone, loud and

unrestrained.

"Bianca is a snake, and I will never speak to her again."

“Calm down sis,” what happened.

“I looked on Instagram today and guess who I see, smiling ear to

ear like someone who just won the lottery.”

Jenna went on to tell Kerry, her oldest sister, that the dance

studio contacted her and wanted her to choreograph some

dances for the girls and she told Bianca, thinking that she was

getting her caught up to what’s been going on in her life.

“So how did she end up working with the girls.”

“She must’ve contacted the studio.” That’s why she left the coffee

shop in such a hurry, talking about she had to go to a meeting.

“Jenna! Did you ever call the studio like you promised?

“I had a lot going on. I was emotionally preparing for my dream

job. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to be a choreographer?” I

couldn’t risk not being exceptional at my craft, and plus my

mindset had to be right. Dancing is a lot different than crunching

numbers and wrestling spreadsheets.

“In other words, No!”

“Jen, she did not steal your opportunity,” you never showed any

interest in it. You gave away your opportunity. Didn’t you say that

y’all auditioned together? Is it possible that they contacted you

first and when you didn’t respond they called her, or they

contacted you both?

“Love you sis, I gotta go, I’ve got a client calling in.”

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Later that evening, realizing that Kerry was right, she logged

onto her Instagram account and liked the photo of Bianca and the

dance team.

She called Bianca to congratulate her but had to leave a

message on her voicemail.

For the first time in her life, Jenna accepted that she was the

culprit of her own sabotage. Though her many excuses gave her

an out for things that she didn’t want to do, those same excuses

were the reasons for the lost jobs and opportunities, missed

connections, and abandoned goals.

The saddest part about making excuses is the quiet, lingering

feeling that she could have done more. Been more. That, just

maybe if she’d stopped making excuses and started trying, things

would’ve turned out differently.

The End