The Replacement.

              The office was silent, except for the sounds of feet scuffing against tile and typing keys. There were twelve of us in the analytics department, all bent over our computers, thankfully, separated from each other’s eyesight through tall partitions between our desks. When I glanced up at the clock hands inching closer to five, to me, I could hear each second as it ticked by, even though the clock was silent.

I glanced back down to the double screens before me and clenched my hands a few times, searching for feeling. I had expected the new job to be challenging, but that was part of the fun, right? What gave a job meaning if it did not challenge you, push you to exercise parts of yourself begging to be strained and utilized to their fullest potential.

              I hadn’t expected it to be the boring type of challenge. Hours spent at my desk, pouring over protocols and documents, trying to untangle the web of a mess that had been left for me. It would have been easier to dismantle the operation of the entire department and begin anew, but that was not my job. My daily life now would be filled with struggle, frustration, and the expectation to endure it with a pleasant expression on my face that did not deter my coworkers.

              “Pricilla?”

              I turned in my swivel chair, tugging my eyes from the spreadsheet of numbers on my computer screen, and tilted my chin up to see Charlotte, my mentor. Her dark red hair swayed around her shoulders as she leaned against the desk partition.

              “We’re having a staff party tonight. You should come,” Charlotte said without preamble before I could even utter a greeting.

              “Oh, I don’t know. It’s kind of last minute.” I had only worked in the department for a month and was not the kind of person eager to spend time with people I was not friendly with. This would be a New Year’s Eve party, the clock was ticking down to 2023, and I couldn’t say I was anticipating great things in the new year. Spending New Year’s Eve with a bunch of near strangers was not my idea of a fun night.

              “We’ve been planning it for weeks. It would be a shame for you to miss it.”

              “Right,” I said. She would guilt me into going, as if I owed her something for guiding me the last month. Her mentorship had been fairly lax. I had to figure out most components of my work by myself, as Charlotte spend most of our mentorship time flirting with the guy the next desk over, Martin. Charlotte would sit before the partition, one leg on my side of the desk, the other on Martins. I don’t know how Martin got any work done. I knew little of what she actually said to him; her focus on my training was so abysmal I could wear earpods during our session. It beat listening to her fake laughter. From what I had gleaned from Martin, he was not a funny guy. 

              “Say that you’ll go. Please?” Charlotte said.

              I tried not to sigh. She did not care if I personally went, none of my coworkers would. I was just another body to supplement the crowd so it would feel like a real party. “Of course, I’ll be there.”

              Charlotte beamed. “Eight o’clock at the Eugenia’s conference center at the Balantine’s.” She turned as if to go, then looked back at me. “You’re welcome to bring someone. Boyfriend. Friends. The more the merrier.”

               I offered a tightlipped smile. “Thanks.” The word tasted bitter in my mouth. I had no one to bring, not that Charlotte would know that. She did not seek personal information from me, and I did not offer any. Friendship had never come easy to me. At twenty-five, you would think I would have figured out the secret, but it still eluded me.

              “Great!” Charlotte said, walking away, probably pleased at the thought of more bodies occupying her party. She would be lucky if I even showed up, my mood had only soured.

              I settled back into my chair and resumed pouring over figures. It was late by the time I emerged from my analysis coma. I shook my head as I glanced at the clock. Quarter to seven already. From the silence around me, I knew everyone had left, and only I remained in the office. Standing, observing the abandoned room, I confirmed I was the only person remaining. They were probably all over at the Balantine’s now prepping for the party, or home, eating and changing. What did people wear to a staff party, anyways? My clothing was nothing extra. Skinny jeans, black boots, and a black v-neck sweater with a negligible amount of pill over a blood red t-shirt. It would have to do, if I actually attended the party.

              I sat back down and tapped my fingers against the table, thinking. As much as I knew the party would be a complete bore, I needed to go, but not to please Charlotte or any of the sad saps I worked with. I need to push myself in all directions, seek challenges to conquer. That was my New Year’s resolution, so why not start now?

              I picked myself out of the chair, enjoying the blissful silence of the room, the solitude, before leaving the building. Snow greeted me, flickering orange in the outdoor lights, blowing on a slight breeze, drifting in one direction, and then the other, before gathering on the sidewalks of the city streets. An inch had already accumulated. One of the things I had always found fascinating about snow was how it made air patterns visible. The swirls, the eddies, illustrated by the shining flakes.

              Main street was busy, bright with car lights as traffic slowed to a crawl with the weather, the streets unnaturally busy with pedestrians. Warm light cascaded from buildings, crowded, as everyone celebrated the beginning of a new year. Shoulders hunched, I trudged my way to the nearest gas station and picked up a sandwich. Returning to the lab, now desolate of even the cleaning crew, I sat at a table in the lobby and ate my dinner. A glass skylight reined dark above me, and tables, usually all occupied during work hours, spread empty around me. My department may be small, but this lab was large, employing a few thousand people. I finished up my chicken sandwich and crinkled the wrapper in my hands, the sound loud in the still building. It was almost eight, and despite my reluctance to attend this party, I wouldn’t arrive late. My boots, the bottom rubber wet from snow melt, squeaked across the floor as I departed again.

              The hotel reached towards the sky above me, at least twenty stories. It wasn’t the premier hotel of the city, but it did have history, dating back to the early nineteen hundreds. Although you wouldn’t know it by the interior. The hotel had been refurbished multiple times, and the lobby was a picture of the modern hotel lobby. Squeaky clean large marble squares, elegant beige colored drapes on the side of arched windows, and plush black leather chairs. A marble desk with two receptionists checking in guests. The walls varying shades of pale grey, with an elaborate crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling. The hotel did not look its age.

              I had been here before for another work-related event a couple years ago. I worked in a different department, but the event was for the entire research division, and I had attempted, poorly, to network. I knew to go to the elevator and hit the second floor, arriving at the selection of event spaces. I found the Eugenia room without issue and was greeted, surprisingly, by a well-populated room. Another modernized space, sharing the same aesthetics of the lobby, with the lights just a little dimmer, for mood, and a tv depicting the happenings in times square mounted in a corner.

              I had expected my stilted, awkward co-workers to be dressed in ill-fitting suits, tugging at their collars, standing anxiously around waiting for this thing to end. Their attendance perfunctory, to keep Charlotte from having a meltdown and making their lives more miserable at work.

              I hadn’t expected to be greeted by laughter, with well over half the people in the room being people I did not know. No one was dressed up for the occasion, sure some women wore dresses and skirts, and some men had on a collared shirt, but none of it was business attire. Most clutched bottles of beer or wine glasses in their hands. I spotted a bar with shot glasses and an array of beverages across the room. Alcohol really did wonders.

              I avoided the stuff at all costs.

              Charlotte accosted me before I had taken five steps into the room. Her cheeks were cherry red, and a teal dress with fluttery sleeves hung off her bony form.

              “You came!” Charlotte beamed. “Shot?” She shoved a shot glass of amber liquid in my face.

              I pressed her hand down and away. “I don’t drink.”

              She frowned at that, but then her smile resumed as she drowned the shot and wrapped an arm through mine, leading me through the crowd.

              “You have to listen to Martin talk about his vacation in the Southwest last year. He was lost in the desert for three days!” Charlotte said, stepping around a group of people huddled in the center of the room. I cringed as they burst out laughing, at what, I did not know.

              “That sounds awful.”

              “He could have died! I’m so glad he didn’t.” Charlotte’s voice lowered conspiratorially. “He asked me over to his place tonight.”

              “Isn’t that breaking the rules in the employee handbook?”

              She shrugged. “Does anyone really follow them? We’re all adults.”

              I wasn’t going to argue about it with her. What she did was none of my business. My current business entailed finding a way to extract myself from Charlotte. I felt as though she intended to parade me around like a pet, as if to demonstrate to her coworkers she had successfully acquired a follower, or a work friend. I may have attended the party at Charlotte’s insistence, but I had no interest in spending time with her, or Martin, who seemed to be our inevitable destination.

              Charlotte casually introduced me to our coworker’s significant others as she pushed through the crowd. I had no choice but to listen to the prattle and pretend I cared.

              “You know Danny, of course. That’s his wife, Angela. They did not invite me to their wedding last year.” She tugged me forward, to another group. “And these are Freddie’s brother and sister, Mark and Polly. They are triplets! Not identical, of course.” The group offered an eerily similar kind smile, before resuming whatever it is triplets in their forties talk about. “And here’s Jacob and his new girlfriend. He brings a new one to every event, but what can you expect from someone fresh out of college? I don’t know her name…”

              Charlotte continued speaking, but my attention had drifted across the room and latched on tight to a familiar, handsome face. I didn't know him well, but I recognized him. I had never got close enough to talk to him, never figured out who he was, when I had seen him around about six months ago, and I hadn’t seen him again, until this moment.

              I tried not to stare at him. In his white pullover sweater, beige cargo pants, and golden hair, he was the antithesis of me, with my dark clothing, dark brown hair, and pale complexion. His face glowed healthily with a faded tan, the remnants of summer still present in the dregs of December. I looked ill in comparison. 

              “Who’s that?” I found myself asking Charlotte, fighting the instinct to bite my tongue off instead of engaging in this event.

              “Oh, Evan.”

              He had a name. Evan.

              “He used to work with us,” Charlotte continued. “You took his job after he left, actually.”

              My stomach soured. I was Evan’s replacement. The man I had ruminated on in my darker, lonelier moments, the missed connection who had sparked my interest.

              “He probably came with Jody and Chad. They were close friends.”

              “You know,” I said, pulling my arm from Charlotte, a more desirable alternative to listening to Martin drone about the desert appearing before me. “I have some questions about last quarter I think he could answer.”

              “This isn’t the place to talk about work,” Charlotte said. “This is a party!”

              Charlotte had definitely pre-gamed and done far more shots than she should have. Martin would have a lovely night cleaning up her vomit, if what she said about his offer was true. I had reason to believe she probably misinterpreted him. He far more likely offered to give her a ride home to prevent her from driving drunk.

              “Well, you know what they say about those who work too hard. They can leave the office, but the office doesn’t leave them.” Even I cringed at my words. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit?”

              “Fine,” Charlotte said. “Just don’t bore the man.”

              I tried to keep my breathing steady as I crossed the room, grabbing a glass of iced water from the bar on my way. Maybe I should have had Charlotte introduce us, but I couldn’t risk her dragging me off to Martin. I would face this challenge myself, hopefully with a positive outcome. I sped up when the couple Evan was talking to wandered to the drink table, leaving Evan blessedly alone.

              “Hi, Evan?” I said, stepping up to him, and offering a rarely used smile.

              He smiled, warm, open, as if genuinely pleased to see me. That was new. “I am. Do I know you? You seem familiar?”

              “Oh no, I don't think so," I said. Although I did trip in front of him the one time we had been in close proximity, and I had darted from the room, red-faced with embarrassment. "I’m Cilla. Well, my name is Pricilla, but I prefer Cilla. I took over your job in analytics.”

              “Congratulations,” he nodded, not a note of condensation or sarcasm in place. He was sincere. “I hope you are having better luck with it than I did. It’s not easy.”       

              The sincerity, the smiles, were all too much. I couldn’t help the words that spilled out of me, my default state overtaking me. “You left quite a mess." I then wished the ground would open beneath my feet and swallow me.

              He laughed. A musical sound to my ears, putting me at ease. “There’s a lot to it, isn’t it? But the challenge was always fun.”      

              “I feel the same.”

              “I’m happy with my new job, but I do still miss it here sometimes. The people, mostly. I mean, everyone has their quirks, but it’s a good group.”

              I glanced around at my coworkers, drinking, and laughing. Coworkers I had dismissed, when perhaps I should have given them a chance. I glanced up at Evan. “Maybe they aren’t so bad,” I agreed.

              He smiled again, melting another of the icy layers around my heart. If he kept this up, my heart would thaw enough that I would even give Charlotte a hug by the end of the night.

              “Why did you leave?” I found myself asking, gently sloshing the ice in my glass of water. “If you like them so much. If you like it here?”

              “Sometimes I think walking away from here was the dumbest decision I had made, but I need to go out and experience something else. Stretch my legs, my mind. See the world. It sounds very cliché, mid-life crisis like, but it’s not that. Not at all.”

              He was certainly too young for that. He had to be my age, maybe a couple years older. Twenty-seven, tops. As handsome and appealing as the times I had glimpsed him.

              “Everyone should go out and experience the world,” I said, smiling. I too wished for such things, but money, my own fears, had held me back.            

              “And where would you go?” He took a swig of beer, grinning again.

              “Well, first I would go to Italy. Perhaps find where my ancestors lived.”

              Our conversation trailed off into debates about world travel, the best places to visit, and then as our travel conversation ended, I made myself leave him. Overwhelmed by the entire exchange, embarrassed at my obvious interest. I should try to speak to my other coworkers, make an effort. My feet felt like lead as I put space between us.

              As the night wore on, I found myself relenting and drifting to Evan again and again, until I dropped the pretense of carrying on casual conversation with everyone and just remained at his side. He didn’t seem to mind. It was so easy talking to him, about figures and statistics, about his new work, his past, my past. The sounds of my coworkers seemed to melt away, and was it me, or had he stepped closer? Could he feel the pull too? It seemed too much to hope for, but I hoped anyways.

              “The ball’s dropping,” Evan said, gesturing at the television screen with his beer bottle. He had drunk several beers over the course of the conversation, but didn’t seem tipsy. A little lighter, easy to laugh, but far from drunk.

              “Already?” The party was supposed to end just after midnight, and I wasn’t ready to be parted from Evan.

              He laughed. “You sound like you are actually enjoying this party, when I distinctly remember you telling me you didn’t want to be here.”

              “Well, I changed my mind,” I said, bold.

              “Why was that?”

His eyes met mine and I didn’t look away. Cheers erupted around us, as the clock struck midnight. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Charlotte pulling Martin in for a kiss, but then my attention was drawn back to Evan as his hand cupped my cheek, his gaze warm and open for me, his replacement. My eyes widened before fluttering close as Evan brought his lips to mine. It was as magical as I had imagined.

He pulled back, and we stared at each other grinning like fools.

"You know, I think I do remember you. In the cafeteria, I think you fell down in front of me? And then ran off? Was that you?" He said, appraising me.

I didn't confirm his memory, I just pulled him down to kiss him again with a contented sigh, relieved I had gone to the party after all.