"I need to see you in my office. Can you come down as soon as possible please?" he asked her over the interoffice intercom. He put down the phone without waiting for her response, knowing she'd come when her supervisor called.
So began the conversation she dreaded all day. She put the transfer request in his mailbox at lunch and hoped that he'd understand, sign it, and send her on her way without this confrontation. She'd hoped. But hope had just been denied, perhaps right along with her transfer. That remained to be seen.
To say that things were tense lately would not adequately describe what was happening between them. After she'd spent two long months using every opportunity she had to tell him exactly how she felt about him as a leader, as a friend, and honestly, as a man, he spent the following two months keeping her at arm's length, leaving her out of important team decisions, and generally killing her with his lack of feeling and sensitivity. Gone were the long, lingering hugs and kind words they'd enjoyed in the previous two months. They'd been replaced with long stretches of silence and intense periods of ignoring her presence. He'd had a glimpse of her heart, and if he didn't know by now how she felt about him, he likely never would. She couldn't have made it much more plain and simple than she already had. He didn't want it, she figured, based on his response to her offering him her heart.
As she walked down the hall to his office, she steeled herself for whatever was about to come. Perhaps he'd be relieved. He seemed to want this based on his recent interaction with her. Maybe this was just him thanking her for being the one to take the initiative to make this change. Maybe hope wasn't letting her down after all.
"You wanted to see me?" she said upon her arrival in his doorway, noticing how quiet the office was. It got that way after 5:00, she figured.
"I do. Come in and sit down, please," he requested of her in a neutral tone, giving away nothing of what this conversation would entail.
"Sure," she replied and made her way to the table and chairs in his office. After closing the door behind her, he joined her there.
*****
As he looked at her, his heart squeezed in his chest. She wanted to leave him. After saying she never would, she was attempting to do that very thing with the transfer form she'd casually laid in his mailbox for his signature. She had been distant lately, but this was so unlike her. She usually met things head on, even uncomfortable situations like this one. Putting transfer forms in his mailbox without talking to him about it, like it was not a huge move for them both, was not her style. Not at all.
He counted on seeing her every day, basking in the joy she brought to his existence. He depended on her being there to cheer him on, comfort him when things fell apart, as they sometimes did, and generally make his life wonderful just by her presence. And now she wanted to go. How on earth could he let her? But really, how could he stop her if this is what she wanted? He sure wouldn't let her go easily, though. If she wanted this, she was going to have to face him and tell him why. That much he had a right to know, he figured.
"So," he began, "you want to transfer out of here."
"No, it's not what I want," she replied honestly. "It's what I have to do."
"Nobody's forcing you to make this request. You don't 'have to' do this. You want this. And I want to know why before I sign these forms for you," he returned, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice as much as he possibly could, given the fact that she was trampling on his heart.
"You're right. No one is forcing me to transfer. But I have to just the same. I won't survive if I stay," she told him, avoiding eye contact with her best friend, the man who stole her heart but didn't want to possess it.
