I have the worldâs best job. And the worldâs best boss. But then Iâve been in love with him a long time. When we were seniors in high school, Tristan was the bronze Australian Greek god of an exchange student. Ok, youâre going to say he couldnât be an Australian Greek god, but believe me, it was true.
I did everything I could to get him to notice me. At the beginning of the school year, all the girls had a crush on him. But after they all figured out all theyâd get from him was a smile and a friendly hello, they went right on dating their old boyfriends. Only I didnât have any old boyfriends. I loved Tristan ever since.
He went out for all the sports and hung out with the right crowd, one of whom was my best friend Marlaâs brother. So, every time I was at Marla and Johnâs house, and John just happened to be on the phone, I always knew where to find Tristan after the game, or on Saturday afternoons. But try as I might, I never felt like he gave me a second glance. It was pretty challenging to try to get him to even notice I existed.
By the second half of the year, I was growing desperate. I would lie awake in my bed at night, thinking of different things I could do to make him notice I was around. Funny thing, though, your imaginings in the middle of the night always turn out just the way you plan. In the cold harsh daylight of reality, they never worked out right.
For instance, Iâd make it a point to be walking past Tristanâs locker just as he was bent over to get something out of the bottom, I flung the firedog open just a little too hard, and it pushed him in the butt, sending him tipping headlong into his locker! I scrambled into the crowd, hoping he didnât notice who it was who did that. Once coming into the library I stopped suddenly, forcing Tristan to bump into me. Only instead of producing the desired smile, and âexcuse meâ I expected, he dropped his books and papers all over the floor and when we both bent over to retrieve them, he conked his head on the nearby table. I gathered his things in a pile and handed them to him and disappeared while he stood there rubbing his head.
There were many others, but you get the point. By the end of the school year, I was growing desperate, and was starting to think Iâll only have one last shot. I could throw myself down on the tarmac and lie there in the path of the plane as he was taking off to go back to Australia. I bet that would get his attention, and let him know how much I love him. Heâs only twice looked at me and smiled and said âHi.â But not enough of a conversation to get him to realize just how much I love him.
After graduation, of course, everyone goes their own way. That summer, I resigned myself to the harsh reality Iâll never see him again. Iâll just go through life an old spinster, never marrying or being serious about any boy again, just because I couldnât have Tristan. I went to college, moved in with Marla and for years worked at the bank. Then about ten years later, Marla was marrying Steve Something Polish, and the bank was closed and sold to another outfit from out of town and suddenly I was out of work, checking the classifieds and applying for any suitable work I could find.
Just when I was at the end of my rope, the rent was past due, and I had a stack of unpaid bills and no visible way of paying them, I spotted the last classified on the page that had nothing to do with being a trucker or a telemarketer. Wanted: Office Manager, Personal Assistant for busy Contractor.
Well that is right up my alley. So, I got all cleaned up, borrowed some money for gas, had my updated resume in hand, and drove to the address given. Walked to the door, let myself in to a rather nice house turned into an office, and just as I was ready to ask the man about the open position, I froze.
There was Tristan. After ten years, still an Australian Greek god. Wearing a workmanâs jeans and flannel shirt and cap, and looking more handsome and rugged than ever Iâd seen him. I gulped, oh, god, this must be some kind of cosmic joke. This is a funny thought, cos he had the very same look on his face.
âTristan Hugh! How good to see you after all these years. And you look as good as you ever did. Iâm here to apply for the job.â
âUh, you have me at a loss, Miss. I remember you from high school, but I canât for the life of me remember your name.â
âEmily. Emily Cooper.â
âOh, yes, how could I forget?â (Thatâs what I was wondering.) âYou were the klutziest girl around and it always seemed to happen to me. You slammed my fingers in my locker door.â
âUh, well, I didnât mean to.â
âYou also turned the water fountain on and appeared to aim it right at my history report. It was all wet and I was ashamed to turn it in.â
âWell, I didnât think the spray would go at a right angle like that.â
âAnd once, I tripped over your foot coming to the top step when somehow I mysteriously fell Up the Stairs in front of everybody and you suddenly disappeared.â
âNow, That was an accident.â
âOh, so the others werenât!?! Youâre here to ask me for a job? Oh, this is too rich.â
âBut Tristan, I was always so in love with you, I wanted to do everything I could just to get you to notice me.â
âOh, I noticed you alright. Enough to want to steer clear. This is pretty tough, though,â He was glancing over my resume as I stood there feeling so uncomfortable. âYours is the best resume Iâve seen. And I really need somebody.â The phone rang as he spoke. âHere, Iâll get that,â and glancing at the letterhead on the desk, answered the phone flawlessly in my best business secretaryâs voice.
After the call, he looked resigned, though impressed and said, âOk, hereâs the deal. Iâll give you a try. But donât screw anything up around here, ok? Iâve worked years to get this business off the ground.â
âIf I really screw anything up, you can not pay me for that day, how about that?