august.
"back when I was living for the hope of it all."
I could feel my hands shake as I straightened my back, trying to stand tall. I was raised to be sweet and docile, taught that keeping my own thoughts and opinions to myself was the key to being desirable. My mother drilled it into me from a young age—"You get more flies with honey than with vinegar." But no one ever tells you what happens when you swallow your words for too long.
I took a slow breath, pushing my shoulders back, though I know my posture won't make much of a difference. At 5'7", I'm not short, but I've never felt particularly commanding either. My long brown hair, neatly tucked behind my ear, a nervous habit more than anything, and when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass wall of the conference room, I couldn't help but notice it again—the way I look like a tanned version of my mother. The same delicate features, the same sharp cheekbones, but with my father's deep brown eyes. It's something she used to mention with pride when I was younger. Lately, it feels more like an observation she makes in passing, as if she's reminding herself that I will never be her, or never as good as her.
I shifted my focus back to the meeting, my pulse kicking up as the conversation carried on without me. As always, I'm the youngest in the room, the one no one takes seriously. It doesn't help that I'm surrounded by men who talk over me like I'm a decorative plant in the corner rather than a project manager who knows exactly what she's doing.
Finally, I cleared my throat to interrupt, determined to make them hear me."As…um I stated earlier, if…if we don't take action now we're gonna miss the deadline. And then that's a failure on our part? What's the contingency-" I began to say before being interrupted by Justin. He is 6 foot 3, a muscular build, clean styled auburn hair, with suntanned skin and a faint 5 o'clock shadow forming around his chiseled jaw. And while his looks may be a hit, his attitude surely isn't.
"I mean Ducky, we told you-"
"My name is not Ducky," I mumbled, though my voice barely rose above a whisper.
"Right, sorry, August," he said, his tone dripping with insincerity. "We've already discussed this. The team isn't going to have the bandwidth to finish the current project and take on yours. Maybe next quarter or after I get back from the trip, we can circle back to it?" He asked, as he began walking over to where I'm standing, staring into my eyes intently, almost as if to intimidate me into agreeing. And I hate how easily I cave under his stare.
"I just think…" My voice trails off. "Fine. After the trip, we can revisit my idea. But I want Mr. Marino to be given these meeting notes." I scoffed. The room went stark quiet. No one met my eyes. They just glanced at one another, shifting awkwardly. Justin nodded and gestured to the secretary, asking her to email him the notes.
Even as I stepped away, I could still feel the tremor in my hands, the unease knotting my stomach. My blood pressure rose as I left the room. This isn't the first time Justin had dismissed my ideas, only to repurpose them later as his own. It's infuriating to watch him dismiss my work as unfeasible simply because he can't execute it as well as I can.
I just need a moment to breathe. Working with him is insufferable, and no one else seems willing to step in or help.
I hurried to my office, keeping my head down to avoid the stares I could feel following me. Gossip travels fast here, and I wanted no part of it.. Eventually I made it to the sanctuary of my space and I plopped myself down and let out a long sigh of relief. Corporate life was never something I envisioned for myself, but life doesn't always leave room for dreams. This is where I am now, whether I like it or not. Being the youngest project manager on the team, leads everyone to think I don't know what I'm doing, toppled with the fact that my best friend, Mallory Marino, Mals, is the CEO's daughter. Who also works in Marino & Co but in the marketing department. Whether nepotism or merit, I'm here and Justin's condescending tone and the way his words drip with doubt, it's clear he doesn't think I belong here.
Mallory is my childhood best friend, more of a sister than anything. She is a little taller than me at 5 '9. Her modelesque frame complemented by flawless porcelain skin, long black hair, and striking deep blue eyes. She has an air of confidence about her that turns heads, something I've always admired. Growing up an only child is always a twist of two fates. Either they are perfectly fine being alone or riddled with loneliness. I was the latter growing up. I begged my parents for a sibling, but life had other plans. My dad passed away when I was four years old. I don't remember much of it, truthfully, the most I remember is my mom waking me up in the middle of the night saying, "daddy left to meet Jesus in Heaven sweetie, it's just us now." We moved within the next day or two. We left everything behind in that old house, all of my childhood pictures, except for the single polaroid I have on the beach of when I was 3, and every good memory of him. Our little family vanished in the traces of what used to be.
That moment marked the end of my fun-loving, free-spirited mother. The woman who once woke me up with pancakes shaped like animals became someone I barely recognized, distant, strict, and deeply entrenched in religious discipline. A shell of herself. She traded her laughter for rules, her warmth for rigidity. It was her way of coping, I suppose, but it left me navigating a childhood that felt cold and isolating. From a young age, my mother prepared me for one thing: to be a wife and a mother. Nothing more, nothing less. Loneliness became my constant companion, until I met Mals. From the moment we became friends, I clung to her like a lifeline, and she never let go. Mals filled the void my mother couldn't, becoming the sister I never had and the one person who could pull me out of my solitude
Before my dad passed, we lived in Carmel-By-The-Sea, California, a quaint little town I only vaguely remember. What I do recall is the crisp, salty air and the early morning swims that left a chill in my bones. After he died, we relocated to Gig Harbor, Washington, where we've lived ever since. My mother, always well-off, moved us into a small, gated golf-cart community. It was the kind of neighborhood where kids played outside until the street lights came on, and everyone knew everyone.
I had just turned five when we moved, and Mallory, who was seven, lived two houses down. Though we attended the same school, we didn't know each other much. My mom had an intense fear of kidnappings and would shoot down my constant begging with firm refusals and lectures on the dangers of the world. It wasn't until Dolores, Mallory's mom, knocked on our door to invite us to a 4th of July block party that my mom relented. Mallory and I played for hours, running up and down the streets, jumping into the river that bordered our neighborhood, and stuffing ourselves with food until we could barely move. For the first time since we'd moved, I felt at home. And from that moment on, Mallory became my best friend, my inseparable other half.
When my mom became overbearing, I'd escape to Mallory's house; it was my safe haven, and her family always welcomed me with open arms. Mallory and I couldn't have been more different. I was a precocious girl hidden by a veil of innocence, while Mallory was bold, daring, and anything but shy. She had a knack for getting us into trouble in the wildest ways, yet while she brought me out of my shell, I like to think I kept her grounded.
Despite being two years older than me, people often assumed I was the older one. At school, we'd tell people we were sisters, and when they didn't believe us, we'd settle on saying we were cousins. She was family, in every sense of the word. She always had my back, and I had hers.
Through grade school, I made sure she stayed on track, nudging her to focus on her grades and ditch class less often. In return, she made sure I didn't keep my face buried in books all the time, pushing me to embrace a more rebellious side. We balanced each other perfectly. But when I left for college, Mallory started working at her father's company, knowing full well that more years of school weren't for her. The distance was tough; we were hundreds of miles apart but it didn't change the bond we shared. Even now, you won't see one of us without the other. Mallory isn't just my best friend; she's my sister in every way that counts.
I was deep in thought, replaying the meeting and wondering what I could've done differently, when a sharp knock pulled me out of my head. Erik stepped into the room. He stood at about 5 '11", with olive skin and an average build that still managed to hint at hidden strength beneath the surface. He was dressed in his usual understated style: a black button-up and matching slacks. Erik was the office enigma, equal parts mystery and charm. His dark curls framed his face perfectly, and his smile while small met the corners of his eyes.
"Hey August, I was wondering if you have those sheets filled out for the upcoming trip?" he asked softly.
"Yeah, I have them I just need to look them over really quick and sign them, it shouldn't take long but I can fax them over if you would like?" I responded.
"Oh, no I don't mind waiting, I don't have much going on today. My day is almost over anyway, just tying up some loose ends." He said with a smile. Erik had a way of drawing attention without even trying. Dreamy, but in a dark and unassuming way, like the kind of storm you wouldn't mind getting lost in. I realized I'd been staring too long and cleared my throat.
"So are you going to go as well or?" I asked, trying to break the silence.
He let out a soft chuckle, his attention shifting to his phone as if to dodge the question. He paused for a moment, the quiet stretching just long enough to make me slightly nervous, maybe even a little giddy. "I…uh, haven't decided yet," he said, finally looking up. "There's a lot going on here, but I'd love to go. The company really goes all out on these team bonding trips. It's your first one, right? You'll be surprised at how extravagant they can be. Ever been to Hawaii?"
"I have, actually. I went to the University of Hawaii, well, for a while," I said, a sad expression written on my face. He raised an eyebrow almost as if he was questioning what I just said.
"I was there for my first two years," I continued, "but around the beginning of my third year, my mom got sick. I had to drop out and come back home." I paused, trying to shake off the wave of sadness threatening to creep in. "I chose Hawaii because it felt like I was studying abroad without actually going abroad. It was the only compromise my mom and I could agree on. But Hawaii…" I trailed off, a small smile tugging at my lips as I thought back. "It's like no other place. God definitely took his time creating her. I hope you can make it, because pictures don't even come close to doing it justice."
"You surprise me, August." He said. When I looked up, he was smiling fully this time, and it was different, warm and genuine, lighting up his face in a way that made my heart skip a beat. My cheeks flushed, and before I could stop myself, I found myself getting lost in the deep forest of his eyes.
The way Erik says my name melts me into my seat. We held each other's gaze for what felt like hours, though it couldn't have been more than a few seconds, before another knock interrupted us. Justin walked in, his eyes flicked between me and Erik before settling back on me.
"Duuucky, I was going to ask you if you could cover for me during the trip but seeing as Erik is here and you have the folder I'm gonna assume you're also going?" he asked.
"It's AUGUST!" I exclaimed, glaring at him as he raised his hands in mock defense.
"Sorry August, it's just Ducky is soooo suiting, you know?" He said with a smug smile. After a few seconds of silence I finally gave in, and answered
"Yes, Justin, I am going on the trip, but why would you need me to cover it? This is a work trip, wouldn't we be, you know, working?" I said.
Justin laughed, the kind of laugh that made it clear he didn't take me seriously.
"Work? On these trips? As if!"
"But I thought-"
"We go on these trips as a way to bond vacation-style," he interrupted. "No one's actually working. Oh, and word on the street is someone's turning 21 soon. Might wanna delegate some of your tasks so you can really let loose. But eh, you do you, Ducky." he said as he slowly walked out of my office,
"IT'S AUGUST!" I shouted as he closed the door behind him.
Erik, who'd been watching the entire thing, looked at me, clearly bemused. I could feel my cheeks heating, so I busied myself shuffling through the files on my desk.
"Uh ducky? What's that about" He finally asked.
"It's an embarrassing story, I…would rather not get into" I said letting out a forced laugh. Erik didn't press, but he leaned against the table near the wall, crossing his arms as he studied me. His quiet presence was enough to make me hyper-aware of myself. I focused on signing the last of the papers, willing the heat in my face to subside. Finally I handed him the paperwork.
"Well, August," he said, flashing a soft smile that made my stomach flutter. "It's always a pleasure visiting you. If you need anything, I'll be in my office. But…" He paused, his eyes full of mischief. "I do hope I get to hear that story someday, as embarrassing as it might be."
Before I could respond, he winked at me, took the papers, and walked out, leaving the room feeling a little emptier.
I let out a deep sigh, leaning back in my chair. My thoughts wandered to Erik and what he might be like outside of work. Despite the walls I'd built and the doubts I carried, he'd always been one of the most welcoming people here. We'd often catch up in the food court, yet I still didn't know which department he worked in. I couldn't help but wonder if, maybe, I'd find out one day. I started to pack up my stuff as a text came in.
Mals: "Heard about what happened today with Justin, wanna meet up at the usual spot?"
Auggie: "I really don't want to talk about it, besides I still have to figure out if I'm even going on the trip. I signed the papers today but mom is still insistent on me not going…"
Mals: "When is she gonna give? You're 20 literally gonna turn 21 right before we leave. She has to let you grow up at some point! Just tell her this is all you want for your bday!"
Auggie: "I wish it was that simple… Mals… but you know she's sick and if something were to happen to her while I'm gone…I would NEVER forgive myself."
Mals: "One day that umbilical cord is gonna snap, i think it should happen sooner than later, besides you have Maria her full time nurse and if anything we can get you on the quickest flight back. Think about it? Luv ya girly ! I'll be at Mark's then, but if you need me, im a call away."
Auggie: "I'll think about it. Love ya too <3"
The pressure to be the perfect daughter has never subsided. Maybe Mallory is right, this is my chance, even though guilt still nags at me for leaving my mom behind. She's stable now, and if not now, then when? My mind cycled through a million things that could go wrong, refusing to entertain the thought of what might go right.
I finished my end-of-shift tasks and finally made my way to the elevator. Just as the doors began to close, a hand slipped in. It was Erik. My face instantly heated, though I was grateful my golden complexion made my blush less obvious. Still, it felt like my emotions were written all over me.
He gave me a quiet "hello" paired with a small smile. We locked eyes for a moment, then stood in silence until he finally broke it.
"We're on the 20th floor," he said, turning to face me. "That gives us roughly two minutes for you to finally tell me the story behind this elusive 'Ducky.'" His curiosity was evident, his tone teasing. I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes playfully. I could feel my heart pounding at his intense look and finally I gave in.
"Fine, but this does NOT leave the elevator, cause no one besides Justin and I know the full story." I declared.
He smirked and held out his pinky. I couldn't help but smile at the silly gesture. Without hesitation, I hooked my pinky with his. We stood like that for a few seconds, the moment strangely intimate.
"Okay" I sighed. "Well when I first started working here, I slept through my alarm one day and I was running really late. So when I got out of the shower I grabbed whatever I found in my drawers. And went about my day completely forgetting what I was wearing. After the daily meeting, everyone had left but I stayed behind, I was bending over to pick some papers I had dropped and to my dismay Justin had come back into the room at the right time and… there it was my bright blue thong with a little cartoon duck on the small piece of fabric in the back, and well he has called me "Ducky" ever since." Erik blinked, processing the story, then burst into laughter, a deep, genuine laugh that somehow eased my embarrassment.
"Okay, yeah, I understand why you kept that one to yourself," he said, grinning. "Not exactly the office persona you want to latch on to."
"Yeeeaah no! I went straight home and threw away all my cartoony stuff, never again and now you know my villain origin story" I said. We stared at each other smiling and quietly laughing until the elevator stopped at the lobby.
"Can I walk you to your car?" Erik asked.
My heart sped up again, the question catching me off guard. "Uh, yeah, sure," I stammered. "It's kinda far, though. Are you sure?"
"I don't mind," he said with a casual shrug. "I've been sitting all day. A walk sounds nice."
We walked together, chatting easily. When we reached my car, it turned out his was parked just a few spots away, which eased my guilt about making him walk.
Before we parted, Erik hesitated, then shyly asked for my number. There was no way I could say no. We exchanged numbers, and I watched as he drove away in his old, beat-up Mustang. I wasn't sure of the year, I'm not a car person, but it matched his rugged aesthetic perfectly. Climbing into my own 2006 blue-green Corolla, I smiled at the thought of how different we were. My car was a gift from my mom when I turned 17, meant for chauffeuring her around. "Because that's what good daughters do," she used to say.
Life with my mom has always been a rollercoaster. My childhood was littered with her critiques: "Don't wear your hair like that, boys don't like girls who look like boys.""Don't show your midriff, you're not built for that kind of clothing.""Stop slouching.""Don't talk back." And the most repeated one: "Don't have sex before marriage. Not only is it against God's will, but no man wants 'used goods.'"
And while I hated most of what she said, the last one has stuck with me ever since. But maybe for different reasons. I don't care about being used goods or anything but I like the idea of preserving myself for the man that is going to love me until eternity, as dramatic as that sounds. I don't remember much about my parents when they were together, but the way my mom talks about their early days makes me believe in waiting for someone special. It's one of the few things I feel I have control over in my life. At home, my mom is in charge and at work, well everyone but me is in control. But my virginity is mine alone, something no one can take unless I choose to give it. It's not something I talk much about, although I've told a few people.
I was ridiculed during my high school days, mostly by Mallory but by others too. Bets have been made on guys trying to sleep with me, they've all lost. No one has been worth giving it all too. Dating has been difficult, hook-up culture is on the rise and the minute guys find out I'm a virgin AND waiting for marriage they either run for the hills or make it a challenge for themselves to disrobe me without putting a ring on my finger. Still I remain hopeful. Somewhere out there, my one exists. I just have to find him, or maybe let him find me.
Instead of heading straight home, I stopped at a little bakery to pick up some treats for my mom. I thought maybe a box of her favorite pastries might soften her up before I broke the news: I'd signed the paperwork for the upcoming work trip. It's hard not to get too excited about it, even though I know how much she needs me right now. I want to be a good daughter and take care of her, but I also want to live my life. Still, the thought of not being there for her during this battle feels unbearable. She's my mom, she'd move the planets for me, and I'd do the same for her.
That's what makes this so hard. I was so close to finishing my degree, and I even overloaded my schedule to try to graduate early. But life had other plans. When she got sick, I had to pivot. Maybe one day, I'll go back and finish. Maybe not in Hawaii, but somewhere. I'd still love to earn my BA, and try to get into law school.
Telling her I'm going on this trip feels harder than the day I told her I was accepted to UH Maui. That conversation was brutal, probably second only to when I explained I'd be living in a co-ed apartment. We argued about that for days. But when the time came, she drove me to the airport with all my things packed, tears streaming down both our faces. It's a memory etched in my heart, her letting me go, even though it hurt.
My bond with my mom is like no other. Even when she's strict, I know it's because she wants what's best for me. She raised me as a single mother, and growing up with her showed me just how powerful and resilient people can be. Of course, we had help. Mallory and her family were part of our village, and together, we survived. We thrived.
I think about those college days, pouring myself into my studies, hoping to pull us both forward. And then I think about when she got sick. It was like the world tipped over, and everything fell out of place. That's what makes this trip feel so monumental. I'm worried about leaving her for three weeks, but I feel deep in my gut that this is something I need to do, not just for me, but for us.
Mr. Marino took a chance on me, even without any real experience, simply because I'm friends with Mallory. He's always been like a father figure to me, but now he's my boss, and I want to prove to him—and to myself—that I can rise to the challenge. This trip isn't just about work; it's about building a future. And maybe, just maybe, it'll show my mom how responsible I've been, how far I've come.
With a bag full of pastries in hand, I headed home, bracing myself for the uphill battle ahead.