The Boss & The Assistant - Rewritten Edition of "The Boss"

Chapter 7 - Emerson

By September, everyday felt just like any other day. I remember when I first started at the coffee shop I was terrified I was never going to get the hang of it, but I did. When I decided to go into administrative work, I was terrified of the change. It felt like starting all over, like I had spent years learning how to ride a bike and I was suddenly forced to drive a car. None of it was forced, though, and none of it was truly that scary. Going from Carla's temporary assistant to Mr. Jett's assistant was more nerve-wracking than anything. And yet, I persisted enough to the point that many things felt routine and second nature.

My favorite routine was getting lunch on Wednesdays with Mr. Jett. He was still quiet and reserved, but it was when he was most talkative out of any other moment during the week. Usually, I was doing most of the talking, or blabbering. Mr. Jett entertained me. It felt like he was listening genuinely, but sometimes I shared too much or was borderline incomprehensible. I had been told I was annoying when I talked, but Mr. Jett didn't seem annoyed. Of course, he was impossible to read.

"Anyway," I said over my black bean burger. "I don't really talk to my dad's side of the family anymore. When Granny divorced her husband - my dad's dad - it seemed like my dad's brother took their dad's side, even though my grandfather wasn't really a good guy. Thus, Granny and Dad moved to New York and found their own family with my mom's family."

I was a slow eater because I talked too much, but this was fine because Lafayette always ordered more food that we tended to finish eating at the same time. He'd nod as he scarfed down whatever was on his plate. Sometimes he even took leftovers off of my plate, with my permission.

"Granny is actually besties with my other grandma and my great aunt," I said. I paused, pushing the cantaloupe to the edge of my plate. I didn't like cantaloupe. "Sorry, I've said that before. I repeat myself a lot. Anyway, I-"

"Wait a minute," he said. He took a drink of water, washing down his fried pickles. "Why are you apologizing for that?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, because I already forgot what I had just said.

"Don't apologize for repeating yourself," he said.

"Oh...it's fine, I mean, I do repeat myself a lot and it can be annoying. It-"

"It's not annoying," he said. "Who told you that?"

I paused, caught severely off guard. "Well, just...some guy," I said. I had been dating a guy for about three months when he told me how annoying it was that I repeated myself. We didn't last that long after that.

"Well that guy can fuck off," he said. "Obviously you're repeating yourself because whatever you're repeating is important to you. Even if it's not, who cares? Who says that to someone? A fucking idiot, that's who." Mr. Jett had a slight, classic New York accent. He did not cuss often, but when he did I could really hear it come through. Also, when he said "coffee."

"Yeah, he kind of was an idiot," I said, smiling.

"There you go," he said. "Go ahead, finish your story."

"It's not much of a story," I said. "I mean, what about your grandparents? I never hear about them really." I didn't hear much about his family, to be honest. Maybe I shouldn't have asked him.

"My grandparents are dead, sadly. Funny enough, my father has a similar story to yours, but his parents were never married. He had a bad relationship with his father. His mother died a little over a decade ago, so I did know her. She was a magnificent woman. My mother's parents died before I was born. My poor mother, parentless by the time she was eighteen."

"That's so sad," I said, to which he nodded, not realizing that I genuinely did find it sad. Death freaked me out, mostly the idea of my family dying. This is why, as he kept telling me the sad story of his mother's upbringing, having to take care of her younger siblings without her parents, I got choked up.