Resentment - (18+)

C14

MIA

A full two weeks go by without me or Justin addressing one another. I've learned that he works between the hours of six and four-Where? I don't know-so I do my best to set my alarm for eight. At two, I make sure I'm on my way to a café or a park to fill out a job application, and I try not to come home until nine so I can sleep until eight and do it all over again.

The few times that we've run into each other in the kitchen or the living room, we're avoiding looking directly at each other, and whenever we cook, we don't share. Unlike Eric who cooks enough for all three of us whenever he makes a meal, when I cook, it's just for me (I do take some to Eric at Sea of Ink on his lunch break) and when Justin cooks, it's just for him.

I'm hoping to make it through this arrangement until I get a job and save up enough money so I can move out. And from the prices I've seen on condos and houses here, it would take double what I currently have in my savings to get someplace decent, so it may take me quite a while to get to that point.

When my alarm goes off on Wednesday morning, I quickly fill out my final online application for an art gallery and decide to attempt a more personal approach for the day.

Armed with a map of the entertainment district and a few printouts of my resume, I slip into the city and pull out the list of galleries that didn't have applications directly on their website.

I walk half a mile to the first gallery-Le Soire Le Blanc, and tuck my map into my purse. I take a deep breath and smile as I open the door.

"May I help you with something, Miss?" A woman dressed in black, immediately greets me from behind a podium.

"Yes, I'm Mia Gray." I extend my hand. "I was hoping to see the lead collector. I have a few questions."She doesn't make a move to shake my hand at all. Her eyes travel up and down my body, making me question whether I made the right decision in wearing black slacks, a pink button down and blazer, and matching ballet flats.

"You were saying, Miss?" She purses her lips. "We don't entertain or allow solicitors here, if that's what you're here for."

I square my shoulders under her disdainful stare and keep my smile on full display. "I'm not selling anything," I say, trying to keep my resolve. "I'm actually new to the city and I'm searching for some place to further my art career. I'm wondering if you all were looking for a curator, or an intern? I'm open to anything."

She blinks.

"I have my resume here, if you want to take a look." I pull it out of my bag and hold it out for her, but she doesn't take it.

Instead, she calls over her shoulder. "Mr. Shaw! Mr. Shaw, can you come down here, please?"

Within seconds, a grey haired man in an impeccable blue suit descends the spiral staircase, looking back and forth between us both.

"Yes, Miss Lockwood?"

"This..." She shakes her head and points at me. "This person came wandering in from the street, asking about a job. Do we have a 'Now Hiring' sign on our front window that I don't know about?"

"Not that I know of." He smiles. "No, we don't."

"Do we have a Job Listing Page on our website with open positions? And if we do, does it say, 'Feel free to come on in wearing department store clothing, and thrusting your ineptitude upon us in the middle of our lunch?"

"No." He smirks, crossing his arms. "We don't have that either."

"So..." She narrows her eyes at me and taps her lip, stepping toward the door. "What do you think we would tell someone who just wandered in from the street with an outdated and unimpressive resume? Do you think we should tell her to come back when we're actually hiring? When she's done her research? Or do you think we should just say nothing and simply hold the door for her to figure it out?"