The Definition of Fate

Chapter 19

The path from you extending,
I could not see its course--
for the closer to you I was getting,
the further from you I'd walked.

For I was moving in a circle,

not a line as I had thought--

the steps I took away from you,
were taking me towards.

- Lang Leav

"The Kardashians. I have to write an article about the freaking Kardashians." I grip the edge of my laptop and resist the urge to hurl it across the room.

"You did sign up for Lifestyle and Entertainment," Chloe, ever helpful, reminds me from her position slouched on the couch.

"Yeah, I was thinking I'd get to go to cool art exhibits and write about new charities and stuff. Not celebrities." I wrinkle my nose. I've never really seen the appeal of using journalism to stalk the rich, beautiful, and famous.

"Well, one of them's visiting Columbus, so it makes sense." Chloe shrugs. "You're lucky Halle gave it to you; it's a pretty big story."

I crush my face beneath my hands--great, just what I need. More pressure. Ever since my article about the literacy program, I've felt like a one hit wonder. That article ended up being on the cover of the lifestyle page and Mr. Fitzpatrick loved it, but in the month since, I haven't been able to live up to it. The stress is getting to me.

"I know. That's why I'm researching their family tree, so if I have to ask any questions I won't sound like a grandma." I glare at the computer screen, the Kardashians' pictures pasted across it. There are way too many k's.

"Why are you even doing work right now? It's a Sunday, and it's still summer. We should be having a picnic or a barbecue or fireworks or something," Chloe exclaims from her position on the couch, watching a Netflix documentary.

I snort. "You're one to talk."

"Seriously, though. Work on a Sunday? What's going on?"
"Nothing," I snap, rubbing my forehead and glaring at the screen.

"Rachel."

"I'm serious. Nothing's going on."

I can't tell her the truth--that Halle and Mr. Fitzpatrick have been putting pressure on me to turn out more articles at a higher caliber, that I'm afraid I won't be able to live up to their demands, that nothing I do will be enough for them. That I'm not good enough. I have too much pride to admit that to someone like Chloe who not only succeeds but excels in all she does.

I feel her eyes on me, but I focus on the computer screen. This article has to prove that I'm a versatile journalist, capable of writing about anything. Maybe I can convince myself while I'm at it.

Tense silence settles between Chloe and me, and I wish I could tell her how I feel. Every time I complain, however, she reminds me of how great my job is and how lucky I am to have it and then I feel guilty. She got me this job and I want to make her proud. I want to prove to her that I'm worthy of her recommendation, but I feel like I'm failing instead.

"Hey, ladies!" The door rattles open and Hina pops in, carrying a stack of boxes that towers over her. "Could you guys give me a hand?"

Chloe and I both jump up and grab the boxes from her hands, depositing them on the kitchen table. The boxes are ancient and the words faded, relics from another era.

"What's all this?" I ask her.

"These are vintage board games!" Hina declares, eyes curving in a smile. "Clue, Monopoly, Scrabble, chess. My Hinadventure today was to this tiny little antique shop, and they'd just gotten all of these old games and were selling them for so cheap. Please, tell me you like board games."