Call and Answer

“Hello?” the groggy voice answered. I heard a muffled yawn before replying.

“Hey Jen. It’s me.”

“Oh my God, Kayla. Why the hell are you calling me?”

“…what?” I asked, a little put off by her tone.

“You know that I can’t fall back asleep after I’ve woken up.” Confused, I turned to look at my alarm clock. 12:48. Oops.

“Gosh, I am so sorry. But, now that you’re up…”

“Goodbye, Kayla.”

Well, that was a complete waste of time. I briefly considered calling my other best friend, but he hasn't really been himself for a while. He's been too depressed ever since his girlfriend moved to even listen to me. Plus, I decided that if I was actually going to be able to get to work on time, I would need a few hours of sleep too. I stumbled into my bedroom and pulled off my jeans before diving into the warm covers.

“Goooood morning listeners! DJ Tabby here with the greatest wake-up songs on the charts. Let’s start things off with a little Katy Perry…”

I groaned and slammed my hand on my alarm clock’s snooze button. Jenna may not be able to fall back asleep after waking, but I was an expert at it. Eight glorious minutes went by before Miley Cyrus’s “Party in the USA” rang throughout my bedroom. “Why do they play such annoying music in the morning…” I grumbled before rolling out of bed. I sat for a few minutes, letting my eyes adjust to the sunlight pouring in my windows. I contemplated falling back down into a nice slumber, but knew that if I wanted to keep my job, I needed to get a move on. I staggered into my closet, throwing on the first things I could find. I then proceeded to make my way into the kitchen and stuff a strawberry Pop Tart into my toaster. I think I need to start buying “real food.” When I started feeling more awake, and could actually open my eyes without feeling blinded, I took a look at my ensemble in the mirror. Unfortunately, my sleepy state this morning didn’t have the best taste. I ran back into my closet to find a top that was a little more professional than the bright orange one I currently had on. Brushing a comb through my hair and swiping on some mascara and lip gloss, I grabbed my Pop Tart and headed out the door.

Mondays are the worst. Every other day of the week, I wake up with enough time to make myself completely presentable, but everyone in my office knows that on Mondays I can’t be held responsible for how I look. I am definitely not a morning person. Come to think of it, I’m not really a night owl, either. I like nothing more than crawling into my fluffy bed with a good book around 10:30. On the weekends, my friends liked to drag me out until the wee hours of the morning, knowing that they would interrupt my nighttime ritual. But they don’t really care. Jenna always tells me that I need a life. However, Jenna’s got enough “life” for the both of us. While afternoons are my high point of the day, she’s energetic for the full 24 hours. She could stay out late and still come to work at 8 AM the next day. And she would come in at 8 AM the next day looking completely primped and polished. I have no idea how she does it. At 8 AM! I ended the little tirade in my head as the elevator arrived at my office floor. Saying a quick hello to the co-workers I passed, I reached my cubicle and immediately sent the intern for hot chocolate. I felt a little bad as I barked my order to the young man, but even the interns know not to take what I say in the mornings personally. Gosh, I'm hopeless.

The elevator dinged once more, and I looked up to see Jenna walking in. The shine that usually radiated from her was a little dimmed, probably from my waking at midnight. But even though she hadn’t gotten the best sleep last night, she still looked a thousand times better than I ever could. She made a beeline for my desk immediately after checking reception for messages. I shrunk back a little in my seat, knowing that our conversation probably wouldn’t be a happy social call.

“What. Were. You. Thinking.” she said, taking one step closer to me with each word.

“Ahh, I’m sorry, Jen. I didn’t realize how late it was, and I really needed your advice. This is one huuuuge piece of gossip.” I stifled a laugh as her ears perked up at my last word. Jenna is always a sucker for news.

Turning to walk away, she issued a small demand before leaving, “I have to go meet with Angie, but you better be on IM when I get done.”

Angie was the editor of Mascara magazine. Jenna was the assistant editor. Most of her job was spent locked up in Angie’s office, holding meetings in the conference room, or sneakily chatting with me at my desk. I don’t really know why Angie gave her such an extraordinary office of her own, since she spends so much time running around. But, if you’ve got a fancy title, you need a big, fancy office to go with it I suppose. Anyway, Jenna is my best friend. She’s also my boss. Okay, yes, the editor is technically “in charge,” but Angie mostly stayed in her office on the phone. She left it to Jenna to make sure that all of us journalists were getting our jobs done. When Jenna got promoted, I was a little afraid of how our work relationship would turn out. Sure, I was a little jealous, but Jenna had been working for Mascara much longer than I had, and she was amazing at her job. It was only common sense that she get the coveted “assistant editor” position. But anyway, it wasn’t as awkward as I thought it was going to be. We still had time for our gossip sessions, and she never yelled at me like a boss normally might. Of course, she never had reason to yell at me. Not to brag, but I was a great journalist. I always turned my stories in on time, and I always put 110% into everything I wrote. If I was a bad employee, maybe things with Jenna and I would have gotten tense, but I wasn’t. She always jokes about how one day Angie will realize what a great job I’m doing, and promote me to Jenna’s position. I always laugh it off, but secretly, I hope that actually happens someday. Not that Jenna isn’t doing a great job as assistant editor, but I can’t see myself spending my entire life writing about beauty products and celebrity fashion trends. I love my job, and it’s exactly what I see myself doing and where I want to be. Right now. But I also don’t want to limit myself to being “just a journalist” for the remainder of my life.

However, I don’t see Jenna getting fired anytime soon, so I’ll have to look for a different step up. Maybe once Angie leaves, Jenna will take over and make me her right hand. Gosh, we could make this magazine great. Just then, I was snapped out of my daydream by the incredibly loud sound of an IM coming from my computer. My cheeks instantly flushed as I quickly shut off my computer speakers and directed my attention to the screen.

jaylei: hey heeeey.

jaylei: whoa, nice speakers. way 2 blow ur non-working cover. ill have 2 yell atchu later.

jaylei: now, what was so important last nite that you had 2 interrupt my precious z’s?

I sighed and realized that I’d have to tell her my whole shameful story. Why did I even want to tell her again? Oh, right. The whole “advice” thing. Dang myself for never being able to come up with an answer on my own.

mickey: ugh, not here. wanna grab lunch in a couple hours? then i’ll let you in on the whole sordid affair.

jaylei: ooh, sounds juicy. count me in.