ARAVELLA'S POINT OF VIEW
The smell of freshly printed résumés filled my nose as I clutched my folder tightly, a sour rolling of anxiety underneath my skin. I had put on the most professional outfit that I could scrounge up: navy slacks and a crisp white blouse borrowed from my mom's closet. Today had been the interview for one of the summer jobs I so desperately wanted-not for the monetary rewards that it promised, but more to distract myself before I enter college life at Van Gogh University and to face the harsh realities of Apollo Ezekiel.
APOLLO.
His name hung in my head like an unwelcomed guest. I could still feel the weight of my mother's nudges toward him, subtle yet unyielding. She had this knack of pushing me toward things under the guise of politeness, always smiling and assuming that I was going to run with it. So far, I did. But the more she spoke of this marriage, the more choked up I became. I needed that job if only to take little shreds of independence.
Big, classy company: quality standards are never compromised, for its ultimate clientèle. Being taken there straight from college, at a graduate trainee level, would've been the ultimate fantasy. I had prepared them up on my home computer and coached myself through all manner of questions to which I'd be questioned, in the hopes of making a great impression.
What I hadn't budgeted for was to find my name scribbled to the side of the sleek office building: Gray Industries.
It hit me like a cold gust of wind. Could it be his family? For so long, Clementine Gray—charming, free, never one to talk about personal matters—had made nothing of his family's wealth or businesses. The coincidence was just too uncanny to ignore, however.
I nudged open the glass doors and let the thought slide, but it lingered in the back of my mind, gnawing: Was Clementine some kind of heir to a business empire? It felt impossible to square with the good-natured boy I knew who wore a jacket over his shirt.
Inside, the lobby was glitteringly polished and modern: Smooth marble floors, abstract art lining the walls, and a reception desk that looks more like a sculpture than a work station. I checked in at the front desk and was dispatched to the eleventh floor for my interview.
I came out into a young black-haired woman wearing a bob and a sharp, no-nonsense look. "You must be Aravella Dwayne," she said as if punctuating her words with a brisk smile. "Follow me.".
We walked down bright corridors, offices with glass walls. And from every one of them, I could see people working diligently, tapping away at a keyboard, or in a conference. Efficiency was wed to largesse: everything seemed calculated so as not to appear anything less than distinguished.
At last, they took me into a small conference room. "Please wait here," she said. "The interviewer will be with you shortly.".
I nodded, attempting to groggily bring to life a courteous smile, and sat down in one of the two leather chairs across from him. It was there, sitting that way, that I started tapping the folder in my lap with fingers drumming lightly-a small harbinger of doubt.
The door creaked open, and in walked a man with a leather notebook and tablet under his arm. Tailored into a fit suit that must have fit him like a second skin, a sharp weathered look told that he knew how to run things. He said: "My name is Mr. Caldwell. I head the department for human resources.".
"Good afternoon, Ms. Dwayne. Thanks for coming in today," he started, with a practiced smile. "We've gone through your application, and we're pretty impressed with your credentials. Let's get started."
The interview went all right, but somehow I couldn't keep my strange undertone of thoughts. While listening to what my qualifications and goals were, I was asking more and more about the connection between Clementine and this company.
Interestingly, at the tail-end of the interview was the usual line that Mr. Caldwell gave me: "We'll review your application further and contact you soon. Expect a call in the next few days."
He thanked me, we shook hands, and I turned to leave the room, both relieved and unsettled. I walked down the hallway toward the elevator; a glimpse of one of the glass office doors caught my eye. The nameplate beside it read: C. Gray
My heart skipped a beat. C. Gray… Was it really Clementine's father?
Then I merely climbed into the elevator down, folding my arms tightly over my folder, wondering at the turmoil stirring in my head - a mix of disbelief, of curiosity, and something else, something kind of unsettling. Clementine always seemed a world away from this side of wealth and business. How could it all be his empire and he say not one word?
Hmmmm...
AT HOME
I walked into a house that was already drenched in scent of baked pastries: softest leading to yet another conversation my mom would have about Apollo. Already, I could hear her cheerful humming coming from the kitchen, and my stomach tensed in expectation of what was awaiting me.
"How was it, sweetheart?" she shouted once I opened the door, "How was the interview?"
"It went well," I said, putting down my bag. "They said they'll call me soon."
"That's great!" she beamed. Then, as I had expected her to, she added casually, "Speaking of calls, Apollo sent a message today. He wanted to know if you were free this weekend."
I did have an urge to groan. "Mom, I told you, I'm not interested in spending time with him."
She sighed, a tone delicate yet insistent. "Ara, I know you're being cautious, but Apollo's family has always been generous to us in everything. The match is well, it's the best. You will see that for yourself, though".
Her words strangled me like a net I was powerless to be otherwise tangled in. No matter how I insisted that I understood things were not all right, she would respond soothingly, with insistence, as if it was some great favor she was doing me by pushing me into a future I did not want to go into.
"Mom, I just need to find a job first before college," I said, trying to steer the conversation away from Apollo.
"You can work," she said, but her smile never dimmed. But these opportunities don't blow into town very often, sweetie. Just meet him for dinner-it's just one night.
Frustration welled up within me; this was the same feeling - that she didn't understand why she couldn't. She was giving me this life, but she didn't realize why I didn't want that. I wanted my own life, regardless of the mistakes I would make.
That evening, sitting on the porch, trying to clear my head. My phone was buzzing in my pocket. I unlocked the screen and my heart did stop as I saw the name: Clementine Gray.
Clem: Hey Vella, I heard you had a big interview today. How did it go?
I looked at the text, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Should I ask him about his company? Should I tell him what I thought about his family?
After a moment, I thought to keep it simple.
Me: Went okay. Just waiting to hear back now.
His reply came almost instantly.
Clem: That's great. Fingers crossed for you. Caspian told me about it, anyway. If you are free, let me know, we can have a coffee together if you want, Vella.
A small smile pulled at my lips, against my will. For a fleeting instant, all that weight of everything: Apollo, my mom, expectations—that all shrunk to the side.
Me: Maybe. We'll see.
I put the phone away with a thought lingering in my head. What else didn't I know about Clementine Gray? It was an idea that thrilled and unsettled me at the very same time. Something within me told me that if I came to uncover the truth, it would muddle everything in ways I could never possibly predict.
Yet a part of me wanted to dive in-without the questions. If Clementine did have a secret, I had to understand it.
___________
The days that followed seemed to creep on infinitely. Every time my phone buzzed, I was ready to scram for the call from Gray Industries. Actually, it was my mom asking about Apollo, or Dania and Rafael checking in to see if I had made plans for celebrating.
Even messages from Clementine came in casually, as if nothing has changed. As if the name Gray Industries wasn't looming over me like a puzzle I couldn't solve. I wanted to ask him directly-Is your father part of this company?- but it felt too bold, too intrusive.
I was besotted on Thursday afternoon and could not resist myself anymore. I began putting Gray Industries in every search bar I could find and reading articles of the founders, executives, and history. The same name kept coming up over and over: Cassius Gray, this elusive CEO with a knack for business sense and ruthless ambition.
I never saw him interviewed on TV; only photos exist, mostly at charity dinners or when he attended some top-level business conference. One picture made my breath catch. Cassius Gray standing beside a young boy, maybe twelve years old, wearing a lopsided grin and a too-large jacket.
It's him!
I would have imagined that the confirmation would have hit much harder than it did. I had put my phone aside and my mind ran a thousand circles, questioning. Why hadn't Clementine said anything about his father to him? Why pretend to be part of them, like any other normal guy at school, when he was the son of one of the richest businessmen in the country?
It wasn't quite right. Maybe it fit. Maybe things had always been this way with Clementine-to never latch on to her but to sidestep the real issues and steer things shallow than they need to be. I just hadn't known how many layers to hide.
I hadn't even really processed what was going on when my phone beeped again-this time a call. My heart thudded harder as I opened my mouth to speak.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is this Aravella Dwayne?" The voice was clear and businesslike - someone from Gray Industries.
"Yes, this is she," I said, sitting up a little.
"Thanks for coming in earlier this week. We're happy to offer you a summer position in our marketing department."
My heart swelled for one beat— I got the job! —before sank into the gut feeling I knew was coming. I was about to work for Clementine's father.
"We'll email over the specifics," the voice continued. "Can you please confirm your start date by the end of the week?"
"Thanks," I rasped, my voice coming out like sandpaper. "I'll confirm soon.".
The call ended. I was in some kind of daze. I should be excited that I got the job, but somehow and strangely, my mind rolls into deeper thoughts:
Does Clementine find out that I was working at his father's company?
Did he already know?
And what would he say if I keep it from him?
No, I'm being too personal... I hate myself now.