Bend

 

“Your written feedback on my case presentations keeps saying, ‘Good, not great.’ Which is not good.”

“Nor great.” As they waited for their lunch orders at the white tablecloth restaurant, Eugenia Smalls Murphy, Truly’s assigned mentor, regarded her mentee with amusement. Upon first meeting earlier that week, the sexagenarian insisted that everyone called her Smurf, an amalgamation of her two last names, but Truly could not bring herself to do so. Yet. Like her method with her parents-in-law, Truly avoided calling her mentor anything directly, and if necessary to address her indirectly, only gestured in Smurf’s direction.

“What would make my proposals better?” Truly asked.

Smurf tented her hands on the table. She stared past Truly’s face for so long without a verbal response that Truly had to turn to see what Smurf was looking at. The kitchen door. Finally, it opened, and their server Hayden carried their entrees to their table.

Truly thanked the server politely for the food, but Smurf kept her eyes on Hayden’s through every orchestrated motion. 

Truly watched as Hayden appreciated the appreciation, in a manner that suggested Smurf had appreciated Hayden’s service before.

Plates on table, water glasses filled, and cloth napkin generously placed on Smurf’s warm lap, Hayden could find no other reason to linger. With one look back to assure Smurf’s regard remained intact, the server finally returned to the kitchen.

 

“You have to want it.”

For a moment, mesmerized by the nonverbal interplay that she was not sure had been appropriate for a public setting, Truly had forgotten that she asked a question. “Want what?”

Smurf adjusted her wedding band and sliced into the filet in the center of her ceramic plate. “Whatever it is,” she glanced at Hayden pretending not to ogle her from the bar, “go after it. All of your proposals this week followed the rules.”

“You want me to break the rules?”

With her prey locked in her sight, Smurf ate the flesh off her fork. “Bend them, as far as you can.”