Explaining that I was not controlling.
Not jealous.
Not threatened.
The original issue disappeared.
Petra said she would try to be more aware of time.
I accepted that as progress.
Nothing changed.
December was worse.
Damon bought a new house in Fremont and began renovating it.
That gave Petra endless reasons to stop by.
Paint.
Lighting.
Furniture.
Art.
Kitchen fixtures.
Cabinet pulls.
I sometimes joked that she was designing a second house for free.
She laughed.
I stopped laughing before she did.
On Christmas Eve, she received a text at eleven thirty.
I happened to be standing next to her.
Damon.
Merry Christmas, P. Hope tomorrow isn’t too crazy.
She replied.
Merry Christmas. You too. Don’t burn dinner again.
Harmless.
Completely harmless.
Still, I felt something.
Not jealousy exactly.
Displacement.
He knew jokes about her life.
She knew jokes about his.
There was a texture to their friendship now.
A shared rhythm.
I began wondering how much of Petra’s daily life happened in conversations I never heard about.
Then I hated myself for wondering.
January changed everything professionally.
Ford Gallagher called me into his office on a Tuesday afternoon.
Ford was fifty-eight and had been at Meridian for twenty-two years.
Gray hair.
Expensive but boring suits.
The kind of person who could look at a balance sheet for thirty seconds and ask the one question everyone else had missed.
He closed his office door.
“Singapore.”
I sat down.
“What about it?”
“We’re expanding.”
Meridian had been building its Asia-Pacific operation for several years, but the new plan was significantly more ambitious.
Regional research team.
Cross-market strategy.
Institutional coverage.
Seven analysts eventually.
Potential expansion to Hong Kong and Sydney relationships.
Ford wanted someone from Seattle to lead the initial build.
“You’re on the list.”
“What list?”
“The short one.”
I tried not to react.
“What does it involve?”
“Three-year initial assignment. Review after twenty-four months. Housing allowance. Relocation. Tax support. Travel.”
“Title?”
“Regional Director of Market Analysis.”
I stared at him.
That was two levels above where I currently sat.
“Compensation?”
Ford told me.
I actually thought he had misspoken.
He had not.
“This is real?”
“Yes.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’ve been doing the work above your title for eighteen months.”
I leaned back.
“When would you need an answer?”
“One week.”
“That’s fast.”
“So is Asia.”
I laughed.
Ford became serious.
“Eli.”
“Yeah?”
“This is one of those jobs.”
I knew what he meant.
Careers contain good moves.
Then there are inflection points.
Positions that change the trajectory of everything after them.
“I need to talk to Petra.”
“Obviously.”
I went home almost excited enough to forget everything else.
Petra was making salad.
I placed the documents on the kitchen table.
“What’s that?”
“Potentially something big.”
I told her.
Role.
Money.