I started my internship in late May and went till August. It was the summer of 2015 and I was a finance intern at a very large non-profit organization in Washington DC with branches in nearly every state in the country. I answered to the VP of finance, the controller of the accounting department, and my accounts receivable director. I remember waking up in the mornings…it was always difficult.
I would take the train down to DC every morning. Man did I hate those train rides. The thought of you was constant. I didn’t look at the man sitting in front me. I didn’t pay attention to his light grey suit, or the little bit of razor stubble he left under his chin. I looked through him and everyone else and simply wondered where you went.
I would get to the office every morning around nine. Immediately, the trip to the bathroom to perfectly tuck in my wrinkled button down was taken. My directors didn’t get in until 10:30 and entrusted me with data entry work for the mean time. While tapping away at the keyboard, I thought about how you could have persuaded me. I thought about what would have happened if we just we went on.
I would sit there trying to balance these spreadsheets on excel. I used to hope that the account receivable reports for the month end were all correct. I would sit there calling members so I could guide them through the financial process of the organization. I would sit through the finance team conferences. But I was only really wondering where you went. I was wondering why every morning I woke up with such a genuine and innocent desire to just see you.
I used to get off work at four in the afternoon, and I remember how hot it used to be. The summers in The District were relentless. That never stopped the K-street lobbyists however. I would always see them in their tailored suits. What they wore just looked a lot more expensive than what the people walking around them were wearing. They looked as if they were too busy to be bothered by the red light preventing them from crossing the street. After all, they were most likely on their way to meet with a congressman to explain to him why a “fluid legal environment” was needed to keep investments healthy.
I would go to the bathroom to tuck in my button down one last time before the train ride back home. I used to check my phone in the elevator to see if I had any notifications from you, but that was never the case. I would sit on the train and look at the faces of the people sitting around me and wonder if they were hopelessly waiting on someone as well.
I remember all the times when the thought of you defeated me. I used to take random newspapers on the metro and write on them. I would write about how hard it was to do simple things, like figuring out a mail merge, because I was thinking about why your snapchat score kept rising even though I had none from you. I would get off the train at around 5 in the afternoon to meet my step father at his office building so we could go home together.
I never really spoke much in those car rides back home, and I wonder what he thought I was thinking. I think he thought I was tired from work, but that was far from the truth. I just kept it quiet. My thoughts, my feelings, I just kept them quiet. It was only when I got home and after devoting an hour or two of wallowing in self-pity that I would go downstairs to eat dinner with my parents before heading out for the night. I would chill with my friends and come back home only to wonder again where it is that you went.