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centers this evening. So I’d driven straight home from work and changed into a pair of stonewashed jeans and a black T-shirt. Now, I was walking up her classic brick walkway, preparing to ring the doorbell. She must have seen me pull up, though, because she opened the door without delay.
    “Hey, girl,” she said, reaching out to hug me. We hadn’t seen each other in maybe a couple of weeks, so I was elated to see her as well.
    “Hey, how’s it going?” I asked, embracing her.
    “You know, things really couldn’t be better, Anise,” she said with no hesitation, because she really was experiencing a very joyous time in her life. She’d married Marc about a year ago, and he’d proven to be the most caring husband and stepfather I knew. She was truly living her life to the fullest, and it filled my heart to see her so happy. Life hadn’t been the greatest when she was marriedto her first husband, so this made her even more appreciative of Marc.
    “I’m so glad to hear that everything is going so well for you,” I told her. “I wish I could say the same.”
    I hated always having such a woe-is-me sort of attitude whenever I spent time with Monica, but I couldn’t help it. I just couldn’t seem to find a positive way toward dealing with my problems.
    “Why? What’s going on?” she asked, giving me her full attention.
    “What isn’t? My marriage is still falling apart, and I’m pretty sure there’s going to be extreme drama at work in the near future.”
    “Don’t tell me they’re trying to keep you from making manager again?”
    “That’s exactly what they’re trying to do, and I’m worried about it because I’m not going to sit back and take it this time.”
    “Wait a minute. I want to hear the details regarding this, so let’s go sit out on the patio,” Monica said.
    “That’s fine.”
    “Do you want something to drink?” she asked, opening the refrigerator.
    “I’ll take some lemonade if you have it.”
    “We don’t have any that’s fresh-squeezed, but we do have some cans of Country Time.”
    “That’s fine with me.”
    Monica grabbed two cans of pink lemonade, pulled two glass mugs from one of the cupboards and filled them with ice from the refrigerator’s built-in ice dispenser. I scanned the recently remodeled kitchen, which was beautiful, but I couldn’t help but wonder how we could be such close friends, see eye to eye on almost every social and personal issue, but have vastly different tastes in decorating. I was modern with a flair for anything that was contemporary, but she was strictly traditional. I loved exquisite leather, but she loved cloth of almost any texture. She purchased a ton of cherry wood pieces, but each of my wooden pieces showcased the new-washed look.
    But no two people were the same, and that’s what made the world a lot more interesting.
    We strolled through the double-glass patio doors, sat our drinks down on a small table, and positioned our bodies on two matching chaises.
    “So now. What exactly is Reed Meyers up to this time?” Monica asked.
    “You remember that HR manager’s position they didn’t give me six months ago, right?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Well, Jason has already given his notice and is leaving the company.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding? After only being a manager for six months?”
    “Yep. So I took yesterday and today thinking about it, and figured I would go in and talk to Jim about applying for it again.”
    “And what did he say?”
    “Girl, he was so discouraging and had the audacity to say that the reason I work so well with the shop people is because my parents worked in a factory environment. He actually said that’s why I can relate to them.”
    “That’s ridiculous.”
    “Don’t I know it.”
    “Well, it’s either the fact that he doesn’t know any better or that he flat out believes he can make whatever racist comment he wants to. But either way, he has no right talking to you like that, nor does he have