Let me show you how I see

The sound of my alarm awoke me, the radio blasting a Taylor Swift song that I wasn’t familiar with. I groaned and slammed the top of the clock, turning it off with a loud click. I stiffly rolled out of bed and stood.
Looking down, I noticed I was wearing jeans.
“The fuck?” I muttered, stripping off the clothes from the night before. I didn’t even remember going to bed. Somewhat like the day before, I stomped into the kitchen in only underwear. I poured myself a bowl of cornflakes and a glass of orange juice. I slapped the coffee maker on, popped an aspirin, then went to sit at my breakfast bar to read the morning news. Every few moments my head would throb angrily.
“I must have had a lot to drink. This is killer.” I moaned, rubbing the back of my neck. After eating breakfast, I showered and got dressed to go to work. It was exciting, putting on a business-like dress overcoat get up, not to mention attaching my new I.D. tag to the bottom of my blazer. I packed a suitcase of things I knew I would want in my office that day, along with a briefcase for files and such.

When I made it out of my loft I was glad to see that my car was still parked, unharmed, in the garage. The drive to the main building was about thirty minutes, and I left early enough to grab a coffee and miss traffic. Today, I thought, is going to be fantastic. I was already on a roll, minus the small headache that still lingered from however many beers I had downed the night before.
I strolled in the headquarters sporting a cheesy grin and a confident walk.
“Welcome to the team, Miss Rousseau.” Sherrie greeted, smiling brightly at me. “Here are your papers, and, here’s the key to your office in case you misplace your badge. You’re right across from Mr. Shero, and, if you need any kind of amenities just let me know. We’ll supply any furniture or supplies, so, don’t worry about anything.” I took the files from her, along with my new key, which, looked incredibly shiny and new. She might as well have handed me a box of diamonds.
“Thank you very much, Mademoiselle.” I replied happily. I had the urge to jump up and down
“Good luck.” She added, grinning. I gave her a dorky thumbs up and made my way to the elevators I had been so nervous about entering not long before.

My office was 12D, and one of its walls was just a huge window, along with two shelves, a desk, a computer and printer, office supplies, some bins, a clock, and a chair. It was plain and pretty empty, but, I was too excited to notice. I would decorate it soon enough.
I sat down in my new seat, making a little spin to get the feel of it. I started to unpack some of my things, like, a photograph of my family, a pen holder, a few more pictures of family and friends, a hockey puck signed by Mario Lemieux from when I was young, a few binders, some books, air spray, and a couple c.d.’s. I was putting up my framed degrees when there was a soft knock on the door.
“Come on in.” I called out, struggling to reach a nail on the wall.
“Well now. You’re getting settled pretty fast, eh?” A cheery voice said. I turned around to see Ray, looking around the room.
“It still needs a lot of work, but, yes.” I replied, laughing.
“Anyway, I was here remind you our next game is in two days, and, Dan and I, including you, will be having a meeting tomorrow on the lineup plans based on yesterday’s practice.” He said while glancing at one of my pictures.
“Gotcha.” I nodded, making sure the frame I had just hung was straight.
“So, how was your first drink with the team? Or, at least, part of the team.” He asked, smiling.
“Oh, it was fun. The boys found out pretty easily that I’m a lightweight, and, let me tell you, they thought it was hilarious.” I replied, shaking my head and sighing.
“Marc-Andre actually called me a few minutes ago asking if you made it to work alive. Was it really that bad?”
“Like I said, I had a great time, from the bits I can remember.” I reassured him, straightening up some of the papers Sherrie had given me at the front. They included a bunch of different registry forms and line-up sheets, tabbed with different colors. The woman was crazy organized.
“Well, I really just came to see how you were settling in and such. I’ll be right across the hall if you need anything.” Ray said, patting my shoulder.
“Yes sir. Merci.” I put my hand out to shake his, but, he just laughed and slapped it.
“Welcome to the team, kid. It’s great to have ya.”

The rest of the day was basically the same, I continued putting together my filing cabinets and décor. I also decided after a while that the far right wall was much too empty, and, began looking for a couch to take up some space, along with a few lamps and a side table. It wasn’t real work, not yet. But, I was happy, of course. I left around five, hoping I could avoid most of the traffic through the main district. I was busy singing along to the radio when my cell phone started ringing. Shit. My mother.
Now, my mother is a kind, beautiful person. She’s decently tall, with thick, wavy, salt and pepper blonde hair, with perfectly aged olive skin and crow’s feet around her happy green eyes. And, though she may be all these things, she is not patient, and, is incredibly dramatic. As soon as I saw that it was her calling I wanted to kick myself. I hadn’t told her about the job yet, or, even that I had taken the interview. By now it would be on Sports Center that the penguins had a new assistant manager, and good lord, she would have hell to pay.
“Bonjour Maman.” I answered weakly, bracing myself for the worst.
“Y at-il quelque chose que vous voulez me dire?” Is there something you want to tell me? My mother asked, her voice high and irritated.
“Oh, non. Rien de bien.” Oh, no. Nothing really. I replied quietly, my muscles tensing up.
“On pourrait penser qu'une fille serait dire à sa mère qu'elle est la nouvelledirectrice adjointe pour certains équipe de hockey!” You’d think that a girl would tell her mother that she’s the new assistant manager for some hockey team! She shrieked in my ear. I could just imagine her face, all, shrewd up and angry.
“Je suis désolé maman. J'ai été très occupé et ....” I’m sorry mom. I’ve just been busy and… I pleaded, sinking a little lower in my seat. It was hard to drive with a French woman squealing at you through the phone.
“Je ne m'inquiète pas si vous avez été très occupé, méchante enfant! Vous devriez me dire des choses!” I don’t care if you’ve been busy, naughty child! You should tell me things! She babbled. I could tell she was cooking, in particular, stirring something, because whatever it was, was being beaten to death in a glass bowl.
“Hey, donner que de retour!” Hey, give that back! I heard her yell, then, things got quiet for a moment.
“Bonjour, l'amour! Félicitations!” Hello love! Congratulations! My father said into the phone. You could hear the smile on his face. My father, like my mother, is also an incredible individual. He is tall, with jet black hair that has a few grays, pale, neatly aged, and light blue eyes. But, much unlike my mother, he has unbelievable patience and a soft heart.
“Hey papa. Je vous remercie.” Hey Dad. Thank you. I replied, smiling. I was instantly calmed by his voice, my mother’s anger rolling right off me.

By the time I got home, I had dealt with talking to my mother, my father, and my two younger twin brothers. They kept me entertained through the traffic that I ended up in the middle of, asking me silly questions about certain details of the job. I hadn’t realized how exhausted I was until I pulled off my shoes, stripped off my work clothes, and threw myself on the couch with a pack of redvines. I fell asleep around eleven, after finishing last minute stuff for work and a Gilmore Girls marathon.