I’ll drink to that | Amanda and Eric
royisms:
At the early age of twenty years old, Amanda Roy had walked into her father’s office and discovered the world of politics; she’d had as many brushes with it as high school and college had allowed, always discussing the hottest topics over the table with her parents and rallying for her favorite candida even before she was allowed to vote, but Washington D.C. was the big leagues, she came to discover. With her idealistic personality and head full of strong, defined values, she’d hoped to take the world by storm (her parents had always said you can be anything you want) - the real world was way more cruel than she had hoped for, however, and she found herself stuck in an office with men and women who barely noticed her existence for far too long.
She did make many connections during her years as an assistant for various campaign and crisis managers, and learned to love the dirty work as well. One of the people she met through her father was Eric, over hiss thirties, a flamboyant expression of knowledge always seemed to adorne his face. Amanda would deny it everytime, to herself even, but the older man was certinaly her first political crush - there mere thought of it made her laugh now, years later, as she made her way downtown to meet him for a drink. Her phone rung as soon as she stepped through the hotel doors - fuck. “Amanda Roy,” she picked up quickly, balancing her purse and coat in one arm as she pinned her mobile with the oppoiste shoulder against her face. “Yes– I actually just left the office and don’t have that on me– can I call you tomorrow first thing? Ah, yes, thank you, yes,” she hung up as she finally made it to the bar. He was too patient with her sometimes, she wondered why that was. “I’m so sorry, the office was a mess,” she stressed, tossing her belonging on the next stool, phone sitting on the counter just in case. “Thank you,” she added when she saw he had ordered her wine already. He’d learned her taste in beverages as well, how poetic. “Have you been here long? How was your day?”
Something happens with age.You become more forgiving, losing your age to the sands of time and grinding down to a more relaxed and open person. After all it was so draining to be angry, on edge or stressed all the time and so like a defense mechanism you find that the things that once irked you would wash away for the sake of sanity. Perhaps a younger more arrogant Eric would have left before Amanda could turn up late or give her an earful, but he simply sat with a gentle smile on his lips, looking more like he was dotting on her than anything. As he spoke to her, the lawyer’s voice was a low, soft rumble. “Don’t apologies for doing your job, it’s part of the deal. And you’re good at it anyhow.”
“It was a little while, but I had good whiskey for company. And my day...was busy, like most.” He turned to look ahead of them, a dizzying number of bottles lining the back of the bar. Their various sizes, shapes and colours splayed like a new-age art installation, the lights bouncing off them and producing a kaleidoscope on Eric’s skin.
His sharp sea-like pupils, slipped to glance at Amanda’s phone and then her. “You know when I first started law, my mentor at the time told me. Eric, if you want to make it, learn when your phone is your friend and when it’s your enemy. He was right. It’s important to have work time and self time, they’ll be okay without you for a while.”
“Spend some time with me.”