An Interview: Lexi

 “Thank you for coming in for the interview today.”

“Author didn’t really give me a choice, did she?” Lexi said, leaning back in the chair and crossing her arms.

“It shouldn’t take up too much of your time. What do you like about your job?”

“It pays, and I’m good at it.”

“Ok, what got you started in it?”

“I’m good with numbers, and it sort of fell in my lap at a time when I needed something. It’s as good a job as any.”

“Some would say you should find a job you have a passion for.”

“I have a passion for not going hungry and having a house to live in,” she said with a snort.

“Would you ever consider changing jobs, and if so, what would you want to do?”

“Accounting is easy enough for me, and it pays well. I don’t see a change ever coming. Unless, of course, things don’t work out in our favor in Aleiant.” Lexi crossed her legs, arms still locked over her chest. She had a knack for being intimidating. Her face did nothing to hide any emotion she was feeling.

“What’s a hobby you have?”

“Books and flowers.”

“How did those come to be hobbies of yours?”

She pursed her lips and jiggled her legs. For the first time since she sat down here, she didn’t look angry or intimidating. She drummed her fingers against her elbow.

“Books are an escape for anything and everything. They let you live as someone else, even if only for a fleeting moment. They don’t change, they don’t argue, they just are. As they have always been.”

She dropped her leg back to the ground, and her arms loosened their grip on each other. She wasn’t relaxed per se but close. She bit her lip and glanced up toward the ceiling.

“Flowers, on the other hand. They shift, but incrementally. If they are cared for and loved, they reciprocate. They speak in hushed tones to offer support and change the intensity of their scent to suit you. I can always go sit in the garden and leave feeling relaxed and centered. On the best days and on the worst.”

“That’s an interesting perspective. Not many experience flowers like that.”

“Then they aren’t paying attention. Fairies are more attuned to it, but anyone can experience the emotions flowers can bring you.”

“What skill do you have that might be surprising?”

“I don’t know how to answer that. I’m not all that secretive.”

“That’s fair. How about a skill you’re most proud of?”

She scrunched her face up but didn’t say anything. Her fingers resumed drumming on her arm as she thought about it, and the silence was stretching into almost uncomfortable territory. The question needed an answer, though.

“I’m proud of all of them. I honed them. I practiced. I put in the time to make them worthwhile. It’s not like someone else chose most of my abilities while I sat on the sidelines.”

The silence stretched on while waiting for an actual answer. Lexi didn’t like to give them up easily, but she would have to give up something. That is what interviews are for, after all.

“Finding and maintaining accurate history,” she finally said with a scowl. “Happy?”

“You could say that. Why is that the skill you are most proud of?”

“It’s not as easy as it sounds. You can’t always count on first-hand retellings, even less than second or third-hand ones. Everyone has their own narrative. Everyone sees events through their own lens. Your experiences and choices impact what you see and how you see it.” She leaned forward slightly, hands resting on her knees as she thought of how to continue.

“If you had a person in your life that was always yelling at you and criticizing you, and I never did. The only yelling I experienced was when something horrible happened. Then you and I witness a couple arguing in a coffee shop. You might feel sympathy for the one on the receiving end while feeling like the giver was a horrible person. I might see it as the receiver has done something terrible, and these are the consequences. That is a terrible example, but it’s all I can think of at the moment.”

“I see what you are saying. So if that’s the case, how can any account be taken as real and valid?”

“A lot of thought and investigation. The more accounts you have, the more accurate a picture might be. Going back to the argument in the coffee shop. We each have our account, but then you ask someone closer. They heard the conversation, and they were both mad at someone else. Not arguing at all, but mutually angry at a third party. It’s not always perfect, but that’s what happens when you pour through history and history in the making.”

“How much time do you spend on this?”

“Obviously, I’m not chronicling every person’s life in detail. It’s major events or anything that seems like it will be. It’s paying attention to the world around you. I can’t say I sit and do this for a set amount of time. It happens as history happens, but sometimes I like to look back and gain more perspective.”

“Fair enough. Ok, next question: what does the perfect vacation look like to you?”

Lexi snorted and leaned back again. Her enthusiasm and willingness to talk visibly deflated. Talks of vacations did not stir the same passion in her as thinking about history.

“Everyone leaving me to read in the garden. There is no danger of that, though. There is always something to be done. Vacations are a dream afforded to those who don’t need to work in this city. Or those who are lawful and good and work for lawful and good people. Go ask Vanessa when the last time she took a vacation was. Take off around here, and you’ll be replaced and rendered obsolete.”

“So you’ve never taken a vacation?”

“No. Next question.”

“What about a perfect date?”

“I don’t date.”

She tipped her head to the side slightly as if studying something. Her arms weren’t any more tightly crossed than they had been before. She was completely indifferent to the question and its answer.

“Ever?”

“Too complicated. I like living alone. I like not being connected to another person in such a way. If I want someone to share my bed… it’s not too hard to find someone and have them out before the sun rises. It’s exactly how I like it.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“That’s such a bullshit response,” she snorted. “It’s exactly how I want it, and I have people around me. I just don’t have a partner. I’m not lonely; I’m happy.”

“My apologies. And that was the last question. Thank you for…”

“Yep, yep, thanks, you’re welcome, bye,” she said as she stood and stalked toward the portal to take her back.