Falling for my fake boyfriend

6 - Light at the end of the tunnel

My name is Lily Parker and I am a rising automotive engineer in one of the best engineering and design programs in the country. That’s my affirmation for the day, done.

The Vauxhall building is huge. It’s comparable to a city within an obnoxiously tall building and it also has a small warehouse attached. 

Of course the actual car factory is not here, though I was getting really excited about the upcoming visit that has been announced there for my team. Here, in the Vauxhall building in the city is where the magic happens, where engineers like me, or not like me but slightly more senior and that people actually listen to, come up with the concept and technical stuff for the factory to build. It’s amazing, really, and now that I am faced with the possibility of being kicked out, I see that this is my dream. Was my dream. No matter how ruthless the environment might be. I like it here. Liked it here.

The Vauxhall building hosts more than one hundred interns like me, but I often felt like there were several billion of us, all scurrying around to do the best job that we can and make the heads of our departments notice us and our brilliant minds.

There are also dozens of supervisors, head engineers, and department directors, not to mention the fat cats in the offices at the top, where I only traveled if I was meeting Jessie for a quick lunch by her desk. The people up there, the ones that never get their proverbial hands dirty by actually doing the work, those are the likes of Adam Davies. 

Sure, he’s extremely involved in the engineering and design of the engine for the new flagship sports car that Vauxhall wants to launch, but ultimately, he’s one of them at the top.

I’m basically trying to convince myself of the odds of me having the misfortune of personally interacting with Adam Davies again after the Christmas party fiasco. It’s practically zero to none. And he doesn’t know my name.

Chances are that he took a shot of scotch with all of the other rich men at the party and forgot all about the incident. It’s hardly even worthy of giving it a second thought. Unless…

Unless the man is crazy enough to waste his time by investigating and learning my name, so he knows exactly who to accuse when he rings HR first thing after the Christmas break is over.

Unless, he’s determined enough, and face it, he looks like the type to never leave something unfinished, and he called upon his friends at the head of the HR department and has already filed the complaint.

Thoughts about Adam Davies taking things even further and contacting a solicitor to take me to court plague my mind.

If that’s the case, then I believe I will be indeed seeing Dr. Adam Davies again when I plead guilty in court. 

Groaning, I get out of bed, still a little tired. Needless to say my sleep hasn’t been too restful following the kissing incident.

Figuring that I could either waste my time worrying about legal fees, or I could focus on what are more pressing issues. Like the presentation I am yet to finish and that is due in the first week after the Christmas holiday ends, which is in less than 10 days. 

Why do I still bother about that, you ask? Well, I guess I’m still holding out to a tiny bit of hope that the kissing incident will be forgotten.

I sign and pick up my laptop, settling on the small office chair which makes a screeching noise as I lower myself into it. It has seen better days, for sure, but I noticed it one night when I was coming home from work, abandoned on the side of the road in front of a nice row of houses. I picked it up with great difficulty and hauled it for half a mile until I reached my building, proudly setting it down in front of a small desk that I had procured through a similar method.

As I boot up my computer, I half debate searching for alternative ways of making money, like say, selling an organ or two. I could live with only one kidney and half my liver, right? If I remember correctly, the latter regenerates itself.

First thing’s first, I open my emails, out of morbid curiosity to see if anyone from Vauxhall's HR department has contacted me yet.

Filtering through the influx of emails that should have really gone into spam, I come across something I never thought I would. A reply to a pitch I have made about the wiper system on cars, which I have sent out to a lot of car manufacturing companies when I was in my final year in Uni. 

I had chosen the wiper’s system as my dissertation project, and as I was trying to do research and come up with a new engineering concept, I discovered something which I truly believe is groundbreaking. And since the engineering and testing lab in University were not equipped to help me build and test out a prototype, all my work so far has been theoretical. It got me the maximum grade on my dissertation and probably helped get me into the Vauxhall’s internship program, but what I really wanted is to have it designed and tested out in real life.

That is why, before presenting my dissertation, I sent out emails reaching out to a lot of companies. None has replied.

Until now, that is, for I finally have a reply from Land Rover. No f*****g way!

Holy s**t!

Oh, my God! 

My finger connects with the touchpad of my laptop so hard that I fear I caused a c***k to form. As long as I still get to read the email, the whole device can die, I don’t care.

Received today at 12:15 

From: Alistair-Craster@landrover.co.uk

To: Lily-Parker@gmail.com

Subject: Re: Wiper system re engineering

Dear Ms Parker, 

Thank you for reaching out. It’s great to see young minds at work.

Your project sounds very interesting, I would love to hear more about it.

Are you currently working with any company? I would love to meet with you and discuss opportunities within the wiper design department at Land Rover. Let me know where you are based and we can schedule a meeting.

Best regards, 

Alistair Craster

Head of Engineering

Jaguar and Land Rover

I read the email, and then re-read it ten more times, to make sure I’m seeing correctly and not misunderstanding Alistair Craster’s reply. 

Initially my heart skips a beat, but soon after I confirm that indeed, the reply I got is a positive, my heart almost stops beating completely. It refuses to restart. I may be on the verge of a coronary right here, but I don’t care. Someone is interested in my idea and wants to help me take it further.

Kind of. Most likely. Fine, It may be a bit of a stretch, but the bottom line is that someone read my email and replied, so it’s a start.

Craster had said that my project sounded “interesting.” That has to be a good sign, right? Nevermind that I sent the email to him almost one year ago. It may have ended up in his spam folder. The good part is that now I have even more data that I can present regarding my project.

I take another deep breath, getting up and pacing around my tiny bedroom before sitting back down to write my reply.

From: Lily-Parker@gmail.com

To: Alistair-Craster@landrover.co.uk

Cc: Lily.Parker@Vauxhall.co.uk

Subject: Re: Re: Wiper system re engineering

Dear Mr Craster, 

Is great to hear from you.

I am currently enrolled in Vauxhall’s apprenticeship in the wiper and design department under Dyvia Pradeep, based in London.

Unfortunately, my position doesn’t allow me to carry out the further design, the prototype and testing at Vauxhall, but I am sure that with a little support we might be onto something revolutionary. Ms. Pradeep will be retiring before I am set to graduate from Vauxhall’s trainee program, therefore she has been very honest with the expectations I should have here. 

She is aware of the thesis I wrote and the designs I came up with, and will support me if I need some time off to present my findings to a company that might be interested.

Kind Regards,

Lily Parker

I read my reply over and over again, just like I did with Cratser’s email. I realise I’m basically begging for a chance, but it is what it is. Satisfied with seeing a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel I woke up in, I walk out of my bedroom with the intention of making myself a well deserved cup of coffee. 

While fiddling with the kettle, someone clears their throat behind me. Impossibly close, so close that I jumped out of my skin, nearly burning myself.

“Christ, Jessie!” Clutching my poor heart, I take a deep breath with my eyes closed, trying to calm down. “You scared the s**t out of me!”

“Lily-Ann.” My best friend starts, and I freeze, eye big. This is bad, Jessie never and I mean never, calls me Lily-Ann. Truth be told, my middle name is only present in official documents, and most of the people that have ever met me have no idea about it.

I look around for my flatmate, Carrie, not seeing her anywhere. I wonder how on Earth Jessie got in, I didn’t hear her knock.

“Hey, Jessie! How are you?” I ask when I actually wanted to say what are you doing here? 

“The party!” She scowls at me.

Fuck! I look around the small living room next to the open space kitchen, praying that Carrie pops out. No such luck.