Iva did not ask me to lie. She needed a reference for a store manager position, and I had worked with her long enough to know how well she remembered orders and calmed unhappy customers. I volunteered before she finished her sentence. On our break we ate rolls on stockroom boxes and laughed while picturing her in an office with a door that closed. I told her she would certainly get a call.
When the other store's owner called me, the conversation began exactly that way. I praised Iva's organization and experience. Then I added that she struggled under pressure and that, as her friend, I hoped the job would not be too demanding. I said it in a caring voice. I did not mention that Iva was currently resolving a complaint our own boss had refused to handle. Or that I dreaded a morning when someone else would sit on her box.
The interview invitation never arrived. Iva checked her phone for several days, then said they probably had not even considered her application. I offered her half my roll. I could say I felt ashamed then, but the truth is that first I felt relief. Our little world stayed the same. In it I was needed, funny, and familiar. I did not have to seek friendship beyond working hours or admit how little of it I had.
She learned the truth by chance from a former colleague who had started at that store. The owner had mentioned the concerned reference. Iva waited after our shift without making accusations I could call exaggerated. She asked what I had said about pressure. I began explaining that I had meant no harm. She interrupted: "I didn't ask what you meant." I had to repeat the exact words and hear how carefully I had chosen them.
She refused my offer to call immediately and fix everything. She did not want a new opportunity to depend on another conversation of mine. She applied elsewhere and named our boss as her reference, though they often argued, because at least he knew what they were arguing about. I nevertheless admitted to the owner that my assessment had been inaccurate. That neither restored the time nor entitled me to expect forgiveness.
Iva got another job. On her last day she brought cakes for everyone, including me. She thanked me when I handed her jacket over, as politely as she thanked the others. Now I spend my breaks in a small park. Sometimes I write a message asking how she is and delete it before sending. I am still learning the difference between missing someone and believing that, because I miss her, she must stay where I can find her.