“I haven’t been happy at my job for a while. You know my migraines have gotten worse, you’ve seen me more stressed, and then after the false alarm earlier this year, I just…I haven’t felt safe or comfortable at school. And everyone else seems to be doing okay, but I’m struggling.”
“Your migraines really have been the worst they’ve been in a while,” Hazel agrees.
“And that false alarm was scary,” Winnie affirms. “Just because everyone else was able to reset doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I had kind of hoped my vacation would be a good reset and I would feel more ready to go back to school, but it just never happened. And here’s the part I didn’t tell you… I applied to the community college here. They have a hybrid program that would allow me to take things at my pace and go in person sometimes. And if I had the time and energy for it, I could substitute teach for some income.”
“Wait, what’s the program?” Winnie asks.
“Graphic design,” I say.
“Oh my GOD,” Hazel says around a mouthful of pizza. “You wanted to do that back in, like, early college years. Or something. Right?”
“I just wanted to be an artist. I think back then I was open to a lot of different paths, before I decided to teach. I remember really loving my graphic design class and that’s sort of the thing I keep coming back to.”
Hazel kicks her feet, giddy for me. This is the beauty of friendship—seeing my own emotions reflected in the people who love me. I didn’t realize how much I was containing my own joy around this until witnessing Hazel’s reaction.
“When will you hear if you got accepted?” Winnie asks.
“I already did,” I say, and Winnie and Hazel gasp.
“When?” Hazel asks.
“I got accepted before I left for Cabo. They needed a decision by July first, and I emailed them last night and said yes.”
Hazel squeals, drops her plate and her beer on the table, takes my plate and beer from me and puts them on the table, and then half-tackles me in a hug.
“Abby, this is so exciting!” she says right in my ear. When she finally releases me, Winnie reaches out to squeeze my leg.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner,” I say. “I just was—still am terrified about such a big change.”
“We’re going to be here to support you through it,” Winnie says.
My heart feels too full. I don’t know why I was ever nervous to tell them anything. No one has loved me better in all my life than these two women.
“Plus, apology not accepted. You aren’t obligated to tell us every single thought and feeling you’re having, except of course that I will eventually get it out of you,” Hazel says.
“That sounds like a threat,” I say.
“Oh, it is,” Hazel says.
“Go easy on our girl, she’s had a tough year,” Winnie says.
“Thank you, Winnie,” I say.
“But things are turning around for you, Abs! Look at you changing careers and falling in love again,” Hazel says.
“I did not fall in love again,” I say.
Hazel takes a big bite of her pizza, raising her eyebrows at me in feigned innocence. I look to Winnie, who has also taken a big bite but has her eyes on her plate.
“You guys are the worst,” I say.
After they’ve left and I’m cleaning up in the kitchen, finally alone with my thoughts, it dawns on me that I was right—telling Winnie and Hazel does make it feel real. But it’s not a bad thing, like I thought it might be. It feels real, but it also feels right. And now I know what peace feels like in my body. I know what it’s like to make the right decision, even if it’s the hard one.
Uncomfortable doesn’t make it wrong, and I have a baby sea turtle to thank for that lesson.
Before I can chicken out, I email the principal and set up a meeting for next week so I can give my resignation. Then I turn off all my kitchen lights and head to the guest bedroom to hang out with Captain. I sit on the floor with a toy and wiggle it around for him to hunt.
