Page 103 of Only One Tour Bus

“No. There are a few months left on my lease and I’m going to stay and apply for jobs. I’ve saved and can get through the next few months. But if nothing happens after that…”

“You’re welcome home whenever you need. You know we love you.”

“You made my room into a home temple.”

“Only half of it. But there’s still the guest room. Which has a bigger bed anyway.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. Now do you want to tell me why you’re really upset?”

I’ve never been able to hide anything from her. Still… “How did you know?”

“You sound very sad, but only a little sad when you’re talking about work. It sounds like something else is happening, too.”

I unburden myself to my mom like I’m back in high school, crying over a boy not liking me back.

“Oh, Bacha.” Hearing my mom call me child is comforting, and I realize how much I miss her and home living here. Mostly it’s a wonderful fairy tale and I’m only a little homesick. But being crushed professionally and personally and realizing I have no friends to lean on, it’s all a bit much to take.

I am sort of friends with my other tour leaders and with Vihana, but I haven’t been able to really develop those relationships since we’re always traveling and can’t spend too much time together. Maybe I need to call some of them up and see if anyone is interested in an insta-friend relationship with immediate responsibilities of comforting me through some tough times, right out the gate.

Doubtful, with that invitation.

Mom is trying to comfort me through this, saying he didn’t deserve me anyway. Apparently it’s her go-to, because she just got done telling me that Rob didn’t deserve me either. I don’t believe it, since I’m in love with Callum, and what would that make me if I loved someone who doesn’t deserve me?

After Mom lists the many ways I am an awesome person, she threatens to get on a plane and come see me. But I talk her out of that by promising to call and text often. I need some time alone to figure things out.

I open my computer. Might as well get started looking for that job with all this newfound alone time I have.

One week later

I spray some Reddi-wip directly into my mouth, courtesy of the American food aisle in the grocery store nearest to me. Needless to say, it’s been a rough week in the job market. There were a few job postings, so there are companies that are doing better than Expedition Tours, but I haven’t gotten many responses from them yet, despite coming in with experience. I did have one interview, but they said they had a record amount of applicants, some with even more experience than me.

I tried to branch out and apply for jobs other than tour leader, but it turns out that knowing a lot about art, history, human nature, and where to find the closest toilet doesn’t have much use outside touring and teaching. And one of those things you need a credential for. One that I don’t have.

I did send an email to one of the tour leaders I run into the most in Europe, and we’re getting coffee when she’s back in town. So I might even have a friend. And Vihana reached out to me to apologize for what happened with Rob and to see if I wanted to meet her down at the pub. So two friends, potentially.

A 200 percent increase from my previous friend count. As long as I don’t blow it when we actually meet up.

But the job search isn’t anything compared to dealing with the loss of Callum. And he’s not even someone I had for a long time, not like the five years I had my job. Which makes it even worse that this hurts so much.

Hurts to the point that I cry so much I’ve had to start being productive during crying sessions. Applying for jobs and crying. Cooking and crying. Doing the laundry and crying. Working out and crying.

Which is the hardest one, hands down. Because of the air needed for both activities.

But it has to stop soon, right? Time heals all wounds, right?

I’d be greatly appreciative if time would hurry up that process and I can get back to normal. Quickly.

Because the pain doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.

I squirt more Reddi-wip in my mouth. At least it will never disappoint me. Except a few seconds later, when it tries to kill me as I choke on it, surprised when my phone rings.

It’s Mom. I could not answer since I have no good news for her, but then she’ll worry. So I answer. “How is the job hunt going?” Mom asks me in a tone so gentle she must think I’m a wild lion that she doesn’t want to startle.

“Not good.” An understatement.

“Do you want to talk to your cousin about starting a business?”