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Please know that for me, it will always be you.
Yours,
Addie
C- 281-555-7779
Email: [email protected]
I read her letter several times before I am able to act. Fuck an email or a phone call. It’s time to go and get my girl back.
December 10, 2014
I’ve been at LaSalle and Wills’ New York office for a week now, and I feel like I am dying a slow death.
I haven’t heard from Simon. I can only assume he got my letter and has decided he doesn’t want anything to do with me. Which hurts me so much I can’t allow myself to think about it. I wouldn’t be able to function if I let the pain take over.
Being in New York City is bittersweet.
On the one hand it’s wonderful being able to talk to my family without worrying about time differences and international call charges.
On the other hand, it’s a nightmare being able to talk to my family without worrying about time differences and international call charges.
They call me all the time, several times a day. Everyone except my mother. We haven’t spoken since our blow up when she came to visit me in London. I know I said some terrible things to her that night, but I didn’t understand why she gave up so much for my father.
I love Simon, but I didn’t let that love drive me to give up everything important I have worked my whole life for.
Although, sitting at my desk, I’m not even sure I am living my hopes and dreams. All of my dreams lately seem to be across an ocean and focused on a man I fell in love with, and an organization I volunteered with that let me experience passion in the practice of law.
I sigh and turn back to the contracts I am reviewing. The New York office is much bigger than the London office. Twice as many people means no one but partners have their own offices. I share an office with another junior associate named Margie, who spends most of her time staring at a picture of Henry Cavill she keeps on her desk.
She is currently at lunch, and I have our office to myself. So, I decide to do something I’ve been putting off for months.
I call my mother.
The phone rings twice before she answers.
“Hello.” Her voice is soft but firm, it sounds like the most comforting sound in the world. My eyes fill with tears.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Addie. Hi, baby. How are you?” Her voice is animated and happy, and I am so relieved she is not as petty as I am.
“I’m okay. Settling in. Working. Trying to keep a low profile. How are you?”
“I’m better now that I have heard your voice. Are you happy?” As always, she goes straight to the heart of the matter.
“No.” I answer simply and honestly. It’s not a truth I have been willing to admit to myself until now.
“What’s going on, my love?”
Her use of this term of endearment makes me feel so unworthy. I’ve been terrible to her. I’ve judged her so harshly for loving my father. For not seeking her own independence and for giving up her career to raise and support her family.
“Mommy, I fell in love. And I miss him. I hate my job. I miss London, and I just feel like my whole life is a mess.”
This admission comes pouring out of me. I feel unburdened for having said it.
“Well, that’s wonderful,” my mother chirps.
