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The housewarming present from Cammie, a coffee pot, no longer sits on the counter. My surprise birthday present from Marlow, a rosebud vase I fell in love with two years ago when we were shopping at the flea market, was wrapped in paper and packed away. The guys gave me a framed photo of all six of us on the beach in the Hamptons two summers ago as a gift for Christmas. Its spot on the windowsill now sits empty.
Memories of the experiences that have shaped who I am usually fill this apartment but are gone and hidden today. I wrap my arms around myself, my throat thick when I swallow. My mom would tell me to keep moving forward and not to wallow.
She’s my best cure for the blues, and I know she’s always up early, so I make the call. She answers on the first ring. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I reply, rummaging around to make sure I didn’t forget anything. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I feel lost without my usual morning routine. I’m not even close to being ready to go to Rad’s tonight. I stop and sigh, the weight of worry pressing down on me. “I’m scared, Mom.”
“Don’t be, darling. You’ll land right where you’re meant to be.”
“Is that here or back in Texas? Should I have come home?”
“I’d love to have you here, but I have a feeling you’re more suited for the Big Apple these days.”
I’m already smiling, my chest feeling lighter. “Change is good,” I say, hoping I’ll believe it. I don’t. Not quite yet.
“Change is good. Look how well you’ve been since the breakup with Steve.”
Logically, I know I’m better off, but should it have been so easy to part ways? I’ve been more hurt by his parting commentary than the absence of him.
Ugh. Like Rad said, he doesn’t deserve another second of my time or any emotion of mine. “Yeah. Just moved right on.” He sure did. “What are you doing this morning?”
“Having a cup of coffee on the back porch and listening to the birds starting the day with a song.”
“By looking at the time, you better get a move on this morning.”
“Is that a moving pun, Mom?”
“No,” she says with a laugh I miss so much. “It’s don’t get fired advice.”
I pull the string of the blinds and let the sunshine in. “It’s good advice.”
“Remember, Tealey, home is where the heart is. You’re always welcome to return, but something tells me your life is there. So put on your strongest armor and face this new challenge head-on.”
That seems to be all I need to find the strength to charge forth. “Thank you, Mom.”
“You’re welcome. Remember what I’ve always told you. A new chapter starts with a fresh page.”
“It’s time to live a new story.”
* * *
I dump my bag on my desk before making a beeline for the break room in desperate need of coffee. Last night, I accidentally packed some of my morning routine items, so it took me longer than expected to get ready, and I had no time to stop for coffee.
As soon as I have a hot cup in hand, I return and straighten my cubicle in preparation for the day, and then send Rad a quick text: I can’t make it tonight. Still too much to do.
Three dots wave across the screen and then disappear.
Wave, and then gone again. Then a message populates: Anything I can help with?
Me: No. Just need more time.
Rad: Good luck.
Me: Thanks. I need it.
I set my phone down and take another sip of coffee.
My co-worker Peggy wishes me a good morning on the way to her desk. “Misty’s in the waiting area.”
“She is?” I stand and tilt to see down the aisle. “I have news for her.” After kicking my bottom drawer closed, I head to the waiting area and signal for her to come back. “I have good news.” I return to my chair and direct her to one of the two others that fit in the cramped space. She pushes her long brown hair from her shoulder and lets her shoulders sag. Concealer can’t hide the dark circles under her eyes, and the faintest of smiles appear to be a chore.
“I could use some, but I don’t have much time. I can’t be late to work again.”
I open the file. “This is an agreement to work with one of the best divorce attorneys in New York. He’s taking your case pro bono, so you won’t have to pay him.”
She studies the papers as she twists the straps of her purse in her lap. Looking at me, she asks, “He’s really going to help my kids and me? There’s no catch?”
“He is. He was moved by your story.” Resting my hand on my chest, I say, “I know him personally. He’ll do everything he can to help you.” I pull a pen from a mug I keep on my desk and set it on top of the papers. “I read through them. It is a legal document, but there’s nothing to be concerned about. It’s giving him the right to represent you with your permission. If you agree, you sign here, and then I’ll contact your current legal aid to inform him of our plans to work with Mr. Wellington.”
