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It was just over an hour’s drive on a good day, at non-peak hours. Today, even though it’d been well after the morning rush, it hadn’t been a good traffic day.
I’d sat in my car, staring at the place where I’d be working, and it was surreal. Looking at the buildings, I couldn’t help but wonder if any actors I’d recognize were working away in them. That had finally diminished the traffic frustration and sent a buzz of excitement through my veins.
I’d spent ten minutes staring at my new employer’s studio, and then, trying to avoid lunch-hour traffic, I’d headed back home. An hour and forty minutes later, here I was.
Maybe after I got a few paychecks, I could afford to move a little closer and shave a few minutes off my drive. You know, cut it down to a flat hour. Ugh. So traffic and commute time would suck. Surely the excitement of leading a creative team of three would make it all worthwhile.
I knew there’d be downsides to the job. Willa had warned me the head writer position would be demanding, nonstop, require extra hours, and would be under constant scrutiny, so I’d been trying to prepare myself for all of that. It was true with almost any job, right? Well, not the doggy daycare, but then the hourly wage reflected the difference.
I was going to miss those dogs.
But not nearly as much as I missed Cash, Magnolia, Knox, Anna, and…others. So many others. It was odd that all those years ago, I’d never really fit in in Dragonfly Lake, never had time to fit in. Now I’d gone back for less than a month, and I had all these connections, with so many different people. Besides the ones I’d developed deeper friendships with, there were the Diamonds, who’d continued to spend their Thursday evening poker sessions at the inn, allowing me to join them, adopting me as if I was one of their own, making me feel closer to Aunt Phyl and to each of the ladies. There were Cash’s family and people in town, like Jake Bergman and Jewel, the bartender at Humble’s. Olivia and Shawna and Everly and Kemp.
After living in this apartment for over a year, I didn’t know more than about two people who lived in the building. While I had a growing list of contacts and acquaintances in the TV industry, none of them were what I’d consider a close friend. The only other people I knew were my coworkers at the dog place and the doggy dads and moms who brought their pups in regularly.
That was depressing. Remarkably, it had never bothered me until this moment.
With a noisy exhalation, I opened the car door and climbed out into the stale air of the parking garage. I’d gotten in the habit of breathing in the humid lake air, and I stopped mid-breath now when all that registered were a dirty concrete smell and the faint odor of gasoline and motor oil.
I took the elevator up to the third floor. As I exited, my next-door neighbor, Aubrey or Audrey, I could never remember which, was carrying a floor lamp and waiting to get on, alongside a tall, muscled guy who was carrying a moving box.
“Hey,” I said, “are you moving out?”
“I am.” Aubrey or Audrey looked at the guy and smiled a lot like the newlywed Patels had smiled back at the inn that first week. “I’m moving in with my fiancé, Bart.”
“Wow. Congratulations,” I said, smiling. I hadn’t seen the guy before, hadn’t known she was serious with anyone, but then I probably wouldn’t. We mostly ran into each other at the mailboxes and elevator.
“Thank you,” my neighbor said. “We’re excited, aren’t we?” She and Bart shared an elated look, then she went up on her toes and pressed a brief kiss to his lips.
“Can’t wait for you to be my wife, babe,” Bart said.
The elevator doors started to close, so I caught one and let the blissed-up couple get on.
“Good to see you,” Audrey or Aubrey called out to me, her tone friendly and happy. So damn happy.
I smiled to myself as I walked toward my unit. With every step, my smile faded, and as I unlocked my door, that heaviness set into my chest again.
I wanted what she had.
I’d almosthadwhat she had.
Maybe… Maybe I could still have what my neighbor had?
No. I’d made my choice.
After entering my tiny one-bedroom apartment and getting that same antsy, angsty sensation I’d gotten every other time I’d walked in since Saturday, I shut the door and went to the personality-less sofa that, like the rest of the furniture, had come with the place. With a soul-deep sigh, I flopped down on it, wondering how long I’d feel this way, this raw and sad and uninspired. Discontented.
The unease that had accompanied me the whole way home from Tennessee and been present every second since I’d arrived reared its head and made me gasp for breath.
Had I made a mistake?
Hugging a throw pillow to my chest, I rationalized with myself yet again. A girl didn’t get a dream job offer every day. A head writer position for a relative newbie like me? That didn’t happen. Even selling a series to a network didn’t often happen to thousands of writers who spent their entire lives trying.
I’d told myself for the past year plus, since before my divorce was final, that this wasmytime. My chance to see tomyneeds that had been sacrificed for years and years, first for my mom, then for my ex.
Toppling over to lie on my side, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to drown out the unsure voice in my head that asked ever so politely whether my needs had changed.
I was in this now. I’d said yes to Stream. I’d be insane to tell them no.
