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Chapter One
Carol
“That’sit.I’mdone.”I say and throw my phone on the table. It hits the surface and bounces, before ending up on the floor. The white, furry carpet softens the fall.
“I’ve heard that before,” Rose says in her singsong voice. She jumps to her feet, stretching her body before she picks up my phone. After a quick inspection, she hands it back to me. “In fact, I’ve heard that four times this week. And it’s only Wednesday.”
And I’ve meant it each time. I love my job and for the three years I’ve been in the company, I’ve never said no to a task or complained about doing overtime. But being insulted during a team meeting for implementing the company’s protocol is the cherry on top of everything else.
The screen lights up again, this time with a message from Silvia, my boss. I scroll through the long text, humming softly, my eyebrows raised at her audacious tone.
I guess I was wrong. The cherry is this half-assed apology. At least when her assistant called me a few minutes earlier, she bothered to check if I was alright.
“What’s she saying?” Rose asks without taking her eyes off her phone. There’s a flow of soft beeping sounds, followed by her nails clicking on the screen. Dennis, her boyfriend, must have left work early.
Not going to read it again. “That it was unprofessional for me to storm off like that after the meeting and, while she understands I might have been upset with the language she used, this is the first and last time she’ll allow it.”
Rose turns to me with a confused frown and stares at me intently for a few seconds. “Really? Who’d have thought that the fourth time’s the charm.”
My mind begins to race, trying to list all my options at the moment. I mean, it’s not something I can do just on the spur of the moment. “Firstly, I need to find another job, Rose. I can’t just quit and wing it from there.” Money is not tight by any means, but spending weeks, possibly months, without an income is extremely irresponsible.
“How do you plan on finding a new one if you aren’t looking for one?” she presses.
I sigh. OK, maybe I’m a bit undecided on the matter. I do love my job and I am very good at it. Numbers make sense; they fit into little boxes, and they always add up. And when they don’t, the search begins until I find out why. It’s almost exhilarating.
Not that Rose would ever understand that. She thinks I’m crazy for pursuing such a boring career. Hers is both grounded and artistic—at least that’s my understanding of architecture. You can design anything you like as long as you can actually build it.
“Carol, she called you a shrew for doing your job. You’ve been working your ass off for years, practically saved the company from the IRS, and she still treats you like crap. Why are you still there?” She raises a hand before I can speak. “And don’t start that crap about her actions being all about motivating the team. You’re way past that.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.” There’s a limit to the excuses I can tell myself to feel better, and that limit has been reached today.
Things were rocky at work from the start, mostly because there’s always been a very competitive atmosphere between the employees, but it’s never been this bad. The last two months in particular have been hell and I don’t understand why. Real estate is booming, and I know we’ve been increasing our profits for several consecutive months.
The only reason I’ve been postponing my resignation is that Fraser Global is a top-tier company I worked really hard to get into. It took three years for me to move from an entry-level accountant to a financial analyst. Others would kill for my position. It’s not the place for me, though. Not anymore. It’s crazy when you know exactly what you need to do, and you just don’t.
“Then what are you waiting for?” Rose doesn’t wait for an answer. She pulls her icy blonde hair up with a scrunchie and grabs both our cups before heading to the kitchen for a refill. The machine comes to life and soon the entire room is filled with the smell of roasted coffee.
That’s one of the advantages of having an open-plan kitchen and living room. It creates a space for company and interactions while cooking. When I first moved into this apartment, it looked tiny but as I began to decorate it, the more spacious it felt. My couch is big enough for four people to sit on and can easily be converted into a bed. I don’t have any other seating options aside from two pouf ottomans, but I don’t need them. Whenever I host, my bright, white kitchen is the centerpiece.
I wait for her, trying to figure out exactly why I’m avoiding the issue. A quick mental list reveals the perpetrator. I have been on autopilot since my sister announced her engagement. I was thrilled for her, but the big news came two days after Morgan and I broke up. What was supposed to be a family dinner to console me turned into a huge celebration. That was six months ago.
Rose sets the cups of freshly brewed coffee on the table and turns to me expectantly.
“It’s not the right time. Emily is getting married in two weeks. I can’t be thinking about that and simultaneously sending out CVs, going to interviews…” Just the thought of it makes me sick to my stomach.
I put the phone down, gently this time, and brush aside the strands of hair that are stuck to my sweaty forehead. No matter how happy I am that my sister has found her soulmate, as she says, the thought of going there as a single woman makes me break into a cold sweat.
The wedding will take place at a fancy resort near our hometown, so while the ceremony is on the Sunday, we are supposed to be staying at the resort from Friday, making sure that the whole family can be together. And not only them —everyone we know has been invited. And they will all start asking questions.
For a little hometown likeours, a twenty-eight-year-old woman should have already been married and had at least one child. My mother had drilled that point into us since we were little.
That was one of the reasons I chose to move to New York City four years ago. That fleeting freedom I experienced while studying in another state was too sweet to abandon. Living here, amongst millions of strangers, allowed me to build myself up the way I wanted.
But Rose doesn’t empathize with my worries. “Please don’t tell me you are stressing over the opinions of a few townsfolk?”
I tuck my feet under a pillow and lay back on the couch, hot coffee in hand. “You know what? You’re right. I’m stressing out about my mom. It’s her preaching that I don’t want to have to listen to.” Mostly because it will last for much longer than that weekend.
“Girl, you supposedly took all this time to work on yourself. Getting over what people think and say should have been your number one priority.” Rose huffs and opens her mouth again, ready to make another spot-on comment, I’m sure, but my phone rings at that moment.
