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“You know I’m clueless about that stuff,” he says.
I shake my head, laughing. “It’s a good thing your wife has impeccable taste.”
“Yeah, I’m a lucky man.” Griffin smiles at the mention of Emma. He’s head over heels for her. He met her at his lastRainin’ Menshow in Vegas while she was there to headline a fashion show at a bridal convention, and after spending a few hours together on the Vegas strip, they got married. At the time, they were under the influence of alcohol, but as I’ve witnessed, the real catalyst for them ending up at the wedding chapel was their undeniable connection.
Griffin’s eyes fall to the open closet door. The organized chaos that is my moving boxes.
“I can put in those shelves we talked about this weekend.”
“Only if you think you’ll want them for the space after I move out, otherwise I can manage.”
You don’t realize how much stuff you have until you try to stuff it into a New York City apartment closet.
“We’ll get it set up this weekend. I’ve got to run.” He strides over to pull me into a hug. “I’m so proud of you, Soph. Have a great first day.”
“Thank you.” I squeeze back, then release him.
“I’ll see you after work.”
“See you after,” I call, watching him disappear down the hallway. A minute later, the front door clicks shut.
Once he’s gone, I move to my desk and open my laptop.
I’d stayed up late last night editing my latest blog entry and I want to post it before I leave.
It’s about using seed paper as a sustainable alternative for printing wedding invitations.
My blog started out as a project three years ago in a social media marketing class I took as an elective, but I enjoyed it so much that I’ve kept it going. Now, Sustainable Wedding Chic is for those looking for sustainable and eco-friendly practices for their wedding décor, invitations and more. The blog has grown substantially in subscribers over the years and I even have paid advertisers now. More recently, I started a YouTube channel with tutorials on DIY centerpieces and floral arrangements using upcycled glassware and vases.
My blog is a fun hobby, but working at Marion Adler Events is my dream job.
But I guess with every dream job, there is stress and anxiety, which explains my breakfast ending up in the toilet this morning. Maybe it’s too perfect. Things are working outtoowell, and that’s why I’m anxious. Now that I have my dream job, well, a paid internship that I plan on becoming my job once I prove to Marion that I’ve got what it takes to plan New York City elite’s dream weddings, I’m worried it’s too good to be true.
It's like when I was ten and my mom had finally quit partying and staying out all night. She’d landed a job at a retail store and we were able to make rent for the first time in years, then out of the blue Griffin came to get me out of school to tell me she had died in a car accident. She was finally becoming a better version of herself, then she was gone.
After that, Griffin and I had to figure out everything on our own, most of the adulting falling in his lap, but we both grew up quickly. While my mom’s death taught me resilience, it also made me afraid to be too hopeful, too happy. And showed me how quickly something can be taken away.
I reapply my lipstick and give myself another once over before throwing a water bottle in my purse, then lock up and head for the elevator.
Out on the street, it takes me a minute to remember which direction I need to go to catch the subway north to midtown. Begrudgingly, I pull my phone out and check the note Griffin sent to make sure I’m going the right way. Praying to the porcelain gods this morning hasn’t allotted me any spare time so I can’t afford to be riding the subway the wrong direction. It’s only a two-block walk to the subway entrance, but New York blocks are long and I’m already feeling lightheaded when I descend the stairs. At the turnstile, I slide my transit card, then hurry to the train before its doors close.
In the subway car, I find a seat, then double check my notes again for the stop I need. While I desperately want Griffin to start treating me like an adult who can take care of herself, I realize that I might also be at fault for the imbalance in our relationship. I lean on him. A lot. I’m hoping that working and making my own money, and eventually moving out of his and Emma’s apartment, will show him that I’m capable of taking care of myself. I don’t want him to think that he has to take care of me. He’s got Emma now, and at some point, they’ll want to start a family and I don’t want to be in their way. He’s done so much for me, I couldn’t repay him if I tried, but what I can do now is try to be less of a burden.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text from my friend, Coco.
Coco:Thinking of you on your first day!
Me:Thanks. It’s exciting, but I’m also really nervous.
Coco:I’d be stressed, too. I’m not ready for a real job and no summer break.
Me:Enjoy your pool days for now. Your graduate program is only a year. Next year at this time you’ll be on the job hunt.
Coco:Ugh. Let me enjoy this.
I smile, knowing Coco would put off adulting forever if she could. She’s been a free spirit since we met in seventh grade. We’re opposites in a way, but maybe that’s why our friendship works. I help her focus when she needs it, while she’s always eager to remind me to let loose and have some fun.
Coco:A few of us went out last night to Marquee. I hadn’t been there since that night with you after graduation. The night you left with that hottie *wink face emoji*
