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It’s something I genuinely want. Something that feels challenging, yet attainable.
And now I am doing it, with or without Alana by my side.
I’m just taking it day by day at the moment, but I'm slowly figuring out how to move on with my life without her. I can’t let my decisions be based on anyone else anymore.Even though I’m still fucking wrecked over losing the woman I love.
But talking with my mom the other day helped me to finally see the light. She's right about going after my dreams. And not just because she wants me to be happy, and all that motherly stuff. But because I need to be a man that I can be proud of.
And it’s just a bonus if I can also be a man that Alana would respect, too.
“And you’ll contact me as soon as you’ve processed the paperwork, correct? You said that it should be finished before close of business?” Candace questions the clerk, in her no nonsense way.
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll expedite the paperwork.”
“I’ll be waiting to receive the full list of approved candidates, too,” Candace continues.
“I’ll personally make sure your team gets the list first thing.” Then the clerk nods at me and lowers his voice. “Good luck, Mr. Westbrook. Between you and me, my family will be rooting for you.”
“Thanks, George. That means a lot.” I shake his hand.
We go to leave, walking down the city hall steps toward Candace’s sleek car parked out front. “You’re making the right decision, Davis,” she says confidently as she opens her door and sets her briefcase inside.
“I know,” I reply,almostbelieving it.
I feel good about my decision, but only time will tell if it was actually the right decision. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? I lose? Better than never trying, never knowing, and forever living with ‘what ifs’.
“Need a ride?” she asks me.
“Thanks, but I’m going to walk. Clear my head.”
It’s been a crazy day so far, and I would enjoy the quiet time to think. To process this new direction in my life. Plus, the station is only a couple blocks from here, and it’s nice out. A walk would be good for me.
Candace responds with a nod and I watch as she peels away from the cracked curb.
It’s bittersweet, making this decision. I feel good about what I’m doing. Even though my heart is still beaten and bruised over losing Alana—for a second time—I feel like this is the first positive move I’ve made in the last four years. I have no idea if I’ll win this thing or not, but at least I’m moving forward. I’m taking charge.
I’ve begrudgingly come to accept that I can keep taking it one step at a time in the other areas of my life, even while missing that woman.
Despite being off the whole day, I stop by the police station. I want my co-workers to hear the big announcement directly from me, before it makes the local evening news.
Everyone’s milling around the front offices, trying to look busy at the end of the day when I walk in. Mendoza is sitting on the edge of Ryan’s desk, linking a chain of paper clips together.
When he sees me, he hurriedly hops up off his ass. “What’s up, boss?” He pretends to shuffle through the papers on the tabletop and I just shake my head.
“I’ve got some news, guys,” I say, stepping into the middle of the room.
Everyone gathers around me with curious expressions and when I’m sure I have their attention, I clear my throat. “You guys have harassed me about this for years. But today, I’m proud to announce that…I’ve officially thrown my hat in the ring for mayor of Honey Hill.”
In an instant, congratulations are shouted around the office. My coworkers rush me with a healthy mix of encouraging words and disappointment that I’ll be leaving them.
Ryan’s emotional ass starts crying, but he quickly tries to play it off as seasonal allergies. “Hey! I call dibs on your desk when you win the election,” he shouts out above the noise.
I laugh. “Okay, but you’ll have to fight James for it. He’s had his eye on it since I pulled it out of the storage.”
“I get your paper weight!” Gail yells across the room, pointing out the silly bronze pig paperweight that I won in last year’s white elephant gift exchange.
“All right,” I concede.
“Then I want your bobblehead,” Mendoza shouts, eying the NFL bobblehead of my brother, Harry.
