I finally made my way to the shower after coming home drenched and drained. What little battery I had left after an endless and unrelenting Sunday night, I’d used up in Dean’s office.
God that felt good. It felt right.
At least I’d gone down feeling proud. Defending myself. Since it was clear no one else in that room had my back.
I forced a glass of water down my throat and sprawled across my sofa, giving myself this time to be alone and sulk. Eventually, I was bound to be so consumed by everything I’d have no choice but to fall asleep.
Sometime later, it had appeared to be exactly what happened. I walked to my kitchen for another glass of water, grabbed three stale pretzels out of a bowl left on the counter, and a multivitamin.
That should do the trick for now.
I fell asleep for what seemed like a day and a half when I heard footsteps in my apartment. I sprinted up and found Char tiptoeing in.
“Hey,” my friend whispered, setting the spare keys I’d given her on the table.
“Hi.” My voice was hoarse.
“You never called me last night to tell me how it went. It’s barely six o’clock, how long have you been home from work sleeping?”
I held myself up by my elbows and stared at Char for a moment before tears sprung out of me like a loose fire hydrant.
Last night’s events and this morning’s calamity poured out of me in somewhat audible intervals. I wasn’t sure at what point Char had squeezed onto the couch and wrapped an arm around me, but I was grateful.
“I carried this on for much longer than I should have. I avoided the truth because I was afraid to either lose my job or lose him and consequently lose focus during one of the biggest moments of my career.” I blinked in confusion. “What kind of sick joke is it that all of those things happened anyway?”
She scrunched her nose. “That is kind of funny.”
“Char, what am I going to do?”
“You’re going to start by having some real food.” Char stood and walked to the kitchen. “Then we’re going to get online and find you work ASAP.”
I scoffed. I didn’t want to justfind work. Obviously, that would be the appropriate course of events: lose a job, find another, pay rent, live. But how long would I need to keepworkingthese mediocre jobs to prove that I was capable of so much more?
“Until you’re dead.” Char approached me with a cup of hot tea.
“I have got to stop talking to myself.” I shook my head. “Hey maybe there’s something to that party planning hotline idea…”
“A what?”
“Never mind; no one was around to hear that one.” I half-joked.
“You have nothing in your freezer and I don’t know how long those leftovers have been in your fridge, so I put on some pasta.”
I nodded.
“Alright, I came here straight from work so I need to go home to feed my pets. Please promise me you’ll go to sleep as soon as you’ve eaten.”
“I won’t have much of a choice; I’ve slept a total of three hours in the last two days.”
After Char left, I swallowed down most of my dinner but there was no way I could sleep. At nearly ten o’clock, I was still staring up at the dark ceiling in my bedroom listening to the unwavering pattering at my window. Deciding to endure it rather than tune it out, I pulled aside my drapes and opened the window, breathing in the mist penetrating the screen.
“Useless,” I groaned. Heartache struck again as I pictured his face. I wanted to hate him for not giving me the chance to explain in private, for shutting me down, for humiliating me.
But instead, some low, pathetic part of me just ached for him.
I inhaled deeply, pushing down the doubt, and let out a shaky breath.
This was a tremendously bad idea. But I saw no other way to get through the night, especially when my anger and adrenaline to set my record straight was so high.
