He wanted me to stay, obviously. I don’t know what I expected him to do or say, but when he told me not to go it made me want to go even more.
“Tessie, you can’t,” he said.
“I’ve already accepted the job.”
“Then un-accept it. You can’t leave now. After all this time? Please.” He hadn’t begged, just firmly requested I stay. Somehow, I stayed strong. I’d already made a choice and I adamantly stuck to it.
“You’re being stubborn now,” he said accusingly. “You’d choose a job over us?”
“What if we don’t work out and I pass this job up for nothing?”
“I’m not some random stranger, Tessie,” he snorted. “I always thought once we got together, we’d be together forever. Don’t you feel that way too?”
I had, once, when I was much younger and thought I wanted different things from life.
“If it’s not me you want, who is it?”
“Then why don’t you come with me, if you’re so committed to us?” I asked the question with only the slimmest ray of hope in my heart. He had a successful studio here in Boston, not exactly something you can pick up and move. Not overnight.
“Because I love my job and you hate yours. How can you still be there after the last couple of months?” I could hear the edge returning to his voice.
“Why not move the studio? I don’t have a choice where I work, but you do.”
“But you do have a choice,” he began, taking my hands in his. “What about that consulting business you always said you wanted to start one day? You’ve done great work advertising both my business and Birch’s for Kendra. I get compliments all the time. I’ve got a list of people who would hire you right away. In fact,” he squeezed my hands, bringing them up to his lips. “I want you to put your office in my studio for now, just until you can find your own space.”
My own consulting business? No more Marty or corporate crap or people like always-perky Savannah. Working for the clients I chose on the projects I chose… the idea was tempting but I couldn’t let it seduce me. It was a risky move, one that could black-list me in the world of marketing, making it difficult to get a new job if my business failed. I couldn’t let myself commit career suicide. “You expect me to work my ass off for two months, produce a fantastic end result, and then scoff at the reward? How can you ask me to sacrifice this?”
The next words out of his mouth were still haunting me, hours later: “One way or another, you’re sacrificing something, Tess.”
There was nothing mean or aggressive in those words, and yet they still stung. They cut more deeply than anything else, shouting including. As I heard him repeat those words over and over in my head, I sunk deeper into my bath bubbles.
With Kendra not answering my calls, I knew I was in the dog house with her as well. I’d done a real bang up job on both of my friendships in one stupid night. I left her a message anyway, hoping to at least keep one bridge intact.
I called my parents before it got too late, asking for a ride to Logan. I couldn’t admit that I’d sat on the information for two whole weeks, feigning indecision, so I lied and said it was a last-minute move. They were a bit surprised but went along with it despite any suspicions they might’ve had.
Lucy was next on my long list, saved for later in the evening since I knew she’d still be awake.
“I’m so excited for you, Tess,” she said sincerely. “You must be psyched right now. Just promise I can come out to visit you. I’ve never been to Chicago before and I’d love to see the Sears Tower and Wrigley Field and that stuff.”
“Anytime.”
“Maybe I’ll get the gang together to take a road trip out there. Kendra and Grant, me and Brenna, Christian and his girlfriend… I’m sorry, I can’t remember her name. What was it again?”
“He’s… single again,” I said simply. “But who’s Brenna?”
“The vet! We’ve been seeing each other for almost a month now, can you believe that? She’s awesome and even helped me clean all the cats’ ears last night. I want you to meet her sometime. I think you’d really like her.”
“I’d love to meet her,” I smiled, genuinely happy. So my sister could do relationships better than I could, so what? “I hope you can come out to visit. It’d be nice to see my only sister while I’m away.”
While I’m away. I kept using that phrase, like I was headed on vacation instead of moving away indefinitely. In my heart, I suppose, I knew I didn’t want to live there for the rest of my life, so maybe that’s where it came from. But this wasn’t college, where you have an expiration date and then you move home again when it’s over. As the Vice President of a major company—in its headquarters, no less—you didn’t just leave in three, four, five years because your time is up.
No. You stay as long as they want you, with your hand waving above your head for that next rung on the ladder. Because, once you’ve left everyone else behind in your dust, that’s all that’s left. It is the kind of change that could last a lifetime.
Before I hung up with Lucy, we worked out the details for her to ship me the boxes on the company’s dime. She was more than happy to help. Being with someone special was a good look for my typically troubled younger sister.
That night, I couldn’t sleep so I stayed up to pack my life into moving boxes. I lined up all the boxes of my shoes, clothes, DVDs, and books on one wall and clearly marked the pile ‘To Ship.’ I left everything that was too big to ship behind, including my television and DVD player, since the new place was fully furnished. I decided to leave the furniture for my landlord to sell and recoup any rent he lost in my sudden evacuation. He wasn’t thrilled, but said it would serve as a good consolation prize. I cringed at the expression, a tiny jab into my open wound from my fight with Christian.
Once I gathered all the essentials to bring on the plane, I climbed into my storage space and pulled out my suitcase—big enough to fit everything, small enough to carry on. I’d spent many a journey with this bag in tow, back and forth to college every summer, spring, and winter break. I couldn’t remember the last time I opened it up, since Prime’s busy schedule hadn’t afforded me much time for a long vacation. Most of my trips were weekend getaways and required one large duffel bag for the duration. It could be a few days before my stuff arrived in Chicago, so I had to pack enough suits and underwear and hair care products to survive. This was a job for the big guns.
I left Christian’s things exactly where he’d first put them. I couldn’t quite bring myself to remove that last sign that he’d been here, that we’d really had our brief time together, here within these walls. Thinking about him, I tossed clothes aimlessly into the suitcase and zipped it up.
I collapsed into my bed around three in the morning, squeezed in a handful of hours’ sleep, and then began the arduous task of dragging my tired butt in and out of the shower. I kept my mind on positive things, forced myself to sing “There’s No Business Like Show Business” in the shower, and even spritzed myself with my happiest-smelling perfume.
In the mirror now, staring at myself, I faltered for a moment. I thought about another pep talk, a ‘Get over him and get your butt to Chicago’ talk, but it didn’t feel right.
Instead, I took a deep breath, promised myself a good cry in my brand new whirlpool bathroom in that ‘swanky’ apartment, and turned my back on the mirror. The pain was still an open wound, which I knew would heal in time. It had to. In the meantime, I just had to get through one day at a time.
But more importantly, I had to get myself to the airport.
I drove to my parents’ house to leave my car and get a lift to the airport. They were going to arrange the sale of my car and send me the money in time, so I parked it in the garage. I transferred my two suitcases to the back of my dad’s mini-SUV. My mother stood on the porch steps, discreetly wiping away the occasional tear.
When she finally spoke, she did not do as much to placate my rising doubts, however. She attacked my reluctance wit
h her usual grace and style not unlike a battering ram. “This is what you’ve always wanted. Buck up and go get it.”
I managed a half-grin, then confirmed that yes, I was going to go out there and take what I wanted from this job, from this company, and from Chicago.
“You know, I thought I could do it all, once,” my mother said in a rare moment of honesty. “Family, marriage, career. All of it. They tell you that you can in this country. But I admire you for making the choice that I never could.”
“What are you saying, Mom?”
“I don’t regret you girls, if that’s what you’re after,” she laughed. “Of course not. I mean, if I had it all to do over again…” She trailed off in that infuriating way of hers, just before saying the most important thing. Just like the day my college acceptance letter had arrived in the mail and she’d called me at school: “Your letter came today, I opened it, and…” I’d begged her for the rest. That was about half as frustrating as this current moment.
“What, Mom? What would you have done if you could do it over?” Sometimes asking was the only way to get those final words.
“I would have stayed home and raised you,” mom said, looking me right in the eyes. My mother regretted trying to be two people at once. “I suppose I still did raise you girls. But if I could do it again, I’d want it to be my only job.”
“Does dad know about this?”
“What difference does it make? I had to work to put clothes on your back, in the early days. I had to keep the job whether I wanted to or not. I just felt lucky that I had a career I actually enjoyed.”
I’d heard that before. “Well, I guess at least I’m good at what I do at Prime, right?”
She nodded. “The best, my Tessa. The very best. Just do me one favor, all right?” She waited for my reaction, then went ahead. “Promise me you’ll do what I couldn’t do. Go out there and follow your heart. You deserve this happiness. Enjoy it.”
Stunned, not quite sure how to respond, I simply nodded and smiled. Halfway back to the car, I stopped. “Mom?” I turned back to her with another tight hug. “Am I doing the right thing?”
She looked me in the eye. “What does your heart say?” I hesitated. No answer felt right on my lips. “There’s no right or wrong choice, honey. The only thing that matters is that it’s yours.”
“Ready to go?” my dad asked from the driver’s seat. I nodded to him, left my mother with one more hug, and slipped into my seat. In a way, it was probably a blessing that Kendra or Christian wouldn’t have to see me march off toward the departure gate, leaving them behind. Still, leaving with my parents almost made me feel like I was sneaking off.
We got there much quicker than I expected, since traffic headed into town wasn’t bad at that particular early morning hour. Dad dropped me off, getting out of the car to help me with the bags and then giving me a hug and kiss.
“I’ll be back, Dad,” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “It’s just a job. The rest of my life is still here.”
I’d meant the words as comfort but they sounded empty, forced. My father covered with a smile. “Of course, Tessa. Of course.”
I smiled against the tears in my eyes, knowing they would pass with time. “I’ll miss you. Thanks for the ride.”
Just as I reached the door, Dad called after me and I turned. He was sitting in the car with the window rolled down, shouting to me.
“Should I drive away?”
I hesitated. What was this all about?
“Just want to be sure.” He waited for my answer, leaning way across the passenger seat to see me more clearly through the open window. “Well?”
“Bye, Dad.” I waved, committed to my decision. But, since change is a very scary thing and pain makes it seem that much scarier, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to jump back in that car.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Operating on Tess Time, I cushioned extra time into my day so I wouldn’t miss my flight—maybe too much time. I picked up my boarding pass then headed to Dunkin Donuts for coffee and a bagel. I ate my breakfast at one of the little tables there, thumbing through the latest issue of People to kill the extra time. I checked my email on my BlackBerry: a company-wide announcement from Marty about my promotion and relocation; a wave of emails from my colleagues wishing me good luck; one from Savannah apologizing for the previous day’s outburst, with no less than seven smiley faces; and two spam emails for Viagra. I deleted those, since I felt my penis needed no enhancing at the present moment.
Dunkin Donuts was busy at that time of the morning, with employees and passengers passing through the coffee line before scurrying off. A few people with spare time—like me—took the time to get some work done or relax with a cup of coffee. A family of five sat down together, all packed for a vacation in their initialed LL Bean luggage. Two girls and a boy—just like us growing up. Their mother and father sat together, talking and laughing over cups of coffee. Every so often, he tucked her hair behind her ear or she squeezed his arm affectionately. Their children—a range of ages around four to ten—shared crayons and colored together.
An older couple sat at the table behind them, finishing the crossword from the Boston Globe. She controlled the pen, but he adamantly defended his answers, pointing at the empty squares. His wife smiled at him with the kind of amusement that comes from a long, happy life with the man you love.
A troop of eager business men and women paced back and forth across the food court with their black rolling suitcases, gabbing on high-tech phones the size of laptops. One man shouted into the receiver, another whispered frantically behind his hand, and a third buttered someone up, laughing a little too loudly. A woman nearby clung to her coffee cup, weathering a screaming fit that crackled through the receiver loud enough for me to hear several seats away. That could’ve been me, a slave to Marty Bensen and pals.
That would be me, I corrected myself. If not now, one day soon. I checked my phone automatically to make sure I got reception out here—just in case someone was trying to locate me.
I looked from the family to the woman, now pacing the tiled walkway between our gate and the next. I’d made my choice, now I had to live with it. I was now stuck with time on my hands to think about that choice.
I needed to walk it off, I decided, so I killed my last half hour in the duty-free shops, tugging my rolling suitcase behind me. “I love Boston” tshirts, plush lobsters, stacks of the book Make Way for Ducklings, coffee mugs with text written in a Boston accent. If these items were found in an archaeological dig one day, future generations might think us pointless in our existence, or highly obsessed with material goods. Still, these were the pieces of my hometown. I bought myself a plush lobster keychain to always remind me of that, no matter how long I spent in Chicago.
On the way to security, I took a trip to the ladies’ room—a precautionary measure so I wouldn’t have to go in that tiny airplane bathroom. I strapped my laptop bag to my rolling suitcase and dragged it all behind me toward the bathroom. It was empty, so I cruised all the way to the last stall, the handicapped one, where I could easily fit my luggage and still have room to maneuver around a toilet. I honestly don’t know why they don’t make the bathroom stalls bigger in airports. If you can’t leave your luggage unattended, it has to fit in there with you. Shouldn’t they be more accommodating?
If I could sacrifice half my life to follow my career, they could sacrifice one stall to make enough room for women to pee comfortably.
Hadn’t I sacrificed enough to get here? Well, not to get to the bathroom of Logan Airport, but to get to this brand new stage of my life. It hadn’t all been smooth sailing from point A to point B—or point E, as was probably more accurate by now. I sacrificed things my friends would never let get away from them: love, family, romance, weekends. But here I was, passing up on the one thing I never knew I wanted for the only thing I’d ever dreamed about. Why did it feel so empty?
I washed my hands in the sink, catching a glimpse of
my face in the mirror. Twin trails of mascara raced down my cheeks to get to my chin. I hadn’t felt the warmth of the tears. I didn’t know I’d been crying. I cleaned myself up, straightened my spine, and yelled at myself in the mirror. Old Tess doesn’t cry over stupid things beyond her control, right? She makes decisions and she goes after them.
Eventually, when I sufficiently drained enough minutes from the clock, I wandered over to security and got in line. Then, with nothing new to look at or read, I was left alone with my thoughts. I filled the space with activity the best I could. I handed over my boarding pass, took of my shoes, took out my laptop, emptied my pockets, and loaded everything on the scanner belt like a good airline passenger. I walked through the metal detector, got my requisite body scan, and then started to put myself back together.
“Excuse me, miss?”
I turned to see the baggage scanner staring back at me. He was a heavy set man, balanced on a stool in front of the x-ray screen. I could see my bag peeking out from under the scanner and knew he was looking for me.
“We’re going to need to search your luggage. Do we have your permission to do that?” He nodded to a second security worker, who snapped on a pair of latex gloves and headed for my suitcase. The second man, a leaner version of his coworker, moved my bag off to a side table and got to work. He unzipped every pocket and began pulling out my belongings one by one, tossing them into a bucket.
“Um… sir?” He turned, a scowl on his face. “What exactly are you looking for? Is this a random search?”
“Ma’am, please be patient.” He pulled out my underwear and bras, my shoes, and even my “lady accessories” without so much as a flinch. If there was an exploding tampon in my luggage, this guy would find it for sure. After a few more moments searching, he pulled out something metal. “A-ha! This must be what set it off.”
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