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All of the jobs I applied for turned me down without a second thought. I couldn’t throw my name into the pot without being laughed at, scorned, or generally turned down. And just to test my theory, I started applying to fast-food chains. I applied for retailing positions in some of the major shopping malls in the area.
Those jobs had no issues calling me in for an interview. But the jobs that pertained in any way to event planning were quick to back away from me.
I lay there in bed Wednesday afternoon with silent tears streaming down my face. I hadn’t cried this much in my entire life. My prospects in the whole of New York City were nil, it seemed. Even after branching out Monday and calling up places in SoHo and tapping into the Hamptons and even Queens on Tuesday, there was nothing. It seemed as if Vivien Brant had run her mouth so fucking much that the whole of New York City knew my name.
Knew of all the false sins on my behalf that she shouted from her rooftop.
My degree was worthless in this place. My dream was worthless in the middle of Manhattan. And while I had considered going back to waitressing to pay the rent, it would still only be short term. I wouldn’t be happy. I’d still have to consider moving if it meant getting my dream back up off the ground. I’d waited tables while working on my degree, but that was still me working toward my dream.
Not replacing my dream with it.
With nothing to look forward to, waitressing seemed like a soulless job. Pointless, with no chance of ever moving forward. Even if I could spin it into a managerial position with a restaurant, that wasn’t what I wanted to do. My heart and soul bled for the chance to plan events. Weddings. Parties. Birthdays. Anniversary dinners.
That was where my passion lied.
“I don’t want to give up,” I whispered through my tears.
The issue was that this city had given up on me.
I slowly rose up from my bed and walked over to my window. I pulled it open and cocked myself onto my bed, staring out at the sliver of New York City I was afforded from my bedroom window. I looked out over the horizon, over the sunlight that draped along the concrete jungle. It was a city that had chewed me up and spat me back out, right onto the concrete for people to walk all over. I had been given many chances. My job with Nathaniel. James’s parents’ party. And had I not let my emotions and my actions get the best of me, all of those opportunities might have worked.
I didn’t want to think of Ray as a mistake. As a regret. But...
I could never regret him.
I shook my head. Not him. Never him. But the circumstances under which we met? Yes. Had I known they were going to ruin my entire life’s plan, I might have second-guessed things. Kept a lid on how I felt on the island with him. I might have pressed him away from that kiss, insisting that he finish things with Emeline before hopping into something with someone else.
I put my head in my hands. I didn’t know what to think anymore. There was only one thought bursting forth through the clutter and the thoughts of Ray and the emotions that kept pushing tears over the crest of my eyes.
There’s always another city.
I sighed. I knew my brain was trying to help. And technically, it was right. There were plenty of massive cities where I could start fresh. Cities I knew Vivien could never survive or thrive in. There was Atlanta and Miami. Los Angeles and San Diego. There was Raleigh and DC and St. Paul. I could flourish in those cities. Start from scratch. Waitress while I earned my name in the event planning field.
And I wouldn’t see the ghost of Ray around every corner.
I drew in a deep breath and closed the curtain to my window. This city had become haunted with his memory. Every time I turned a corner, I saw him in the face of someone. Every time I heard even the rumbling of a deep, solid voice, I turned to see if it was him. And every time I saw that it wasn’t him, everything felt a little colder. A little emptier.
Mocking the way my heart really felt.
Montana.
I paused at that thought. I hadn’t been back to see my grandparents in years. Not since I took on my event planning degree and started working more than I could stand. I counted back the months to when I had last seen them. I bobbed my head in the air as I closed my eyes.
Holy hell, it had been five years since I’d seen them.
I knew their door was always open for me. They always told me every time I left. And Montana would be a nice place to transition in. The quiet. The rolling countryside. The smell of manure in the morning and the crickets chirping at night.
My mind rushed back to the cabin in the woods. My naked body pressed against Ray’s. I remembered telling him about it and how taken he seemed to be with my adventures in Montana.
No ghost of Ray in Montana.
That, I wasn’t sure of. Just the smallest memory of me talking with him about it linked the two together. But I needed out of this city. I wouldn’t be able to make the most of my money if I stayed in New York. I looked toward my bedroom door. I looked beyond it and over to the curtain that hung to cordon off Lydia’s room.
She’d covered my half of the rent more times than I could count. She deserved to have her own room. So I picked up the phone and called my grandmother.
“Petal, is that you?” she asked.
I almost broke down at the sound of my nickname. Petal. She and my grandfather were the only two people in the world who called me that. And the sound of her voice was so comforting and so soothing.
My breath hitched, and I knew she had heard it.
“Petal, are you there?” my grandfather asked.
“Speakerphone? Really?” I asked, sniffling.
“You’re crying, dear. What’s going on?” she asked.
“Who am I coming after?” he asked.
I giggled breathlessly as I wiped at my tears.
“I’ll admit, the city hasn’t been going so well,” I said.
“Are you okay? Do you need money?” my grandmother asked.
“We’ve got some in savings we can send you,” my grandfather said.
I broke down at their kindness and cried to them over the phone. I sobbed so hard my shoulders shook. I cried so deeply it made me cough. I couldn’t breathe through my nose, and I had to go blow it, using a washcloth instead of tissues.
“It’s okay. We’re right here, Petal. Talk to us. What’s going on?” my grandmother asked.
“I just don’t think this place is for me. I don’t think my dream is here, Nannie,” I said through hiccups.
“Then, you come stay in this room we’ve got for you until you figure things out. Okay?” my grandfather asked.
“I’m so sorry I disappointed you,” I said.
“Hey, hey, hey. You listen to me now, Petal. You’ve disappointed no one. You stayed afloat for well over five years in the hardest city in this country to make a decent living in. We’re proud of you. And your room is waiting for you if you want it,” my grandfather said.
“It hasn’t changed a bit. I’ll get fresh sheets on it,” my grandmother said.
“And I’ll cook up that lasagna you like so much. Would you like that?” he asked.
I nodded softly and groaned. “Oh my gosh, that sounds amazing.”
“You can stay as long as you like. You hear me?” my grandmother asked.
“We aren’t taking no for an answer. Do you have money for a plane ticket?” my grandfather asked.
“Yeah. I—I do,” I said.
“Are you lying to us?” he asked.
“No, I’m not.” I sighed.
“Then get yourself home. Got it?” my grandmother asked.
Home.
I didn’t even know what that word meant anymore. Which was why I needed to go back. I needed to establish and redefine the feeling of “home” again.
“Vee?”
Lydia’s voice came from my doorway, and I looked up. I saw tears in her eyes, and I quickly got off the phone with my grandparents, who were eagerly awaiting an email holding my itinerary so they knew when to pick me up from the airport. I gave Lydia a sorrowful look before she strode toward me, wrapping me up into her arms.
The two of us lay down on my bed, both of us not saying what we knew was true.
“Are you really going to give up on this city so soon?” she asked breathlessly.
“It’s been five years, Lydia. I don’t have any prospects here anymore. You know how hard it’s been for me ever since that stupid wedding. You’ve watched it,” I said.
“But Montana? What’s there that you can’t get here?”
I sighed. “Healing, Lydia. Healing is out there, and I need it so badly.”
She wrapped me back up into her arms, and I held her close. My best friend since college. My roommate of several years. We cried the tears we needed to cry before we sat up, and I saw the understanding in her features.
“I’ll support you in whatever you need,” she said.
“I really appreciate it, Lydia. And I promise you, I’ll give you the best reference to any potential new roommates,” I said.
“I think I’m gonna fly solo for a while, but only if you promise to come back and visit me. None of this relying on video calls or whatever. It’s not the same as having you here.”
I nodded. “Once I can mend and figure out where I’m going from here, I will. Definitely.”
“Good.”
She hugged me tight, and I returned the squeeze. While the moment was sad, I knew what I had to do. I knew I’d never heal or flourish in this place. It was time to pack myself up—or at least my clothes—and start moving out of this hellhole. I hated leaving Lydia behind. We had become great friends over the years. But friendship didn’t pay the rent or bills. It didn’t give me a savings or foreshadow any decent retirement.
“I love you so much,” I whispered.
“I love you, too, Vee. My door is open anytime,” Lydia said.
High society could take a lesson or two from my grandparents and Lydia. On love, on life, on respect, and on graciousness.
