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“So, are you all settled into your new place?” Sarah asks, interrupting my staring contest with the workers comp poster on the wall in the break room.
Sarah is sipping on her tea while I wrap my hands around my coffee mug as if to gather strength from its warmth.
“As settled as I’ll ever be,” I reply dismally, thinking about the ugly tile with dirty grout on the kitchen counters and the cramped dingy tub.
It still hurts daily to think of Will, and I’m adjusting to my new commute. It’s become routine for me to cry on my way to and from work. There, because I have to go. On my way home, it’s because I’m thoroughly trampled and dread having to go back the next day. My face is drawn and pinched because I’m either crying or on the verge of tears every minute of the day. I don’t even know what I’m crying about sometimes.
“When’s the housewarming party?”
“You’re kidding right?” Sarah could be so dense sometimes. I love how she always sees the bright side of things, but sometimes it’s just so annoying.
“No, why?” she asks, confused.
“Sarah, this isn’t like when you and Jason bought your little mansion in Rancho Bernardo. I didn’t move because I wanted to, and I didn’t move into an estate. I moved because I got dumped by my fiancé,” I snapped. “I’d be lucky to fit five people into my little apartment. Who would I invite anyway?” I ask, not expecting an answer.
I take another sip of my coffee and look up to see Sarah staring at me through confused eyes.
“Are you mad at me?” she asks quietly.
“What do you mean? I’m not mad at you. Why would I be mad?”
“Well, you could’ve fooled me,” she mutters.
I can’t think of anything that I could have done to make her think I’m angry with her. I’ve been a little distant maybe. Okay, who am I kidding? I’ve been downright depressed for a while now, but I do a really good job of keeping it to myself. My eyes widen. Oh my God. Her bridal shower is coming up. I was supposed to meet with her yesterday so we could go shopping for outfits, and I totally flaked. I never even called her back.
“Oh my gosh, Sarah. I’m so sorry. I totally forgot.”
I’d spent the day in my pajamas watching TV. It was actually a nice sunny day out, but I just didn’t feel like getting dressed or taking a shower. Now that I think about it, that’s not the first time I’ve flaked. I usually text her though, at least.
“You never called me back. I don’t blame you for being miserable, but it’s not fair for you to shut everyone out.”
I may have earned them, but her words feel like a slap in the face. I don’t know how to respond.
“I’ve tried so hard to say all the right things and be there for you. Nothing helps. You’ve been walking around in your own little personal black fog for months, but when I ask you what’s wrong, you say you’re fine.”
“Sarah, in case you haven’t noticed, my life is kind of the pits right now.” I lower my voice and glance quickly around the room. There’s only one other person sitting in a corner across the way with his back to us and his head buried in a newspaper. “My fiancé dumped me like a piece of trash, and you’re my only friend. What am I supposed to be happy about?”
“Have you ever wondered why I might be your only friend?”
My mouth drops open. So I forgot about our little shopping trip. I didn’t do it on purpose.
A look of discomfort passes over her face as she continues. “Alexis, someone’s gotta tell you this. I don’t mean to be cruel, but I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t say this. You are very negative.”
“What are you talking about? You would be too if you were me. Trust me,” I retort. “I just wasted seven years of my life in a dysfunctional relationship. Everyone else I know is getting engaged or married and I’m about to turn twenty-five and I’m alone. I’m broke. I live in a dumpy apartment on the bad side of town. Hmmm... let’s see what else. And I’m fat,” I hiss back at her.
“You’re so busy being miserable that you can’t even see how lucky you actually are.”
This has to be a joke. I roll my eyes. “Okay Sarah, enlighten me. Tell me how incredibly fortunate I am.”
She sighs. “First of all, you are not fat. Gaining five pounds or whatever does not make you fat. And, okay, so maybe you lost your fiancé, but you are smart and pretty and you are still young. You might be struggling, but you’re making it on your own. Do you realize how huge that is? And you don’t have to work here forever. You haven’t even tried to see what else is out there.”
“Well, it’s easy for you to say. Your life is perfect. After you marry Jason, you don’t even have to work here unless you want to. I, on the other hand, am pretty well stuck. I mean, what else am I qualified to do but this?” I know I’m being a brat but it’s true, and I’m so bitter about all of it that, a ball of anger swells in the pit of my stomach.
“You act like you’re the only one who has ever had problems,” Sarah says in an incredulous tone. “We all have problems. I’m older than you are, and Jason didn’t just fall into my lap. I kissed a lot of frogs before I finally found my prince, and this job is not that bad.”
Her last boyfriend cheated on her for almost a year before she found out, and if anyone could like a job like this, it’s Sarah. Call her a bitch and she says thank you for your time before hanging up. I scowl when I have to interrupt mountains of work to sign another birthday card, but she’s in charge of the birthday committee. Sarah is the office Miss Congeniality, which is why she’s always in the know about office gossip and lately, a lot of that gossip is about me and “What’s wrong with Alexis these days?” Like a true friend, she hasn’t said a thing to anyone. We sit on either side of the table locked in awkward silence, and I welcome the diversion of a co-worker entering the break room to wash out a dish. We follow her with our eyes, watching as she dries off her bowl and exits the breakroom followed by the guy reading the paper.
My chest tightens as a horrible realization presses all the air out of my lungs. I’m toxic. It’s not exactly what she said, but that’s what it is. My fiancé had to plot an escape. Our wedding plans weren’t good enough. Oh, I told him I thought about it, but not once did I ever entertain the thought of moving to Anderson, and I think he knew it because all I see is what I can’t do. I’m the type of person who sees the shadows before I notice the sun, and it makes me mean, bitter, and worst of all, jealous. I wish Sarah’s bridal shower was mine, and it’s painful watching her turn into a princess while I turn into an old maid.
I can barely swallow past the lump forming in my throat and I can feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes. I can hardly get the words out. “I’m sorry you feel that way and I’m sorry that I’ve been such a bad friend.” I gather up my empty creamer container and Splenda packets, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll see you later,” I say to her and walk out of the break room.
My fiancé is gone and I’ve managed to screw things up with my only friend here, so what does that leave me with? Work. I can’t face my desk. I can’t face those angry customers yelling at me. I slip into the bathroom, unnoticed. I don’t have to go, but I don’t know what else to do. I lock myself in a stall and fight against the hot tears that have already started to flood, bracing myself for another long day in the trenches of injury claims and collision deductibles.
I take a deep breath, open the door and wash my hands. My fingers catch on a nest of tangles as I try to tame my disheveled hair. My skin is ashen under the fluorescent lights, and I’m caught off guard by the lifelessness in my eyes. At this point, I’m basically a zombie who hasn’t decomposed yet, one who eats potato chips and ice cream instead of human flesh. Is this what I wanted to be when I grew up? I stare hard at my reflection in the mirror, contemplating the unfortunate series of events that got me here.
The reality is, I never wanted to be anything. All I ever knew was that I didn’t want to be a teacher, and it has nothing to do with the notoriously low pay teachers are assigned. I just never felt I could ever be smart or confident enough to stand in front of a classroom and teach anyone anything of value. Kids can sense fear and it would be dripping off me the way melting ice cream oozes down the side of an ice cream cone on a hot day. I had thoughts of being a ballerina or a writer, as lots of little kids do, but those are more like fantasies than actual career ideas. Nobody ever told me those were things to be. I’d make a good secretary, but it’s not something you aspire to, just like nobody dreams about being a claims adjuster.
I go to my supervisor’s office and do something I’ve never done before. The work day hasn’t even officially started yet, but I tell Jan I’m not feeling well and need to go home. There’s no way I can face this day. I’m all out of gas. I gather my things from my desk and leave the office amidst the whispers and questioning expressions of my coworkers. I catch Sarah’s eye for a brief second before she looks down.
Aimlessly, I exit the building in a daze. My freedom for the day granted, the only thing I want right now is to retreat to the safety of my bed. I can already feel myself curled into a ball, eyes closed, cool sheets pulled up to my neck. Irritated by the noise coming from my radio, I reach over to turn it off but pause as a chirpy, energetic voice pipes up.
“Don’t just dream about it, do it. Follow your dreams to the Chloe Dillon Modeling and Acting Center. Build confidence as you take classes in Modeling, Acting, and overall personal development.”
Spurred by defeat and eagerness for something more than this passionless life, the wheels in my head spin in the opposite direction. I can go home and assume the fetal position in bed, but then what? What will I do tomorrow...and the next day? I exit the freeway to turn around, anxiously making the ten minute drive in silence, my radio muted. I park my car and speed walk to the building, jabbing my finger on the up button repeatedly until the elevator doors open. Pressing the number fifteen, I wait impatiently while the elevator makes its way up, then make a beeline for the reception desk.
“Hello, my name is Alexis Conway and I’d like to sign up for the combo course.” A teenage girl and her mother turn around and glance at me. Oops. I didn’t realize I’d spoken so loudly. The music isn’t as loud as it was on orientation day.
She gives me a mildly amused smile and asks, “You’ve been to one of our orientation sessions then, right?”
“Yes, I have,” I reply more quietly.
She taps my name into her computer. “Okay, take a seat and I’ll have a consultant right with you.
“Thank you,” I say and sit in the waiting area. I look terrible, I can’t afford this and all they’re going to do is lie to me, but I don’t care anymore. Just five minutes later, Tami calls me back to her office. She opens the file on her desk and there they are again, my horrid Polaroids staring up at me.
“Welcome back, Alexis. We’re so glad you decided to sign up. Erin tells me you’re interested in the combo course.”
“Yep. I want the full experience. I want to learn about modeling and acting, and I need a confidence boost.” Please, let there be a class I can get into soon.
“Okay, we can get you started in a Tuesday/Thursday evening session next week. It’ll run from February to May and will start out with personal development, then move onto acting then modeling. We already have quite a few adults signed up for that session, so your timing couldn’t be better.”
“I’ll be using my credit card. Can I pay monthly?” Which is something I never do, but I can’t really afford the full $400 per month.
As I reach for my credit card, my hand is shaky. I’m having a difficult time removing it from its slot in my wallet. Maybe this is a sign. I shouldn’t be forking over money I don’t really have right now, but I ignore the doubt. Operating on pure instinct, I dig my finger harder into the slot, yanking out the card and breaking a nail in the process.
“Okay, I’ll go run your credit card. In the meantime, I’ll need you to fill out this packet then you’ll be on your way.”
Height. I stretch it to five-eight because models are supposed to be tall. Measurements, weight...ugh! Can I just write too much? At least it was the last time I weighed in. Then it goes into questions likely meant to analyze my personality, followed by questions about any previous modeling or acting experience, and what I would like to gain from taking the class. I write “HAPPINESS and CONFIDENCE” in big block letters then underline, it adding exclamation marks and a smiley face for good measure.
I know most of these modeling schools are considered a total scam, but I don’t feel scammed when I leave. I feel a little nervous about what I’m getting myself into, but mostly glad to be taking some action. I’ve done nothing but exist in misery for far too long. I need this. I turn up the radio volume loud and sing along as I drive home. Not even the sight of Valentine’s Day booths sprouting up on every corner selling red flowers and obnoxious pink balloons is enough to spoil my good mood. My life is going to change. It has to because if I have to suffer through another mental break, I may not make it out alive.
