I could change my number … again. But that means spending all afternoon conversing with some guy in a red polo shirt at the phone place and probably getting upsold on a plan I don’t need. Even if I did, he might get the new number, and then what?
Travis doesn’t stop. He doesn’t let things be. I could say goodbye a hundred times and it would mean nothing. I swallow the lump in my throat and throw off the sheet entirely, feeling far too hot and far too suffocated.
I’m going to have to keep blocking him forever.
The thought of him keeping tabs on me scares me to death. It’s what kept me up at night. He doesn’t take no for an answer. It was hard enough when we broke up. It didn’t seem like there was anywhere to go, and I ended up crashing with my mom until I could sign a lease.
The damn alarm sounds off just now. The wretched beeping is my savior. It keeps me from spiraling. Slamming my hand down, I remind myself of the same thing I’ve been saying for weeks now.
I need to stay positive.
That’s what I need to do.
Breakup or not, living with my mom or not, small house or not—wallowing in those feelings won’t get me where I need to go.
On the bright side, I have a new address. I’ve got enough money together for the deposit and the first month’s rent and I’m here, I’m doing it. My life might look a little plain, but it’s mine.
I drift on the bed for a few minutes, traveling through memories and emotions, a pillow between my legs as I stare aimlessly at the wall. As my toe meets the elastic band, I seethe. This fitted sheet is a real problem. When I get everything together again, I’m going to get a set of sheets that’s the right size for the mattress so it doesn’t come off in the middle of the frickin’ night.
That’s a good goal, and simple. I visualize moving down the aisle at Target, looking at the pastel hues of the sheets, everything in a neat row. I know they’re just sheets, but it’s the little things. At twenty-five years old, I’ve never lived by myself. It was always dorms or roommates … or Travis.
Life keeps coming and coming and coming and it hurts like hell, but at least a girl can get a new set of sheets.
Letting out a huff of a laugh, I open my eyes and hop out of the bed. My phone waits on my nightstand, plugged into its charger, and I pick it up without hesitation.
I have two text messages.
My heart pounds, thinking one of them might be from him. It might be a threat even. It wouldn’t be the first time. I swipe the screen and open them up as fearlessly as I can, only to find they’re from my friend Scarlet, and my mom.
The relief is palpable and I wish it wasn’t.
Scarlet messaged at the ass crack of dawn. She’s a good friend, but also a runner who doesn’t understand that not everyone wakes up at 6:00 in the morning to exercise. She’s also my hero because she got me my new job. Today I am a cocktail waitress. Which is far better than being a cashier at Travis’s pharmacy. Worlds better, in fact, because he wouldn’t dare set a foot in The Club.
* * *
Scarlet: Reminder, don’t be late and wear something sexy!! Higher tips that way, and you might meet someone ;)
* * *
I send her back a kissing emoji and heart eyes, then open the message from my mom.
* * *
Mom: Good luck today! Te amo, Braelynn <3
* * *
Braelynn: Te amo, Mama <3
* * *
I reply immediately to my mom, even if her message brings down the corners of my lips. She begged me not to move out. She loves me, wants to be both my best friend and a mother hen, but I need out. I need to stand on my own two feet. My mom would keep me home forever if she could. Especially after what happened with Travis. My father would understand if he were still here. I need space. I need independence. I love her dearly, but I need to be okay on my own.
Even if I’m not exactly truthful about the place I’ll be working. I said waitress … I just didn’t mention it was at The Club. There are rumors and gossip about that place. But they were hiring and Scarlet said she could get me in. She said they pay well and Lord knows I need to get back on my feet. My phone vibrates and I look at the screen to see my mom’s messaged me again with a thumbs-up emoji.
* * *
I love that she’s thinking of me. I can practically feel the luck suffusing the air around me, almost like I was still living with her. My mama is my hero. Always and forever.
Padding into my bathroom to shower, I run through the pep talk I’ve been practicing.
New life.
New apartment.
New job.
With both hands on the edge of the sink, I stare at my reflection. “Today is the first day of the rest of my life.”
It’s painful to start over, but discomfort is part of growth. I can handle anything that comes my way today. I will handle anything that comes my way today. Everything that came before makes me strong enough to do this.
My hands tighten on the edge of the granite counter.
And this time, it’s all mine. This is my shampoo and my shower and my hot water. All of which I paid for. Nobody else is choosing it for me or holding power over me with it. That sick, pricking chill plays at the back of my neck remembering how Travis did just that.
Biting down on my lower lip, I feel shame. It took me far too long to realize that to him, it was his money, so he could treat me however he wanted.
That was then. This is now.
This new job, a high-end cocktail waitress, as Scarlet called it, could turn out to be great. If I can figure out how to work the system like Scarlet says, I’ll have more money in my pocket and even more freedom.
I’ll get that new set of sheets. They won’t come off the corner of my mattress. Maybe I’ll even get a cute lamp to boot. I smile into the water as I scrub down my face, thinking about it. Smooth sheets and no tossing and turning at night. That’s what I’m aiming for. Peace and freedom. You know what? I can get those things. There’s nothing stopping me now.
The bathroom is about as barren as my bedroom, but I’ve got what I need to do my hair. A blow-dryer and a curler and hair spray and hours of practice. I spend more time than usual in front of the mirror. I won’t let Scarlet down and be late, but I’m showing up as the new version of me.
With plenty of concealer under my eyes.
When my hair’s perfect, I practice my polite smile into the mirror.
They’ll fall in love with you, Scarlet promised. It’s a pity how much that made me feel cherished. Just the thought of strangers loving me was enough to sway me into taking the job.
I stop my thoughts in their tracks, clicking off the curling iron. Positive thoughts only. I’m not going to think of my ex or the hard climb ahead of me, or the possibility I might fail out of this new job.
Nope. I’m going to succeed. I can’t keep running back to my mom’s house every time life gets hard. I need to build my own safety net, and it starts with this new job. It’s natural to be nervous about it. The stakes are high. Life keeps coming no matter what I do, so I just need to keep going. Day in and day out. All I have to do is survive.
I bypass the basket of laundry and stride to my closet. There’s one dress hanging inside, one that Scarlet helped me pick out. Staring at the pile of boxes, I roll my eyes. I know, I know. I need to unpack. At the top of my to-do list is the need to put away my clothes and make this place into a real home, instead of a temporary stopping place. This is my home. This is my new home, and my new life, and I’m going to be fine.