Chapter
Fifty-Two
Sawyer
According to the clock on the dashboard, I had been sitting in my Jeep for exactly eight minutes. My palms were sweaty, and my heart was racing. I had never resigned from a job without a backup plan, not that I had much experience with quitting. In college, I worked as a night stocker at a grocery store to make ends meet, but I already had my position at CPS lined up. I always had a plan, but I knew I needed to go through with this. I had enough savings to last through the next six months, but the anxiety of touching those funds made me feel as if my lungs were in a vise, making it hard to breathe. I could do this. I had to.
I took a deep breath, held it for a count of four, and then released it. I had discussed this with my new therapist, Susie. While she didn’t tell me what to do, she encouraged me to trust my instincts, since I had already taken the necessary steps, like double-checking my finances. The decision was made, and my lengthy list of pros and cons was evidence of that. I had tucked the list into my purse as a reminder in case I got to the parking lot and lost my nerve. My resignation letter and two weeks’ notice were folded neatly inside a white envelope on my passenger seat.
I took another deep breath and jumped into action! I turned off my Jeep, slung my crossbody bag over my shoulder, grabbed the envelope, and speed-walked across the parking lot like I was competing in the Olympics. I yanked open the glass door with a little too much force, my hair blowing back in the rush. I needed to do this quickly before my courage faltered. I didn’t stop at my desk before heading to my supervisor’s office. I dropped the envelope on her desk before I could second-guess myself. Jill turned from her computer screen, her eyes widening as she took me in.
“Sawyer?” I reached out with a trembling hand to push the envelope toward her.
“Th-this is my two-week’s notice. I’ve decided to make some changes. If it’s possible, I’d like to introduce the kids to their new worker.” I stumbled over my words, but I wanted to ensure that the transition for the kids was as seamless as possible.
My heart raced in my chest. Those speed walkers may be onto something with their cardio. Jill adjusted her glasses, reached for the envelope, and opened it, glancing up twice as if trying to gauge my sanity. Her eyes skimmed the two pages before rising to meet mine.
“Yes, of course. We will be sad to see you go, but I feel confident you will make a difference wherever you go.” Jill looked at me as if she were proud, and I expressed my thanks as I made my way back to my desk. The aftermath of the adrenaline rush still made my hands tremble, but I settled in and pulled up my calendar. I had dozens of children to see in the next two weeks, and I wanted to tell each of them how special they were.
Then I paused, realizing something had shifted within me. There was a lightness in my chest, a fragile spark of hope that everything would be okay.