Chapter 2
Victoria
Well, that was that. I tried my best, did everything right, and my life was in shambles for it.
I sat at my little table by the window, enjoying a cup of coffee and the rain, and by enjoying I meant, rather, clutching the coffee cup so firmly I thought either the cup or my fingers would break, counting each raindrop so I didn’t lose my mind, which, decidedly, may have been less healthy than the regular definition of “enjoying a cup of coffee and the rain.”
Turned out I wasn’t good at being unemployed. Three in the afternoon and I would have had a strategy written out with plans for execution across all departments I was connected to. Instead I had a panic attack. Call me a workaholic, but I liked strategy outlines better.
I had my phone in front of me, waiting for responses—Bridget had told me she would take care of it all and that I could just relax, but I couldn’t possibly put that whole thing on her, not when we’d been work friends at most. Sure, she’d always been reliable and friendly, and she respected me in a way most people didn’t—I never felt like I had to prove myself despite being a woman in front of her—and she’d come to mind as the person most likely to help me back in my hometown, but only because nobody else would have helped me at all.
An assumption borne out by my own attempts to find anything further: a few messages sent to old family friends and the like, each one as painful as peeling my fingernails off, each one returning nothing.
And each one a mistake, because I could only assume that was how word got back, and my phone lit up with a call from Mom right as I had lifted my cup to my lips, and I choked on coffee.
After taking a second to cough and clear my throat in not the most dignified fashion, I faced down the phone like I would my executioner.
She must have known I was attending to messages rapidly all day. She’d know I ignored her call. Would if I had the strength. I clenched my jaw, and I picked up the phone.
“Mom—”
“I hear you’re coming home.”
“I’ve been considering my options, is all,” I lied. “Nothing concrete. I didn’t want to tell you before I had anything specific figured out.”
“It’s just as well you did,” she said, her voice light. “I knew you wouldn’t like Seattle.”
“Seattle—it’s lovely here, Mom, it’s just the job that didn’t—”
“We’ll get started with converting the office to a bedroom. It won’t be a long-term solution, but I hear you’re only looking for a place to land for a few months while you’re house-shopping.”
I wondered if finding an apartment had gone through the game of telephone to turn into house-shopping or if that was Mom trying to insert the idea into the narrative. “That won’t be necessary,” I said a little too quickly. “I’ve been looking into other places, it’s…”
“Don’t be daft,” she said with a short laugh. “We’re your family. It’s only reasonable.”
“Grandpa likes his quiet. I know he likes having me around, but I wouldn’t want to disturb him constantly. I’ll be in the neighborhood, but I’ll stay—”
“Victoria, please,” she scoffed. “I hear you’re moving at the end of the week. If you haven’t found something, you won’t find it that fast. We’ll have the office converted. Let us know when you have an arrival time.”
“I… I have found something,” I blurted. I didn’t know why. I guess I’d just book a hotel for a week while I went frantically searching. Mother would never let me hear the end of it if she found out I was in a hotel. But I didn’t have another way out. Mother was quiet for a second before she said,
“Have you?”
“It’s with a, er, a friend.”
“A friend, hm?”
I didn’t understand the tone in her voice. “An old friend, from work. Her name’s Bridget. She lives up in Merrimount.”
“Mm-hm.” She was quiet for a minute. “And you’d rather stay with your friend.”
My throat tightened. “I don’t want to feel like I’m a bother to anyone. Please. It’s for my own sake as much as anyone’s. It’s… er, well. It’s for my dignity. Things ended undignifiedly here, and I want to do this for myself. To help salvage my pride.”
She was quiet for a long time before she said, her voice oddly more cheerful now, sounding forced, “Well, you’ll be in the neighborhood to celebrate the holidays with us.”
“Yes—of course.” I’d have to find an excuse not to. If Bridget did help me find a place, maybe she had work she wanted done on her apartment. I could keep busy doing renovations. Mother would be more likely to respect sorry, I can’t make it, I’m doing too much hard work.
“Well, I’m glad for your friend Bridget, then,” she said, and my throat tightened. Mother was nosy. If she went pulling up information about Bridget, she’d find out I wasn’t living with her after all, and then what?
But for everything today was, Bridget remained a ray of light in the darkness, because another call came in, Bridget’s name on it. I laughed at the sheer serendipity. “Me too,” I said breathlessly. “She’s actually calling right now, so—”
“Well, go on, then,” Mother said, a strained tone in her voice, and I got in rushed goodbyes before I hung up, answering Bridget’s call.
“Hi—hello, this is Victoria.”
“Hi,” Bridget said, her voice sounding surprised. I’d been a little surprised by hers initially too—she sounded different than she had back in the office. More… relaxed? “Everything okay? You sound rushed.”
“I had just been in another call. It isn’t important. Is something the matter?”
She paused. “So, there’s a, uh… there’s this place.”
I sat up taller, my senses sharpening. Had she actually pulled off a miracle and gotten me in somewhere that quickly? “What kind of place?”
“Might be forward of me to suggest, but, uh. I’ve got a second bedroom. I don’t use it as much as I thought I would. Do you want to just stay here?”
I had never been anywhere near as grateful for anyone or anything as I was grateful for this woman right now. I waited, tempered my reactions, before I said, “If that’s an option, it would… work in my favor.”
“I can have it ready by Sunday morning, if you want to move in.”
“How much is the rent?”
“Nine hundred.”
“Nine hundred. Sure. I can pay you all of it upfront if you need.”
“Okay, let’s stop and breathe. You’re going to be okay. You don’t need to do all that. I’m moving out of this place in February, is the only catch, but—”
“That’s perfect. That works perfectly for me, I mean. Ideally by then I’ll have a new job and I’ll be able to move into a new place, get out of your hair—”
“Victoria, breathe.”
“I apologize.” I laughed nervously. “I’m normally more composed than this. Thank you. Honestly. I… don’t know what to say.”
“It helps me out too. Don’t worry about it. Um… so, tell me what you need for the apartment.”
I was not a crier. I was a fully grown woman. But I dabbed my eyes nonetheless, which were damp for reasons unbeknownst to me. “Just some of those snickerdoodles will be great.”
“Oh. Uh.” She paused. “You got it. All the snickerdoodles you like.”
∞∞∞
A cross-country drive with all my belongings packed into the car was not how I intended to spend the weekend, but here I was, feeling vaguely sickened and comforted at once in a strange combination as I drove through the familiar sights of my old hometown.
The GPS led me steadfastly onwards, through where all Seattle’s rain had given way to snow up here, even early in November, piled up on the sides of the road as I drove up to the neighborhood of Merrimount.
Didn’t really need the GPS, not when I’d visited some family friends who lived in Merrimount a million times, but I kept it on, just to make it feel like this wasn’t a place I knew like the back of my hand.
Bridget lived in a sleek new apartment complex at the end of the street, beautiful contemporary construction with a stylish post-industrial chic lobby, metal beams and exposed structural pillars melding with dark wood and glass and plenty of greenery, a cute little lounge area with access to an outdoor firepit and a touchscreen drinks machine.
I buzzed to go in the front doors, and I rolled my suitcase inside and into the elevator, up to the fourth floor, where Bridget’s door was the first on the left, and I steeled myself before I knocked.
I wasn’t a failure because I needed a roommate. I wasn’t a failure because I quit my job. I wasn’t a failure because I was moving back.
I knocked on the door, and there was a rustle from inside before it unlatched and swung open to where Bridget looked surreally the same as ever: a bit on the short side, almost a full head shorter than me, with big, blue eyes and an enviously smooth, warm complexion, long brown hair, wearing a soft yellow blouse and slacks.
She was so polished, well-kept—she had lash extensions and beautiful hair that clearly saw the salon frequently, a fresh rosy pink manicure, and applied her makeup far more expertly than I would if I weren’t going into an office regularly to be judged on my appearances.
Also, the place was packed with Christmas.
I hadn’t taken Bridget as the type to decorate first thing in November, but the low-lit living room behind her was dressed with a big Christmas tree, garland, stockings, tinsel and all, and even a soft jazz cover of Mariah Carey’s Christmas played from the room.
I could smell hot chocolate and cinnamon immediately, and it made my mouth water and my eyes water, for different reasons.
“Victoria,” she said, beaming. “Good to see you again. You must be exhausted.”
“Hi,” I said, a little awkward—not knowing where our friendship was, if we had any.
If I could hug her, or shake her hand, or not touch her at all—but luckily, she took the initiative, stepping across the threshold and putting her arms out, and I met her with a hug, squeezing her lightly.
“Thank you so much. It’s good to see you again, you look…
I mean, you look radiant. I can tell the independent work has been good for you. ”