Chapter 02
Whatever rose-coloured glasses I had on yesterday have been ripped off. Everything sucks. Nothing is going to plan. It’s days like today where I miss my old life. With my garage and nice car. My fancy espresso maker. My comfortable mattress.
I couldn’t relax no matter what I did last night and barely slept as a result. I’m out of coffee. And to top it all off, my car won’t start and I really need to get to the store for groceries. A woman can only eat so many stale crackers.
I slam the heel of my palm on the steering wheel over and over again, only stopping because now, on top of everything else, my hand and wrist hurt.
I take a deep breath, in through my nose and out through my mouth. “Get a grip, Ella,“
I scold myself. I turn the key one last time, and by some miracle my car comes to life. It’s making interesting sounds, but it’s on.
I hurry through my shopping, picking up essentials on autopilot. The cereal I like isn’t on sale anymore and the apples are small, but I find coffee for a good price, so it isn’t all bad. When I get back to the car, I cross my fingers and toes when I turn the key. The car starts after the third try. I may have to admit that the junky car I bought off some random guy at a random garage in a city I had never been to, is on its last leg. Maybe I’ll take my time and look for a nicer car. I can save up, take public transit when necessary. Walk whenever possible, something more appealing now that it’s spring.
Once I have the groceries away, I check my bank account, which is growing every month. It’s not a lot, but it’s all mine. Ethan doesn’t know this money exists. He got me my last job working at his firm as a receptionist, so he knew exactly how much I got paid and when it hit my account. Looking back, I can see now that it was another way he was controlling me. But this money, this job, this life, is all mine. I got myself here, found a job, and have my own apartment. My name is on the lease agreement, unlike the mortgage for our house in Toronto. It’s not much, but I’m proud of it.
After that, I check my email. I filter through the spam messages and newsletters I signed up for but never read. And then I see it. Sadie’s Strangers, accepting my application.
I blink at the screen. I was accepted? Me? Well, that’s flattering, but I can’t actually do it. It would be weird to do a photoshoot with a stranger. I’ve never done anything like that in my life.
But . . . isn’t this exactly why I signed up for it in the first place? I suck in a huge breath, hold it, and blow it out. I think of all the things I’ve wanted to do but Ethan said no. All the adventures I secretly wanted to have but never voiced. All the dreams I longed to live but never mentioned because I knew he’d laugh and call them, me, silly.
I accept Sadie’s invitation. In a little over three weeks, I will be doing a photoshoot with a stranger.