48. Annie
Annie
The echoes of voices in the airport surround me as I sit in the terminal waiting for my section to be called.
Marcy dropped me off at the airport at nine a.m., barely missing traffic this morning.
There was a rush of packing bags last night because I still felt like I was on the fence about moving.
Did I want to do this? No. Did I need to do this? Yes. What other options did I have?
There was the possibility of Pulse PR.
After Marcy told me about June at Pulse, I contacted her immediately to let her know I was interested. If I had the possibility to shoot my shot, I was taking it. I didn’t know what kind of role they had available for me, but I knew that whatever it was, I would take it.
If it was an internship, I would take it.
I would start at the bottom and climb back up the ladder if I had to, to prove myself. I’ve done it before, I could do it again. If I didn’t have to work with Greg anymore, or even adjacent to Greg, my life would be so much better.
And I could stay in LA.
With Zayn.
With my friends and sister.
LA has become home for me, and as much as I gripe about the traffic and lack of snow, I would miss it.
When June emailed me back and asked to chat with me in person, I was thrilled.
Could this be happening? Could the universe be on my side for once?
The past few years I’ve been giving, giving, giving, and not taking anything in return.
Any favor someone asked for, I said yes.
Any extra projects, errands, events, I said yes.
If no one would believe in me, I was going to do my best job at believing in myself.
I was starting to think it wasn’t enough.
But then the interview happened mid-week, and it went great.
“You’re exactly the type of person we are looking for,” June had said. “We are looking for someone who’s looking to grow in their career and is open to taking on the more complex clients and finding ways to help them shine.”
Isn’t that what I did with Zayn? I helped him find his spark, something to bring him back, to show the media that he’s the type of guy that the world would be thrilled to see as the lead in this series.
June continued on to say, “It would be a little slower to start as we build up our clientele, but we want the person we hire to have a say in the processes we take on as a business. It’s important to me that everyone feels like a small partner in this venture.”
Her words hit me straight in the chest, and I smiled wide.
It was a perfect opportunity, one that I’ve always dreamed of.
I’ve made vision boards of females in suit jackets commanding a room.
There have been days that I wondered what it’d be like to work under someone more empathetic, instead of domineering like Greg.
June hasn’t called me since, but I know she has a few other people to talk to before they decide on who they will hire.
She was impressed with my resume, even though most of it was full of work I helped with during my time as an intern.
But in her words it “shows how collaborative you are” and “how willing you are to help your coworkers when they are in a pinch.”
I wanted to be the one to be pinched in that moment. Is this real life? That was the phrase echoing in my mind the entire meeting.
And now there’s been radio silence, but I’m still hopeful. It hasn’t even been a week, something could still happen. But that doesn’t help calm the churn in my stomach or the thoughts swirling in my mind telling me that maybe I’m not good enough.
The thoughts are the worst, even with Marcy trying to hype me up any chance she gets.
When I returned home from the interview, she had a cake.
A fucking celebratory cake. Granted it said “Happy birthday” on it, but it was the thought that mattered.
She’s been the best best friend, trying to bring joy to my life over these past two weeks away from Zayn.
Some mornings it worked. I was able to go an hour without thinking about the way his lips felt on mine or the way he smiled whenever our eyes met. The ache in my heart dulled just a little. It was less of a throbbing pain, and more of a constant reminder that a piece is missing.
“We are now boarding for Flight 826 to New York.”
The voice from the speaker alarms me, and I lurch forward. Then, the throbbing pain returns, in full force this time, reminding me that this is actually happening.
I’m moving.
I’m moving.
I throw my bag over my shoulder, grab the handle to my suitcase, and walk toward the gate.
A small line awaits me. Perfect, just what I need.
More time to collect my thoughts. All I wanted was to get on the plane, put headphones on, and try to force myself to fall asleep.
If I do that, I don’t have to spend the entire flight listing out the pros and cons of moving to New York.
The cons list would be too long anyway. It would show that there are more on that side of the scale than the other.
But my dreams weigh a lot, right? Even if it’s the only pro?
I can find friends, new favorite restaurants, a new favorite bookstore.
I could even find love, if I wanted to. Which I don’t, to be transparent.
I want nothing more than to stay here, to continue to fall in love with Zayn, but would I regret that choice?
What if I don’t give this an honest chance?
And I never find my foothold in the industry again?
Even one more year with experience would make an impact, and maybe then I could come back. One year isn’t too bad, right?
The gate agent grabs my ticket and softly smiles before ushering me along.
My suitcase trails behind me as I walk onto the loading bridge.
Every step feels heavy. Every breath that I take feels forced.
My chest is pounding, aching, tight. I try to take a deep breath as I walk, then push it out. It doesn’t work.
If anything, it gets worse. My lungs beg for more, but I have nothing more to give.
“Miss, are you alright?” A flight attendant crowds me, leaning down to ask me the question.
I nod and coerce my lips to curl inward and form a thin line, a polite smile. They don’t see past my mask. They don’t see internally that I’m struggling with getting on the plane, but why would they? I’ve perfected the everything-is-fine look.
I picked a seat near the front, so I don’t have to walk far. After putting my carry-on in the overhead bin, I plop down in the aisle seat. I would normally prefer the window seat, but I didn’t want to watch the city I’ve come to love fade in the distance.
Before I have the chance to turn my phone on airplane mode, it starts ringing. I get the casual side-eye from my armrest partner, and normally I wouldn’t accept a call from a random number, but if this is who I think it is, I have to answer it.
“Hello?” I ask cautiously, hoping it’s not a spam call.
“Hi, Annie, this is June. Is now a good time to chat?”
“Hi, June! Yes, of course.”
Please be good news, please be good news.
“I know you are heading off to New York soon,” June starts, and I realize I never told her when I was moving, just that my job was leaving me no choice but to do so soon.
I can hear some papers shuffle before she continues, “but I was hoping you might consider sticking around in LA a little longer. We’d love to offer you one of our publicist positions with a small amount of equity.
I understand if you need time to think about this. ”
“No, I mean yes.” I stumble over my words. “I would love to review the offer prior to accepting, but I am extremely interested.”
“Great, great. I’m glad we caught you before you left. I’ll send the offer over now. Email or call me if you have any questions.”
I can picture June smiling on the other end as we hang up.
Before I left... shit . New York. I’m still on this fucking plane. I need to get off.
I need to review this contract.
Zayn.
I need to tell Zayn.