Chapter Three
IT WAS APPROACHING two months since the tiki bar adventure.
The icy winter air had transitioned into a crisp spring breeze, and Cierra was sipping on her third iced coffee of the day, making her way through Grand Central Station.
Nights out with Mia had lifted her mood somewhat, but she still struggled day to day, with little to no appetite and an overwhelming desire to be constantly in bed.
Occasionally she thought about Julian, but she was still too raw to reach out.
Ranting on FaceTime calls to Mia, job searching, and avoiding her bank statements consumed most of her energy.
Although the term “looking for jobs” was generous, as the bulk of her research had quickly transitioned into watching YouTube videos until one in the morning, with titles like Your Passion: Revealed or How to become unrecognizable in sixty days!
The week Harry left, she had bawled on the phone for hours to her mom. And as a result, her mom kept urging her to come home to Connecticut for a weekend.
After their dad passed away when Cierra was in college, her older sister, Lisa, had stepped up to take care of their aging mother, moving back home with her wife, Jess, to be closer.
These factors made Cierra’s trip home all the more humiliating for her — coming home alone felt like she was letting everyone down.
If her parents had figured it out, despite financial and societal pressures Cierra never had, what did that say about her?
She grimaced at the thought of seeing Lisa.
Another call Cierra had left unanswered.
After jumping on her train and taking a thick hoodie out of her bag, she placed it between her head and the window to rest. This breakup had left her feeling completely deflated. Where there once was security, self-confidence, and a sense of belonging, there was now just a vast emptiness.
She hadn’t told her friends or family, barring Mia, about the job situation yet.
She and Harry had already paid until the end of their lease.
Well, actually, Harry had offered to pay the rest of the rent, and Cierra was in no financial position to refuse.
Which felt extra humiliating on top of his already leaving.
And she hated to admit it, but Harry was right.
Up and quitting so soon without a backup hadn’t been the best move, and now she was feeling the pressure to find a new job.
There were other restaurants she knew would hire her in a moment, but the nicer ones weren’t hiring for a senior chef position.
And so, she was essentially looking at jobs for the same position she had been in, but at less reputable establishments and with lower pay.
Meanwhile, her student debt payments were piling up, and Lisa, who had co-signed, had rightfully called and left a message just a week prior, asking to talk about it.
Her relationship with Harry had afforded her a lifestyle that she couldn’t keep up on her own.
He had paid a larger share of the rent, and he was the one who took care of social outings and vacations.
And while this truth existed in the background of her mind, Cierra had never considered that it was something that would ever change.
The thought of moving in with a roommate at thirty didn’t seem like a viable option, but neither was paying the price of a one-bedroom within a forty-five-minute radius of downtown Manhattan.
Without divine intervention, Cierra had no clue how she was going to manage, and her lease was up within the week.
The sides of her head felt pressed together again, like her temples were trying to squeeze out her thoughts.
When Cierra looked in her small purse for some painkillers, she remembered she’d left them in her weekend bag, but she did find her go-to emotional support snack — a fresh bag of Skittles.
Grinning, she took the waxy red packet out for later, forcing herself to wait until taking her actual medicine before popping a sweet little bite into her mouth.
She placed her watered-down iced coffee to the side and wriggled out of the tight train seat to retrieve her bag from overhead.
Lost in her own world of self-inflicted doom, she had almost forgotten there were other people on the train and took a minute to survey the various train-goers in their activities.
A group of college girls were laughing at videos and sharing them with each other.
There was a hot finance dad on his laptop, probably working on the commute.
An older woman was watching her iPad and fiddling with a bag of pretzels.
Cierra wondered what people thought of when they saw her — or if they even noticed.
Could anyone tell her life had imploded? Or did they just see a napping woman?
After grabbing her medicine, she washed it down with the watery coffee and zoned out, listening to music for the rest of the two-hour train ride.
Cierra’s mom and sister were already waiting in the train station parking lot when she arrived. After opening the door of the dark blue Subaru, Cierra got in the passenger seat and was greeted with a massive hug from her mom. Lisa patted her shoulder from the back seat.
When they pulled into the driveway, Cierra realized Skittles were the only thing she had eaten all day; sounds coming from her stomach alerted her before her brain had caught up. She got through the door, and Jess, Lisa’s wife, came through, offering a big hug as well.
“Sure you only want to stay until Sunday?” she asked.
“Oh, you know she has her job to get back to and her busy life in the city.” Cierra’s mom always emphasized the city like it was some magical land and not a cement jungle half covered in heaping piles of trash.
Cierra paused at the mention of her work. “Um, I don’t have a job to get back to. Not right now.”
Her family looked at her, puzzled. This time, it was Lisa who broke the silence. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I quit my job at Terra.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize.” Lisa blew out a breath. “That’s a lot of change all at once.”
“I feel like they worked you too hard there,” Cierra’s mom chimed in. “And some of your coworkers were a little snooty.”
Cierra’s family had come to Terra a couple of times to show support, but they weren’t exactly the types to feel comfortable in a place like that.
Once, when they asked a server what the warm lemon water bowls were for at the beginning of a meal, the server said a little mockingly, “Uh, to wash up?” Cierra’s mom had never really gotten over it.
“So, what’s the new gig?” Jess asked excitedly.
“Well”—Cierra rubbed her fingers together—“I have a couple of offers, so I’m taking the weekend to decide which one is best, long term, you know.”
Her mom placed a dainty hand over her daughter’s wrist. “Well, that is just excellent to hear. You always make it work, don’t you?
You know what, I think this is all really exciting.
And a new job might be just what you need.
I’m so proud of you for making a change.
You should’ve been running that place the whole time. ”
Jess interjected, “So, what happened with Harry?” The question of the hour. Cierra’s mom and sister both looked at her with concern, but she just shrugged her shoulders.
“I really don’t know,” Cierra said. And unlike her previous answer about her job, that was the truth.
“Was it you . . . or . . . ?” her mom asked, trying her best not to pry.
“He was the one who initiated it, but it was pretty mutual,” Cierra lied. Her family all nodded in willing agreement to the farce. “I think we just outgrew each other. We want different things out of life . . .” Her voice broke off; she really didn’t want to cry again.
Her mom rubbed her upper back. “No worries, sweetie. No need to get into it all right now.” Cierra gave her a grateful smile, and her stomach let out another growl, which broke the somber moment. “Oh, my, you must be hungry.”
“She certainly looks hungry,” Lisa chimed in. “What’s that saying about skinny chefs?”
Cierra’s mom waved Lisa off and said, “Want me to grab something? I can see if we’ve got anything in the fridge. Or maybe I could pick up some burgers?”
While Cierra had nothing against fast food, she wasn’t in the mood for anything super greasy. “How about I make a Kitchen Sink?” she said. “I’m sure you have more than enough for me to work with.”
“Well, honey, I think that sounds great. Sure you’re up for it? We’re not trying to put you to work,” her mom said.
“I’m sure,” Cierra replied. In her family, “Kitchen Sink” described the meals Cierra created solely from random leftover ingredients in the fridge and pantry.
It was probably her first experience with proper cooking and had introduced her to experimenting with various flavors, textures, and whatnot.
Cierra learned at an early age that limited resources had a way of leading to creativity.
“I’ll keep you company,” Lisa said, following her little sister into the retro kitchen, complete with fruit-patterned wallpaper and a white refrigerator. Lisa made herself a hot black tea and perched on the same beige kitchen island they’d done their homework on as kids.
While Cierra unloaded various leftovers and random veggies from the fridge, Lisa looked at her expectantly. “So, where are you deciding between? You must have moved really fast after you quit your job.”
Cierra was half listening and half trying to figure out which things went best together out of fresh cilantro, Worcestershire sauce, a zucchini, cabbage, and leftover pork chops. She’d need to think more about it — this was going to be a challenge.
“Uh yeah, well, you know, just using some connections. It wasn’t too difficult.”
Liar.