Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
AUbrEY
If I chuck my laptop across the room, I wonder if replacing it would cost less than the therapy, I’m clearly going to need after another day of job-hunting.
Eight hours of scrolling through job boards, tailoring cover letters, and tweaking my résumé for the hundredth time, and I have exactly five applications to show for it. Five.
Don’t get me started on what will inevitably happen over the next week.
Nothing.
Not a damn thing.
If I’m lucky, one company will email me back.
Maybe I’ll even land an interview. I’ll iron my nicest blouse, rehearse answers in the mirror, convince myself this is finally the one …
only to get another polite rejection, thanking me for my time before informing me they’ve decided to move forward with a candidate who has more experience.
Experience.
The one thing every “entry-level” job apparently requires.
I spent four years earning a degree because everyone promised college was the key to building a career.
Instead, I’ve moved back into my childhood bedroom, I spend my days collecting rejection emails, and somehow, I’m expected to already have years of professional experience before anyone will give me my first chance.
Make it make sense.
I slam my laptop shut, opting for a little extra force instead of chucking it across the room.
It’s probably healthier.
Marginally.
I glance at the time on my phone.
Six o’clock.
Sydney should be off work by now. At least one of us managed to graduate and land a real job.
The bitter taste of jealousy creeps into the back of my throat, and I hate it almost as much as the rejection emails piling up in my inbox. Sydney has worked her ass off for everything she’s accomplished. She deserves every bit of her success.
It’d just be nice if I could find a little of my own.
I tap her name and lift the phone to my ear.
She answers before the second ring. “Hi, girl! How are you?”
I push back from the desk I’ve had since high school and catch my reflection in the mirror.
My dark hair is piled into a messy ponytail that’s one bad hair tie away from giving up, I’m makeup-free, and judging by the oversize sweatshirt I’ve been wearing since this morning, I’ve officially accepted that today is a lost cause.
“I’m fine,” I lie, letting myself fall backward onto my bed.
Sydney laughs softly. “Ouch. Another bad day?”
I sigh. “I would’ve happily taken fourteen interviews.”
“You’ll get there, Aubrey.”
“I just thought I’d be there by now.”
The words hang between us.
When I pictured life after graduation, I imagined my own apartment, decorating an office, grabbing happy hour with coworkers after work. I didn’t picture moving back into my childhood bedroom, sending out résumés all day, and wondering if I somehow missed the memo everyone else got.
“Have your parents said anything?”
“They’re trying not to.”
“But …”
“But every time my mom asks how the job search is going, I swear I lose another year off my life.”
Sydney laughs. “She’s just worried about you.”
“I know she is.” I glance around my room, my eyes landing on the framed college degree hanging above my dresser. “They’re both being great about me living here. I just hate feeling like I’m standing still.”
“You aren’t standing still.”
“It feels like I am.”
A knock sounds on my bedroom door before it slowly opens.
Mom leans her head inside. “Sorry, sweetheart. Dinner’s ready.”
I cover the phone. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
She smiles. “Don’t let it get to you. Something will come along.”
The door clicks shut.
Sydney doesn’t say anything for a beat.
“You know,” she starts, “if you ever need a break, you can come visit me in Chicago.”
I sigh. “I might have to take you up on that. I’m burned out, and I can only take so much rejection.”
“Just say the word, babe. I’m here when you need me.”
After talking a bit about how her day went, I click off of the phone and toss it to the side, staring up at my ceiling.
Silence fills my room.
A year ago, this was exactly what I wanted. To graduate, move home for a little while, and find a great job.
I wanted to start my life.
The first two happened exactly as planned, but the third feels like some cruel joke.
My eyes drift around the room, landing on the framed degree hanging above my dresser. Four years of late-night study sessions, group projects, internships, finals, and more caffeine than any human should consume, all leading to a piece of paper that currently serves as expensive wall decor.
For the first time, I wonder if graphic design was a smart major.
Another knock echoes at my door before it opens again.
“Dinner’s getting cold,” Mom says with a smile.
“I’ll be right there.”
She hesitates for a moment. “Everything okay?”
I force a smile that’s convincing enough to ease the worry from her face. “Just one of those days.”
“I know it’s frustrating, sweetheart, but don’t let yourself believe this is forever.”
“I won’t.” The lie comes easier than I’d like.
Once she’s gone, I grab the edge of my comforter and pull myself off the bed. Sulking hasn’t landed me a job yet, and skipping dinner isn’t going to help either.
As I make my way downstairs, the familiar smell of my dad’s grilled chicken fills the house.
The television hums quietly from the family room, dishes clink together in the kitchen, and for just a second, I’m reminded of how lucky I am to have parents who opened their home without making me feel like I’d failed.
But I can’t shake the feeling that everyone else is moving forward while I’m standing perfectly still, watching life happen without me.