Chapter 1 #2
“Come on, guys. Let’s forget all this doom and gloom talk and dance with some hot guys!” Nina hops off her stool, looping her arm around mine. “Let’s go! Declan, watch our table.”
He shoots her a thumbs-up. “You got it.”
I try to protest but Nina’s already dragging me off my stool and onto the dance floor. The bass from the live band thumps through my chest, and for a little while, I actually let myself go, getting lost in the music and flashing lights of the stage.
It’s easier than thinking, that’s for sure.
As the night rolls on, shots blur into more shots.
Hands and bodies brush against mine, grinding and swaying as I’m led through each number that slowly erases whatever worries I’d been carrying walking through the front door.
I laugh and dance with my friends until the bar does last call, and I soon find myself stumbling out into the cold air with the rest of the crowd.
I’m half-carrying Alia while Nina fumbles for her phone to call us a rideshare. Declan’s trailing behind all of us, some girl wrapped around him and desperately trying to yank him down into another kiss. His lips and cheeks are stained from her lipstick in a hilariously ridiculous way.
“Shit, where the hell is it?” Nina mumbles.
I stop right on the edge of the curb, keeping my arm locked around Alia when she sways again. She’s singing to herself, an out-of-tune rendition of the last song that had been playing before we left, her head moving to rest on my shoulder as she lets out a contented sigh.
“I love you guys,” she mumbles.
I’m forced to shift my body weight when she practically ragdolls in my arms.
My body is still buzzing from all the alcohol, enough to keep me from really feeling the chill in the air. Luckily, the cold is starting to sober me up a bit, making it easier to move my limbs and keep Alia from slipping out of my grasp and flopping down onto the dirty sidewalk.
“Found it!” Nina sings, holding her phone up triumphantly.
My eyes move away from her to something flapping on a nearby light post. It’s a colorful flyer with a picture of a globe on it. Smiling cartoon people are all linked together by their hands around it. Beneath the picture is a headline that reads, Teach English Abroad! We Pay BIG BUCKS!
Huh…
“Hey, you need help?”
I turn to the voice, spotting Declan, the girl who had been clinging to him no longer around. Before I have a chance to answer, he bends down just enough to scoop Alia up into his arms and practically throw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
She laughs, her speech slurred enough that I can’t make out the words. Whatever she does say gets a small snort out of Declan.
“Thanks,” I say, rolling my shoulders.
“Nina put in for a ride yet?” he asks.
“I think so.” But my attention is already shifting back to the flyer.
Before I can stop myself, I pull away from Declan’s side and walk over to it, plucking it from where it’s been stapled against the post. At the very bottom is a phone number and an urgent request to call for more information ASAP.
I’m not sure what possesses me to fold the flyer up and stuff it into my bra by the time the rideshare finally pulls up to the curb, or why I bother tossing it onto my nightstand once I finally make it home and climb into bed for the night, not bothering to change out of my clothes before passing out.
Maybe it’s the tequila talking, but for the first time all night as I drift off to sleep, I find myself imagining picking up and leaving the States behind for good.
Come the next morning, the light spilling in from my open window pulls me from my sleep. A headache throbs like a drumbeat behind my eyes, forcing me to shift slightly and immediately regret it.
My mouth feels like cotton and tastes too much like I stuffed a bunch of paper towels in it—dry and bizarrely sour.
I smack my lips a few times, trying to generate any hint of moisture while wondering if I made the spectacularly bad choice to eat cotton balls sometime in the night. Wouldn’t put it past me, honestly.
Last night was… blurry.
And loud.
I squint. The curtains are barely even pulled closed, allowing the sun to punch me in the face like it has a personal vendetta.
Groaning, I reach an arm over my head and stretch with a tight sigh, feeling pops along my spine like someone cracking their knuckles one by one.
I shift from the crumpled and awkward position I apparently collapsed into at some point, one leg under me and the other hanging off the side of my mattress like I’d attempted yoga and died halfway through it.
“Fuck me,” I mumble under my breath.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I pause as the floor tilts like it wants to throw me straight back down onto my bed.
My stomach churns, threatening vengeance for all the bar snacks I greedily snuck between drinks like they were some kind of neutralizer.
Cheese fries don’t cancel out vodka, something I should know from plenty of past experiences.
As soon as the worst of it passes, I force myself to stand.
My room is a mess. Clothes are scattered from being tossed after cycling through outfits before deciding on one. I apparently slept in it. My makeup bag is halfway open on the dresser, brushes sticking out like casualties in a civil war. My phone is lying face down on my nightstand—dead, probably.
Reaching for it, something else catches my attention.
The flyer sitting perfectly tucked under my phone.
Oh. Right.
Picking it up, I stare at the image for a beat too long.
The bright, bubbly text, the stupid little graphic with the people holding hands in the middle.
The paper is creased awkwardly a few times from how I stuffed it into my bra last night, and there’s a corner missing that I don’t remember seeing when I took it off the light post.
Teach English abroad. We pay BIG BUCKS.
The bold headline taunts me. Why did I take this with me?
I shift my weight to settle back down onto the edge of my bed and stare down at the contact info printed neatly across the bottom of the page. A phone number, an email address, even a tagline promising “fully funded international opportunities for motivated applicants”.
It almost sounds too good to be true.
And yet, for some inexplicable reason, I catch myself actually considering it.
Would it be so crazy to see exactly where this program would be taking place?
I mean, maybe it’s Thailand. Or Japan. Or some small country I’ve never even heard of.
Maybe it’s teaching English to kids who’ve never stepped foot outside their villages.
Maybe it’s teaching business language to adults in a big corporate city.
Or maybe it’s nothing like the glossy promises at all.
I’ve always wanted to travel in that whimsical kind of way people romanticize with Pinterest boards and travel hashtags.
The chance to see something outside of this state, to feel like I didn’t have to apologize for wanting more than working doubles on the weekends at Old Navy in order to scrape together rent one month at a time.
Even getting to another state always felt like some far-off fantasy.
I could never justify nor afford blowing that kind of money without some reason other than wanting to.
But at this point in my life, there’s not much holding me here other than my friends, and soon enough, they’ll be moving on too.
They’re all graduating this year with their shiny bachelor’s degrees and polished resumes and well-paved roads stretching out in front of them. Me? I’m still pathetically struggling to make it through my associate’s.
It won’t be long now before they all move on.
They’ll get their “big kid” jobs and start posting photos of their new apartments, tagging their coworkers in fun team-building activities while climbing their way to salaries that would make me weep.
All the while, I’m still trying to figure out if I can afford textbooks and groceries at the same time.
It’s not their fault. It’s just life. But it’s also… inevitable. Sooner or later, they’ll leave and I’ll be here. Left behind.
So what’s keeping me here, really? Another shift schedule at my dead end retail job? A campus that feels more like a punishment than an opportunity? A town I’ve already grown too familiar with?
With a sigh, I grab my phone. My thumb hovers over the screen for a second, just long enough to let doubt creep in.
What the hell am I doing?
But the thought slips away as quickly as it comes. I take a breath, roll my shoulders back, and punch the number in before I can talk myself out of it. My fingers tremble slightly, which is ridiculous because this is just a phone call. I’m not committing to anything just yet.
As soon as the line rings twice, a bright and peppy voice picks up the other end. “Hello! This is Miss Dori with Bright Horizons! How may I help you?”
I scramble for words, but my mouth decides now’s the time to remind me I’ve been breathing through it all night. “Uh, hi… I’m calling about a flyer I saw? About a teaching job abroad?”
“Oh! Yes, wonderful!” she gushes, practically clapping through the phone. “You must be calling about the Moscow English Abroad Program I’m hosting!”
Moscow? I blink. “Moscow? As in… Russia?”
“Yes! That’s right!” she chirps. “It’s one of our more exclusive programs at the moment, but such a beautiful one. You’re going to love it!”
“Uh… yeah, maybe.” Does she think I’m already committing to it?
“Perfect! So the program includes housing, a weekly stipend provided by the family who will be hosting you, and training before you go over. We also offer cultural immersion activities and language classes to help you acclimate while you’re there.
” Miss Dori’s voice practically vibrates as she speaks.
Weekly stipend? Housing? Cultural activities?
Damn.
I chew on the inside of my cheek.