Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
T he official job offer comes seven days later, and I leap into the air after accepting it.
In my heart, I’d known. Between acing the interview and my horoscope predicting it (the sun’s heating up my tenth house of professional advancement and goals), I’d stayed positive.
They had other applicants, and that left room for my insecurities and unknowns to infiltrate my brain, especially over the span of a week—but I got the job.
I’m moving to San Francisco. I’m going to work for a magazine. No more shifts as a gas station attendant or restaurant hostess. This is a career-girl position. One that could lead to being a real writer someday.
My roommates aren’t home, and I’m ready to burst, so I call Kendra.
“Guess who you’re talking to?” I say.
“Jacqui? Or have aliens abducted you and it just sounds like Jacqui?”
“Jacqui Hall, the newest editorial assistant for San Francisco Life !” The phone cord stretches taut once I step onto the veranda .
She whoops. “Pumpkin, I’m so proud of you! And wait until you hear this…”
“What?” I ask before sparking up a cigarette.
“I’m headed to the city too!”
I scream. “You got into UC Hastings?”
“Sure did. Law school, here I come.”
“Oh my god!” I squeal. “Hold up. Does this mean we can be roommates?”
“You bet your sweet ass. I probably won’t be much fun…my social life is about to take an even bigger hit. May it rest in peace.”
“This is amazing. Look at the stars aligning to bring us together again.” My heart squeezes and my eyelids prick. Thank you , I throw toward the heavens.
“Who could have predicted this turn of events?” she says. The warmth in her voice reminds me of many shared moments.
“You’re the best imaginary friend ever,” I say, flicking my ash. “Wait until I tell my dad.”
“Right?” Kendra snorts at my reference to when my father thought I made up her existence to cover for my falsehoods. I lied my pretty little head off with Kendra’s blessing to steal overnights with the men in my life.
“Hey, Jacqui?”
“Hmm?”
“You still smoking? Because I need our apartment to be smoke free. It gives me a headache and?—”
“Done. I’ve been meaning to quit. I’m an idiot for ever getting hooked.” And it reminds me of the two motherfuckers I’m trying to forget. Eying the half-pack sitting on my dresser, I vow it will be my last.
“Just like that?”
How difficult will kicking the habit be? It sure as shit hasn’t been easy quitting Mick. This will be child’s play in comparison. “It’s time. ”
“I’d say thank you, but you should probably thank me instead. After all, I am saving your life.”
That makes me chuckle. “I’ll get back to you once I’m through my withdrawal symptoms, when I have something nice to say.”
We talk a while longer, ironing out plans for our near future.
I phone my parents next and tell them about the job, Kendra, all of it. My father is pleased, which matters—despite me wishing it didn’t—and my mother’s cheer is apparent even through her medicated haze.
The front door slams and I rush downstairs, eager to celebrate with my girls, who’ve become my “real” family.
I falter as I reach the hallway…jarred by the realization that I’m hopeful .
Hope is dangerous. Hope sinks ships—and I’ve already been on the emotional Titanic .
Pushing my feet forward, I allow myself to experience the undiluted joy of starting a new chapter—and firmly closing the book on this one.
To spread my wings and soar, just like Mick wanted.
I’m ready.