The Fifteenth Year

Epilogue: Part 5

Tuesday, October 27, 2015 (continued)

Dear Friend,

I graduated college undeterred and with a degree in English Lit in May 2012. My family flew out for my graduation ceremony and were sending pictures via phone to the Conners' like crazy (even more than my relatives, which I found funny).

I was offered a position at that establishment I took some writing courses from over the period of my college career, but after a walk-through tour and two very informative interviews it just didn't feel right. I thought my parents would flip when I told them I turned down an editing position, but they were calm when I explained I had a bad feeling, not to mention the workers seemed on edge and intense.

"So what do you want to do?" my dad asked me.

"I'm a writer...not an editor," I replied.

"Then come home," my mom answered.

So I left Baltimore. It was a great university to get an education and I was proud of my achievements and I didn't mind the city. I had a Hopkins sweatshirt, I enjoyed the coffee places there and the local library and a sportsbar me and my college buddies went to called The Hang. I followed The Ravens, and Brett and I even took a day trip up to New York City and Niagara Falls, but...I just didn't see myself as a resident of Maryland for the rest of my life. I wasn't engaged to anybody from there, I didn't have a job that blew me away waiting for me, or friends I really connected with for the long-term.

The summer of 2012, I wanted to write but found I was missing my inspiration. I kept waiting for inspiration to hit and a writing guru to overtake my brain and fill a laptop word document with all these wonderful things, but it wasn't happening and it was frustrating.

I worked part-time at a major department store (and I shared that information with very few people because it was embarrassing to go home after going clear across the country to make something of myself and raised everybody's expectations) and paid my parents rent for my old room (to feel better about myself). When I wasn't at work, I was feeling sorry for myself in my downtime.

"Cassie, don't just sit around all afternoon and watch bad TV," my mom fussed. "You're not a teenager anymore, and thank God for that."

I rolled my eyes. "Was I really that terrible?"

"Not at all, but I didn't bring you back into the house to live aimlessly. You've got a degree. Do something with it."

"Mom," I said, muting the TV, "it's so depressing. I haven't been able to writing a thing since I got here."

"Was Baltimore your muse?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"No...it just...I'm having block really bad and I don't know what to do."

She shrugged and advised me to read in the meantime. The best inspiration for writers comes from resting the brain and reading a book and expanding on the author's ideas.

Read? I thought. I used to read all the time. I realized it had been so busy that I hadn't picked up a book in months.

"That's a great idea, Mom," I said, standing up to grab my shoes. "I'm going out to get coffee right now and I'll pick up whatever the latest best-seller is while I'm there."

"Really? A random old book? But...what if you don't like the premise of it?"

"Don't care," I said, double-lacing my sneakers. "I just gotta get out of the house. I need to read something. Anything. If nothing else it'll let me know what I don't want to write."

Then I kissed her cheek and raced over to Starbucks. While there, paying for and sipping my latte, I browsed with my free hand the book and magazine rack display. I grabbed the newspaper to look at the classifieds for a better job, the latest best-seller by Nicholas Sparks (because my own love life was so dead), and froze when I saw a magazine with Jason's photo on it. I picked it up and looked at it.

Star Running-Back for the Eagles and Hollywood Actress - Match Made In Heaven? the tag line read.

"You want that?" the cashier asked me, motioning to the magazine as she took the paper and book from me to scan.

"Um..." I fumbled for words.

She leaned a little over the counter to see what I was looking at. "Ah, yeah. Don't they make a cute couple? I hear that guy came from here. Lived in this very town, in fact."

I swallowed. "No kidding."

I knew I shouldn't have, but I bought the magazine. I read over the article on the couch at home. Her name was Bridget Tier. They met at an after-party after interviews when the Eagles were at an away game playing the San Diego Chargers. She had just got her break in a big film and they hit it off and have been exclusive ever since. I had no idea how often they saw each other, if they were going to move to be together, how serious they were - all these things the magazine pondered aloud too (as if I would know). All I knew was that he had his arms around her, she had an Eagles jersey on (and in some cruel case of irony it was the one I had just ordered online last week), and she was irritatingly beautiful. Tall, tan, big doe-eyed, full-lipped smile, perfect teeth, gorgeous long dark hair. Just like Lydia had been.

My mom caught me reading the article when she entered the room. "They've been together a year," she said softly. "He recently brought her to Lakota. She seems nice."

I set the magazine aside. "Good for him," I said what I thought was convincingly.

My mom looked at me warily. "Are you okay?"

"Mom, it's fine. Jason and I broke up three years ago. It's not like he was going to be single forever. I'm happy for him. Please."

"Well, good. Because he's actually coming home in a couple weeks to help his parents out with the wedding before the Eagles start practicing again. I'm sure he'd like to get in touch with you before Tracy's wedding." I did not do a good job hiding the panic because she said, "You just said you were fine with him dating. What is that face you're making?"

"Mom," I said simply. "He is a millionaire. He's a celebrity. Who is dating a celebrity. I work for a damn Costco."

She waved her hand, brushing that information off. "Please. Jason is not going to compare notes when he sees you. Be proud of your accomplishments. It's not like you don't have any."

She didn't get it. He made it big time and I was a freaking townie again. I broke up with him essentially to work in a supermarket. It was humiliating. I sighed and pulled out my cell phone. After a few rings, Tessa's chipper voice answered.

"Hey," I said, "what are you doing right now?"

"Just getting off work," she announced. "Why?"

"Can you come over?" I asked. "I'm in a mood."

"Sure thing," she said.

TO BE CONTINUED