It was pure chance (and extreme judgmental behavior on my part) that Chris and I crossed paths once again after we had graduated high school, and even though we were never really friends back then, it was nice to see that we had somehow both turned out very similar. Of course, our circumstances were quite different, but at the heart of it all, we were the same.
Now that I didn't need him for anything anymore, I hoped we would still keep in contact. There was something about him that made me feel a little better about myself, whether it was the comparison or something else.
Bright and early at the ass crack of dawn, someone knocked at my bedroom door.
I looked at the clock. 7:30. I buried my head into my pillow.
"If you're finally giving up with your crafts, would you just throw all of that shit out already? I'm tired of it taking up every square centimeter of the couch," Blake said.
"You couldn't wait another thirty minutes until I got up to ask me that?" I asked.
"Nope. It's been driving me insane for weeks now."
I took in a long breath. "That's a huge part of my life, and you're asking me to throw it all out?"
"You made it perfectly clear that you're done with that dream, so it needs to get out of the shared living space at the very least," Blake said.
"I still have one more—" I trailed off, knowing damn well that there was no way he was still listening on the other side of the door. I shook my head. Ah yes, how could I have so quickly forgotten the feeling of being ignored?
I knew it wasn't a big deal to anyone but me, but it was still a sad occasion to hang up the crochet hooks—not permanently by any stretch, but as a dream of a way to make a living. Was I really the only one who could see that? Feel that?
But before I could dive into that negativity any more, I remembered that I could just drive, drive, drive away from everyone and everything now that I had a car again. There was something very comforting about that thought, and it was beginning to sound like a really good idea in my head.
There were a million places I wanted to go, and with a little bit more money in my account than I was used to, it was like someone upstairs was daring me to see what the world had to offer me. And by the world, I meant anywhere within a single tank of gas.
I smiled to myself. Maybe I could finally take that trip to the Jo-Ann Fabrics headquarters that I had always wanted.
Yeah. That sounded nice, even if I was supposed to be giving that part of my life up for now.
***
I was never one to beg for someone's attention. I either had it or I didn't, and Mason could not be an exception to my rule for myself.
Whether he wanted it or not, he still had my attention, though, and I watched him play through my open office door. Those extra nights George asked him to pick up at the winery stung me more than I ever thought they would, and I didn't think it would be comfortable for me by any stretch of the imagination.
Unless he was playing some kind of sick game with my feelings, I wasn't sure what I had done to make him lose every bit of interest that he had in me. Maybe he thought I was too fat or something. Men were ridiculous like that sometimes.
But before I could come up with any more reasons I could have possibly done something to make him act so cold, one of the waitresses came into my office.
"Some guy wants to speak with the manager. He didn't seem upset about anything, though," she said.
I sat up in my chair. "Then what does he want? To tell me that I'm doing a great job?"
Yeah right.
Chances were that he wanted to compliment a wine recommendation or tell me that the food was exceptional, and it was admittedly nice to hear that we weren't a horrible business for once, but at the same time, nice words didn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. All that mattered was how much money we were making.
I froze before I got up to talk to this guy. How the hell did those words ever enter my mind? When did I become so cynical about the reason for working on anything?
Yes, money was a driving factor for everything, but I never wanted it to be the reason I did anything—especially what I chose to spend my entire life doing.
Of course, I could always make new choices down the road. I knew that. But to choose to let something go now just because of temporary money? Was that really a choice I wanted to make?
I shook my head. When did I become this person?
I didn't say any of those thoughts out loud as the waitress led me out to the customer who wanted to talk to me. Mason was out on the piano, and just like always, the melody sent a calming wave over me. It was no mystery why people liked having him around, but it hurt to see his face. It made me want to throw up.
At one of the tables, there sat a familiar face. I looked back at the waitress and nodded to let her know that everything was fine.
"What can I help you with?" I asked Chris as a few tears began to sting my eyes. My throat burned as the words came out, and I looked down at the ground to keep everything inside—snot, tears, words.
"Are you doing okay?" he asked.
I nodded but didn't say anything. Who knew what would have come out if I dared to start talking?
All I knew was that I wasn't me anymore. Inside, I was the same girl who sat a table away from Chris in high school. Of course, I was older now, but that didn't mean that I couldn't still chase what made me happy instead of chasing a life I would probably never have.
"I just wanted to say that the food was—are you sure you're okay?" Chris asked again.
I nodded. "I'm sure. Everything is fine."
I looked over my shoulder to see Mason at the piano. Was it him? Was he what was making me act like someone I never wanted to be?
Chris raised an eyebrow, and he clearly didn't believe that lie, but he continued on anyway. "I just wanted to tell you that the food was delicious. Every time I come here, it feels like home. So thank you."
This time when I looked behind me, I looked at the decorations I had put up and the little station of my crafts that I could easily expand into a place for every local to sell the goods they were proud of. Those were my ideas that spoke to people. My creativity. My choices.
That was what made this place somewhere I wanted to be. It felt like home. Lydia kept it that way, and if I wanted to ever live my life the way she did, that was the blueprint I had to follow. I had to make every decision I made be completely my own choice.
"Well, thank you for saying that. It's exactly what I needed to hear today," I said.
The visions I had in my mind were not a waste of time. Maybe some people didn't like them when I described them or when they were just a work in progress, but that only meant that they didn't see what I saw. It didn't say anything about who I was as a person. The only thing that said anything about me was that I tried to please others with what I was trying to do with my life in the recent weeks.
I was a visionary, and it was up to me—and only me—how I chose to use that.
I headed back to my office with those words in my mind. I wasn't sure how I let anyone ever convince me that I was wasting my time with my silly little crafts. People liked them, and they made me happy. If I sat down and came up with some kind of business plan, who was to tell me that the sky wasn't the limit?
I pulled out a piece of blank paper and grabbed my purple glitter gel pen out of my pen cup.
Dear George,
First and foremost, I would like to thank you for this opportunity. It truly means the world to know that you thought of me to assist you in running your business. However, I am writing this letter to inform you that I wish to resign from my position at the Lakeside Daisy, effective two weeks from—
I hesitated for a moment. I would add the date later.
I will be more than happy to assist in making this transition as easy as possible. Once again, I would like to thank you for this opportunity. You have been nothing but great to me.
Marigold Reynolds
I put the letter in my top desk drawer for safe keeping for now. The last part of the letter was a little bit of a lie, but it was important to not burn any bridges with George.
But on the other hand, there were still plenty of bridges I was perfectly fine with burning.
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Hi you! Thank you so much for supporting me by reading! I really appreciate it!
So for this chapter's question, what do you like the most about being an adult? Or, once again, if you're not quite there yet, what are you looking forward to the most when you become an adult?
I absolutely love that I get to make my own decisions. It's very difficult sometimes, especially since I know that I have to make responsible choices (most of the time haha), but it is very empowering to be in control of my own destiny. It's a privilege that many people never get to have, honestly.