“She still has years of competing left.”
“If she wants to compete,” I counter, “that’s her choice, not yours. And it’s my choice right now to say I quit. The job is June’s, just like it was supposed to be this entire time. If you want this business to succeed, you need her.” June reaches out and squeezes my hand. “I’m going to spend the morning with my sisters; it’s been a while since we’ve hung out.”
“Fine. Juniper, I expect you in my office first thing tomorrow to discuss this,” he snaps and turns on a heel. The office door slams and June launches herself at me in a hug, squealing in a way I doubt she’d do if she wasn’t sky high.
A few hours later, when I’ve sobered up and stuffed my stomach full of fries, I head back to the cabin, which of course is freezing since the maintenance folks won’t get out here until next week. I could stay in the house, but I’ve put myself in this state of self-isolation.
I end up going out back to check the ice to see if it’s good to skate on. It’s not, but I sit on the edge, looking out across the glassy frozen surface, wondering what’s next.
I have no job. No plans. My future is wide open.
Playing with the snow at my side, I build a small snowman. As I grab for another clump, I find a bit of red fabric. No, not fabric, yarn.
I dig until I pull out Henri’s hat. I must have dropped it out here when I helped her off the ice and forgotten about it.
With it clutched in my hands, I run inside.
Maybe it’s fate. Or maybe I’m done going with the flow and am finally ready to fight for what I want.
30
Henri
Come on, we’re going to be late!” Iris calls from our living room.
“Just a second. I need to find my hat.” I toss clothes from my trip to Colorado aside, searching for the beanie Liam gifted me. It has to be in here somewhere, but I’ve looked through the pile strewn across the floor at least a dozen times since I got home a few days ago. “Where the hell did it go?”
My call with Mom on the car ride home was longer than I thought it would be, even with traffic. I told Mom about Liam, and about all the feelings cluttering my chest. The truth of everything I was carrying alone spilled out of me in a tidal wave I couldn’t contain. Mom gave me a firm reminder that she was in fact my parent and I’m not a burden if I need to help. I know that if I heard that a month ago, I wouldn’t listen, but now I’m leaning into being helped.
When I arrived at home, Iris was waiting for me with wine and, as promised,Sex and The Cityready on the TV. I told her I needed just one day to feel like shit. She laughed in my facebefore telling me that I’d need longer than that. I wasn’t just grieving the end of a relationship, but a future I had wished for before it was cut short. And in some way, wallowing and letting endless tears leak out of me was a show of respect for everything I felt with Liam.
After the crying sessions, she and Jasmine made sure to take me out to celebrate getting into my graduate program. They watched over my shoulder at the bar as I submitted the smaller- than- predicted payment I had to make to cover my fees. We cheersed our drinks, toasting to all the good things to come.
Now, I toss a sweater at the wall, but it floats to the floor harmlessly before it can land. God. I should just leave. Marty and Alexi are already at the venue setting up for their exclusive New Years party that people beg to be invited to and travel across the country to attend each year, and I promised we’d be there early to help.
It’s just a hat, I try to tell myself.
But it’s not.
It’s walking through the Christmas market because he knew I wanted to without having to ask and then seeing that my ears were cold. It’s insisting that I deserve to have something nice that I didn’t feel like I had to earn. Evidence that Liam was in my life.
I slam my fist into the carpeted floor over and over.
My bedroom door creaks and Iris steps inside. “What is it?”
“I lost my hat,” I blubber pathetically and my eyes start to sting.
Iris, patient as ever, sits on the floor with me, my head resting on her shoulder until I can compose myself to leave.
As it turns out, the chandelier-lit ballroom is nearly completely decorated as a regency era day dream. I’m fairly certain that they’ve chosen this theme so they can play out some sort of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley forbidden romance. We arrivein time to help with a handful of floral arrangements and “test” the signature cocktails. Marty and Alexi are already in their custom outfits and hand Iris and I garment bags with our own period accurate silk gowns with high empire waistlines .
I’ve also been given a shimmering mask, which is required of all the guests.
It’s nice to dress up and get out after holing up in Iris and my apartment for the last week.
But my optimism only lasts through the first few hours. Surrounded by people trying and failing to waltz to the string quartet positioned at the far end of the hall, I truly hope that I’ll be able to push past the weight after midnight, and step into a new reality, however unlikely that is.
I make my way to the decadent buffet table with Croquembouche towers, macrons, bowls of fruit, crab puffs, and pretty much any other thing you could be craving. With a plate in hand, I work to stab at melon balls.
