And I’m on edge because I don’t know where Peter is right now. I mean, he’s in Miami. But I don’t know how he’s taken everything happening between us since he hasn’t communicated at all. He hasn’t been gone two days and I’m already silently panicking that he gave up on us and that I pushed away the first and only chance I’ll have to be in a relationship that makes me truly happy.
Maybe I should have realized it in the moment and not after Peter left. I wouldn’t give him any assurances. I didn’t promise him anything and then I sent him to… Miami? I’m too old to be freaking out over this type of stuff. But the racing heart and fluttery nerves feel strangely good, even if I should be way too old for that type of thing.
Rana heads towards the trail entrance and I follow her, appreciative of her reasonable pace from the outset. She gives me a quick work update because we work at a law office and rarely have a conversation that doesn’t involve talking about work. Then Rana slows down and my sixth sense tells me that I’m about to hear what shereallywants to talk about.
“I got into law school,” she says. “But I didn’t get into any near Buffalo.”
“You got in!?” I ask her, genuine excitement rising in my chest. “Where?”
Rana takes a sip from her gigantic water bottle, letting the suspense almost kill me.
“Notre Dame,” she says finally. The calculation kicks in. Notre Dame is hours away from Buffalo and our office. Which means that Rana is finally done with being my best paralegal and moving on to other things. Possibly forever. I stop walking and look at her with the mixture of pride and sadness that comesfrom mentoring someone and watching them surpass even my wildest expectations for them.
“You’re leaving.”
Rana nods. Her eyes welling with tears that she doesn’t bother to hide. Letting out a loud wail, she gives up on holding it together and throws her arms around me. I’ve slowly grown more comfortable with affection – from everyone. I hug Rana back and hold her tightly, quietly appreciating the years she worked at my office and the very real friendship we discovered pulling all-nighters and growing my law firm the past few years.
I don’twanther to leave, but I can’t deny Rana the growth I know she’s worked so hard for. When she showed up at my office, she’d faced two years straight of rejection from law school. Nobody wanted to hire her as a paralegal and she was about to give up on her dream.
“You’re going to be amazing…”
“Thanks,” she says. “I’m so scared, Aricia.”
I pull away from her and look her straight in the eye to give her some real talk.
“You will do just fine, Rana. You’re a survivor. All women are survivors. And youcando this.”
“You really think so?”
“Of course. And I’ll make sure when you leave that accounting gives you a nice bonus so you can get on your feet when you move. I just want you to promise me one thing.”
“I would literally die for you,” she says, expressing her hyperbolic Gen Z emotions in a way that leaves no question about how she feels. We hug each other again and Rana’s shoulders relax.
“Promise me that you will take care of yourself the way you take care of me.”
Rana squeezes me tightly and nods. “I will. I promise.”
We pull away from each other and Rana’s eyes well with hopefully happy tears.
“I was so scared of telling you,” she says. “It makes it all feel so real.”
“You should be proud of yourself,” I tell her. “You’ve worked hard and if nothing else, I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, Aricia. It means a lot.”
We walk a little more and I almost get away with keeping my concerns about Peter to myself. There’s plenty to discuss about Rana’s news. She’s clearly worried about how she’ll adjust to life in the Midwest, leaving her friends and leaving her job. I try to offer as much support as I can.
Rana won’t let me get away with saying nothing about Peter.
“Did you message Peter about this Miami trip?” she asks me when we get to the part of the trail that loops around back to the entrance. We have to walk a mile and a half back so unless I start running, I won’t be able to avoid this topic of conversation.
“No. I have no clue what he’s doing down there.”
“Have you guys made it official yet?”
“The only thing I’ve made official is that I’m keeping this baby. I don’t think Peter will be an obstacle there.”
“That’s it? He won’t be an obstacle.”
