I’m hesitant to answer. Rodney has been there for me since the beginning of my career. He’s helped me figure out the steps I needed to take to become successful. Although he’s helped me get clients I’ve enjoyed working with, there’s this discontent when I think about him. Maybe it’s time to find a new mentor, or someone else who can help me succeed. He’s not my boss, but we’ve worked so closely together that he kind of feels like a boss to me. How do you tell your mentor that you want to fire them? Can you even do that?
I mull over the way Rodney treated Mateo at the gala we went too. The memory leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I don’t want to associate with someone who treats my husband that way, and even if Rodney had drank too much that night and didn’t realize how rude and mean he was being, I won't put up with it.
My mind wrestles over whether or not to answer for another second before my inner people-pleaser wins, and I answer.
“Hello?”
“Good, you answered. I didn’t know if that backwards town you went to visit had cell reception or not.” Rodney’s dismissive tone grates on my nerves.
Okay, so no pleasantries. Very odd and not like him. “Um, yeah, they have good reception out here sometimes.”
“Good, good. Well, I’ve been keeping track of your fame with the press. Things have died down after you and that farm boy released your wedding photos. Now that men aren’t chasing after you, you can focus on getting more large-named clients. I’m hosting a get together next week. You need to be there. Do not bring that redneck with you. You only need to flash that wedding ring, not the man himself. Having him hang on you will put off the potential male clients.”
I am unbelievably offended right now. Did he just say what I think hesaid? “Rodney, what are you saying?”
Rodney scoffs. “I’m saying come to the party, but don’t bring your husband.”
I sit up, indignation giving me new life. “What if I want to bring him? I don’t like going to parties without him.”
“You don’t need him anymore now that you’re married. You just need to be technically off the market.”
Goosebumps race up my arms. “Rodney, this doesn’t feel right.”
“Well, do you want to do what feels right for you? Or what’s going to be right for your career?”
Nope. I am not thinking about this right now. I am not discussing this with the man who doesn’t appreciate my husband. “You know what, Rodney? I can’t talk to you right now. I need to figure some things out.”
“But Holly, we need to talk about—”
“No. No, we don’t need to talk about it. I’m literally on vacation. I am not thinking or talking about work right now.”
Rodney huffs. “It’s your career on the line.”
Good thing I don’t care about my career anymore. “Goodbye, Rodney.”
The line clicks, and I throw my phone into the pillow.
I rub my eyes and groan, even more conflicting emotions roiling inside of me.
Rodney has changed in the last year, and I’m glad I’m finally waking up to it. Because this is unacceptable. I didn’t expect him to have such low morals, and it’s giving me the creeps. I’m married to Mateo, and although I’m glad my name is out of the press, there is so much more at stake now.
Namely, my feelings and my happiness.
I slide off the bed and onto my knees, praying to the God I should have included in this scheme from the beginning. I take a deep breath and calm my troubled thoughts.
“God, please help me. Please help me to know what to do. I’m in love with Mateo, but I don’t feel good enough for him. I’m starting to hate myjob and am feeling unsettled whenever I talk to Rodney. I’m so confused, and I know that I’m just barely learning about You, but I ask that You will help me. Momma T said You love me, and I felt that earlier. Please let me feel that again. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”
I stay on my knees, waiting.
Waiting for what, I’m not sure, but the longer I stay on my knees, the more it feels as if the weight on my shoulders lifts off. The tears I didn’t even realize were leaking from my eyes dry up and my mind slows. Warmth grows in my chest, the same kind I felt at Momma T’s house.
There’s no voice or miraculous revelation, and I’m okay with that.
Because He answered my prayer.
I crawl into bed and wrap myself in the flower quilt on top of the bed. My eyes close as I focus on the warmth, the feeling that is an answer in and of itself, as it lulls me to sleep.
I get dressed in a simple shift dress, one that feels understated and appropriate for church. I walk out to the kitchen just as Mateo walks in. He’s dressed in blue slacks and a white, short-sleeve button-up. There’s a plate in his hand which he offers to me, and I pick a blueberry muffin from the assortment.
