As in three days from now.
As in, I better get my ass in gear real quick.
“Again, I appreciate the offer. Thank you, Dick—Richard.” I reach out to shake his hand, knowing this will, thankfully, be the last time I have to see the man who I’ve grown to dislike a lot over the past few years.
“We’ll miss you around here. Good luck, Scarlett.”
I pull in a lung full of air and walk out the door as he’s opening it, unable to bring myself to voice a similar sentiment in return.
While making my way past the front desk, Tatiana is eagerly waiting to hear what happened, or so it looks by the questioning smile stretched across her face. I give her a thumbs-up as I walk by, knowing Dick is on my heels. Tatiana and I weren’t close since we never worked a shift together, but we passed each other during shift changes. “Good luck!” she offers.
“Thank you! Same to you,” I reply, sincerely, but also glad it’s, and not me, who has to continue working with Dick. Maybe I’ll make more meaningful friendships down in South Carolina. I certainly did a shitty job at maintaining those here, except for Brendan, but he’s like the easiest person to be friends with. He’s there when you need him and quiet when you don’t. I’m the same way with him. It’s perfect.
The moment I step back out into the rain, I see a break in the clouds. How symbolic. I can only hope it’s a little foreshadowing of my future as a Southerner. With relief pouring through me, I pull my phone out of my bag and dial Brendan’s number. That man lives with his phone in his right hand, so I don’t think the phone even rings once before I hear his voice on the other end of the line.
“What happened? Is it a go? I’ve been sitting by the phone for the past two hours schvitzing to death.”
“You were what?” I ask him.
“Sorry, it’s Yiddish. I was sweating to death.”
“Oh … well, it was touch and go there for a minute as Dick attempted to teach me a lesson about life choices, but it’s all good. We leave Sunday. Or, I leave Sunday. I don’t know how fast you can have your life packed up.”
“Sunday, it is. I’m packed up and ready to go, babe. It’s you who has a room full of shit that needs to find a home.”
Right. That. I’m moving, not going on vacation. This should be fun.
“I’ve already started a pile of trash, donation, and things to take.”
“Oh, it’s like a dream come true for you,” I joke.
“It was like orgasming. Honestly, it’s just invigorating to consider the thought of burning some of that shit from the nineties you persist in holding onto.”
“Ten years until the style comes back,” I argue. “I want those jeans you’re referring to by the way.”
“All ten pairs of low-waisted, bootcut, dark denim? You haven’t worn them in the whole time I’ve known you. You have taste, and those are not tasteful. Plus, sweetie, you’re a woman now, not a teenage girl with no curves. Oh, and those Candie’s Mary Janes are going too.”
“I love those!”
“Okay, well you don’t wear those either, and you might need to turn them in for a pair of cowboy boots.”
“Brenny, darling, I told you we aren’t heading out west to the deserts with tumbleweeds.”
“Have you even taken geography?” he asks.
“Yes. Have you?”
“No.”
“Awesome. Well, I guess this is just going to be one big surprise for both of us, but even more so for you,” I tell him.
“Or, we can Google the town and find out what we’re getting ourselves into.”
“Mmm, I’d rather be surprised. Google can be deceiving with their drone cameras plopping random pictures all over the Internet.”
“Well, suit yourself, but I’ve been Googling all day.”
“I don’t want to know,” I tell him.
“Um, I think you kinda do want to know.”
“No. No, no, no. I’ll hang up on you if you say anything else.”
“I’ll torture you when you get back home then. Love you!”
He’s exaggerating. He likes to do that. He always does that. I’m sure it’s just like any other town with hotels in it. I’m not worried. It’ll be fine.
