He narrows his eyes. “I’m not following.”
“Without this job,” I continue calmly, “you don’t have anything to hold over me.”
His confusion deepens along with his frown.
“I don’t have to worry about who might see me with Perry. I don’t have to worry about propriety or any of the other bullshit buzzwords you and others use to keep people in their place.”
He opens his mouth. Closes it.
“See you later, Meron,” I add, climbing into my truck. I shut the door before he can recalibrate.
He stands there, genuinely perplexed. As I start the engine, I watch him in the side mirror. He remains frozen for a second. Then he pulls out his phone. Calling Amber, I imagine. To inform her that their carefully orchestrated pressure tactic has backfired.
The thought of her disappointment makes my smile grow. I pull out of the parking lot without another glance. The sun is fully up now, the world brightening with my mood. I feel lighter than I have in years.
I don’t go home immediately. I drive.
The roads are mostly empty at this hour—early commuters already at work, school traffic finished. Snow Valley looks deceptively harmless in daylight. Brick storefronts. Trimmed hedges. The illusion of contained lives. The occasional orange leaf dancing in the wind along the sidewalk.
For years, I’ve allowed this place to define the perimeter of my decisions. Allowed reputation to sit quietly in the back seat like a supervisor I never asked for.
Meron believes he can leverage his authority to make me his puppet.
Amber believes she can manipulate the world around her.
For years, they were correct. That’s how Snow Valley operates, and they were working within that structure. What none of them seem to grasp is that money bypasses all of their bullshit. I’m not financially tethered to the hospital. I work because I choose to. If that choice becomes a leash, I can remove it.
I pull into my driveway and sit in the truck for a moment, hands resting loosely on the steering wheel. This is not impulsive. This is clarity.
I reach for my phone.
Perry answers on the third ring. “Hey,” she says, slightly breathless.
“Morning.”
“You sound…awake.”
“I am. For the first time in a long time.”
There’s a small pause. “That sounds ominous.”
“It isn’t.” I shift in my seat. “I’d like to take you to Jason’s wedding.”
Silence. Then a short, incredulous laugh. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“That’s bold.”
“You like bold.”
She exhales slowly. “What about Amber? And Meron? Are they going to make your life miserable if we show up together?”
“They don’t get to do that anymore. I’ve decided to go into private practice.” It’s not entirely decided. But it is now inevitable.
There’s a pause on her end. “Wow. That’s a big deal, Damian. Are you sure?”
“It’s time.”
