They’d made me feel pretty terrible about taking those initial two weeks off. Mr. Harper was insistent that they couldn’t function without me—I’d never taken more than a day off in almost six years—but that was exactly why I needed it.
When I’d called to let them know I’d be extending my vacation another month, Mrs. Harper sighed and said they’d start looking for my replacement.
I wasn’t hurt by that—I realize they need someone managing their appointments and answering their phones. I probably could’ve run their social media while volunteering at the sanctuary, but they never even tried to explore options with me. In fact, I haven’t heard from anyone in the family since that phone call.
I just want to pick up a few things I’ve left behind and say an official goodbye to everyone. Some resentment has built up over the years, but we’ve had a lot of good times together. I’m proud of their success and the business I feel that I’ve helped them build. Their faces wink from house signs and billboards all over town; I just hope they’ll pay their next administrative assistant more.
“Hi, welcome to Harper Realty. How can we help you find your dream home?”
“Hi, I’m Junie. I’m just here to pick up some things I left in my desk?”
“Oh, the old assistant! Mr. Harper had me put everything in a box in the back. I can go get it for you!” Her smile is bright and overly perky. I wonder if I ever looked like that greeting customers.
“Do you mind if I go grab it? I’d like to say hello to everyone.” I want to thank them for everything they’ve done for me and let them know I’m leaving the country for good. It may not have always been a pleasure working here, but they’d given me my first job out of college and I’ve grown a lot with them. Havingfree rein over so many projects helped me develop the skills and confidence that are going to make freelancing possible.
The girl’s mouth twists into an unpleasant pout.
“Let me just go check with Mr. Harper. It’s a staff-only area.”
My smile grows brittle. I know it is, I hung the “Employees Only” sign with my own hands, but I merely nod and fold my arms across my chest to wait.
She slips behind the door while I scan the room. So many pictures over the years, including one from Opening Day. I look so young and eager, ready for anything. I feel that same energy now when I think of Steven and living near the ocean. That same flutter of possibility.
A few minutes later, the girl returns with a large cardboard box.
“He’s on a call right now and doesn’t want to be disturbed,” she says, shuffling it into my arms. “But feel free to stop by any time! I’m sure they’d love to see you now that you’re back.”
I try not to let the disappointment melt into hurt, but a strange ache seems to radiate through my chest. I glance into the box and see a photo of me and David piled on top. It reminds me of the first few days after the break up and I feel sick.
It hurts to realize someone you love only ever cared what you could do for them.
I could have left a note, or tried harder to have a last goodbye with the family I’ve worked with for the past six years, but what would be the point? There’s nothing else they need from me.
And there’s nothing I need from them.
That chapter of my life is firmly over. This visit is just about wrapping up loose ends and letting everyone know. The guilt-free era of my one wild and precious life starts now. For once, I’m doing whatIwant to do.
And I want to do a hot scuba instructor with a delicious accent.
*****
But first I have to deal with my ex.
We meet at a cafe on Main Street and I try not to look visibly anxious as I wait for him to arrive. I’ve got a few of his things in a garbage bag under the table—I was too angry this morning to find something more suitable. The time for moving boxes was over a month ago, and he couldn’t be arsed. My lip twitches at the corner when I realize that’s a Steven phrase slipping into my lexicon.
“Junie, looking lovely as always.” His voice sounds oily and drips condescension as he pulls out a chair and sits across from me.
“David,” I say evenly, hands wrapped around my coffee mug.
“I’m glad you’re back. I’ve missed you so much. About last night—”
“I need you to explain last night, but also the last month. Why are you still living in Grannie’s house?” I go for the jugular. I don’t want to spend any longer here than I have to.
His mouth presses into a thin line like I’ve just interrupted a memorized speech. Did he practice it on the drive over?
“Sweetheart.” He reaches out as if to touch my hand, but lets it drop when I don’t move. I pull my shoulders back and meet his eyes, daring him to lie to me. “You were so upset when you leftfor your trip. You were still grieving. I admit, I didn’t know how to support you.”
“Fuck grieving. You watched me talk about this trip for months.”
