“This is going to be good for the both of us,” she says. “Together, there’s nothing we can’t do.” My heart flutters at her words. Maybe she’s finally seeing me as a fellow writer. As a peer. Maybe she’ll even want to write something together. I’m about to suggest it when my phone rings, flashing my dad’s name across the screen.
“I have to take this. You just relax for a bit, and I’ll meet you downstairs in ten. Also, would you be able to leave out some food for Ollie?”
“I already have his water and food bowls set. The treat dispenser is also fully stocked and ready to go.” I give her a thumbs-up and check on Ollie one more time. He’s lounging on the couch with his favorite toy, looking happy as a clam and barely noticing me. I give him a quick kiss and hurry out of the apartment, accepting my dad’s call along the way. “Hi, Dad,” I say, closing the door behind me.
“Hey, Winnie. How’s your trip going?”
“It’s going great. The show’s tonight so I’ll be running around for most of the day. How are you? How’s Cassie?” I swing open the stairwell door and start to make my way down.
“She’s doing good. We’re both good. I have some news.” He pauses, and it makes my pace falter. “Someone put an offer in on the house yesterday, and I accepted.”
I stop walking then, gripping the metal banister tight in my now clammy grip. “Wow,” I answer. “That was fast, huh?”
“Yeah, well, they’re a young family who have been looking in the neighborhood for quite some time, so they were anxious to move forward. It looks like we’ll be closing in less than a month.”
I can feel something inside me starting to break, but I make myself hold the crumbling pieces together. “That’s really exciting stuff, Dad. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” he says, sounding a little relieved. “Cassie and I were surprised at how fast everything happened, but I suppose it’s a good thing that it won’t be a long, drawn-out process. And now we can go ahead and start looking for our new place in Arizona.”
I nod my head, wishing my dad could see me since the tightness in my throat is making talking difficult. “I’m really going to miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you, too. But anytime you want to see me, you’re more than welcome to visit. We’re going to make sure we buy a place with a spacious spare bedroom. Cassie says we’ll call it the Winnie Suite, and it will be ready for you anytime you want it.” I don’t know why, but the thought makes me tear up. “And I know we’re moving to be closer to Cassie’s family, but I want you to know that this is very hard on her, too. She really struggled with the idea of leaving you.”
Leaving me.
He’s leaving me. Cassie’s leaving me. My mom left me. I’m just a leave-able kind of person, I guess. As quickly as it came, I try to force that last inclination out of my head, knowing it’s only clawing its way in because I’m feeling weak and emotional. I have no space for that in my life, but it feels quite at home at the moment.
I end up sitting down on the stairs as I wipe away an errant tear. “Listen, Dad, I have to go, but I’ll be home in a few days. I’ll come over and see you guys right away.”
“I’m looking forward to it. And you know...” He trails off, and I find myself holding my breath as he goes on, “I love you, Winnie. You do know that, don’t you?”
“I know, Dad,” I say a little brokenly. I didn’t realize just how badly I needed to hear that. “I love you, too. I’ll see you soon.”
“See you soon.”
He hangs up, and I continue to sit there, lost and confused. I’m considering stopping in the studio to throw some cold water in my face when a stream of dings sounds from my phone. Realizing they’re from my grad school group chat, I open the text conversation that’s now in full swing.
Professor Jack, I just saw the job listing for your theater company on theaterconnect.com. As someone who considers themselves to be a son-like figure to you, I’m very curious on your stance on nepotism. Personally, I support it wholeheartedly.
Another text:
I would like to point out that I am both artistic and very direct—thus I would make an exemplary artistic director. Please consider this my resume cover letter.
And yet another:
Now, we all know that I’m not the kind of person who would fight or compete with my friends over a job, so I just want to let everyone in this chat to know, straight up, we are no longer friends, and this position is mine. Sorry not sorry. Also, Megan, happy birthday.
Well, it looks like the job is posted.
I feel slightly panicked as I mentally go over my interview with Suzanne, suddenly doubting just how well our phone call went last night. I’m just at the point of spiraling when I then get a private message from Professor Jack.
Hey, Winnie. I’m sure you can tell from the barrage of activity in the group chat that we posted the job position today. But not to worry, because I’m thrilled to report that Suzanne absolutely loved you, and the job is as good as yours pending your in-person interview once you get back to New York! I truly do believe that this is going to be the perfect fit, and I couldn’t be more excited to see all the value that I know you will bring to the team. Let me know once you’re back in the city and we’ll get your final interview lined up. More to come soon!
And just like that, happiness floods my system. For the first time in a very long time, I feel genuinely proud of myself. There is a definite chance that I am going to be an artistic director. Victory still seems like such a foreign concept to me, but now it’s within reach. All that’s left to do is to complete the in-person interview and accept the offer. And then, of course, I’ll have to tell Juliette. That brings me plummeting back to earth quickly enough, wondering how she’ll respond when I give her the news.
I don’t dwell on the thought, though, as I quickly realize that Juliette is most likely waiting for me at this very moment. I spring up and rush down the stairs, hitting the lobby running just as she steps out of the elevator.
“Ready?” she asks, taking in my somewhat heavy breathing and frazzled state.
