Or really, my whole life.
I’m giddy as I email my current clients I’ve been planning proposals, anniversary celebrations, and special nights for,telling them I’ll finish up their dates, and then I’ll be stepping back.
I go to my website and I disable the submissions form. I go to socials, and I flip the sign to closed for all intents and purposes, writing “not open to new clients.” Exuberance, thy name is Remy.
And as the bus trundles toward the arena, the fearsome fox statue growing bigger and bigger, I pop into the group chat with my friends.
Remy: Attention. Your resident type-A, tightly-wound, spreadsheet-nerd, turns-over-ten-thousand-iterations-of-everything girlie has an announcement.
Trevyn: You finally got that nipple piercing?
Skylar: You adopted a dog so Simon will finally have a cousin? *inserts praying paws emoji*
Mabel: Dude? Where did you find a praying paws emoji?
Skylar: I made it myself. Have you heard of the Internet, Mabel? You can do pretty much anything on it.
Clementine: Like respond to a friend WHO SAID SHE HAS AN ANNOUNCEMENT. Remy, I’ve got my earmuffs on since I presume this is about my brother. If you’re going to mention you got that new life-changing toy I told you about last month, I’m going to see myself out of this chat.
Trevyn: As if you could ever see yourself out of anything, Miss Has To Know Everything.
Mabel: And I believe you just described all of us! Anyway, Remy, is it that you nabbed some superstar celebrity client? Ooh, I bet that’s it, and I am so proud of you! I knew you could do it. I bet it’s one of the female hockey players! Their stars have been rising ever since they won the championship last season.
I’m walking past the fox statue by the time I finally respond. But I’m laughing, feeling a little over the moon. Nervous, of course. But in a good way as I head into the great unknown. I stop at the statue to reply, pushing my bag back up my shoulder. I pat it for good measure—I have my jersey in it that Lake gave me. I can’t wear it on the tour, but I’m yanking it back on the second I hit the spa. Let Jameson squirm.
Remy: I shut down Romance By Design! And I couldn’t be happier. I’ll tell you more when we play pickleball again, but I wanted to let you all know. Also, wish me luck. I think I’m going to go talk to my boss about the job I really want.
Mabel: Holy shit, you have ovaries. That’s big.
Clementine: Sometimes knowing what you don’t want is as important as knowing what you do.
Trevyn: Girl, that is not what I expected, and this is much better news than a piercing. And you should still get a piercing to celebrate.
Skylar: We all need to celebrate you. Let’s do something fun after pickleball. Ideally, involving frothy drinks rather than exercise. And good luck with the boss. He’ll be a fool not to hire you.
I push open the door to the arena, stop at security, then pass the giant posters of the hockey players. I smile, a private one as I walk by Lake’s, and his words at the door echo in my mind.We’ll figure it out.Maybe soon, we can figure out if our little fling can turn into something more. If it does, I won’t even need to tell Daniel we split up. I won’t need to tell anyone it’s ended.
The list, the finishing of it, the what comes next.We’ll figure it out.
I clutch those four words tight in my hands, a precious sentence, a promise. They give me an extra boost of confidence as I march through the arena, ready to tell Daniel I’m closing my burgeoning business. It’s a little bittersweet to believe something will be your special thing and it turns out you just don’t love it.
But there is something I do love. Helping. Charity. Giving back. And planning events that celebrate those things.
With a fleet of nerves docking in my chest, I trot up the stairwell to the second floor, figuring Daniel will be working today, since we have a game tonight. I also saw the schedule for the day and there’s an interview with the general manager, Theo Llewelyn, on a prominent sports podcast, so that’ll keep my boss busy pre-game. I march down the hall toward his office, spotting him at his desk on the phone. He motions for me to come in.
“Sounds great. Love Anna Piper over here. I’d put her toe-to-toe against any of the guys on the team,” he says tosomeone on the phone, then mouths “Hi”, and nods to a chair.
I grab a seat, even though I’d rather stand. Too much energy. But I wait as he finishes up his call. When he ends it, he says to me, “Try not to be too excited, but Anna Piper is joining the VIP tour today.”
My jaw drops. “The play-by-play announcer for the Vancouver team, and one of the greatest players ever?” I ask, even though of course I know who she is.
“Yup. She’ll be here anyway with Vancouver and thought it would be fun to see the arena. She’s as good a sportscaster as she was in skates.”
“Queen. She’s a queen,” I say, and I can be a queen too, in my own way. By taking ownership of my choices.
“What can I do for you? You’re all set for the tour in thirty minutes? Early of course.”
“I always am,” I say, then take a breath, and wait one second for another flurry of nerves but they don’t come. Maybe figuring out what you want gives you a newfound calm, something I rarely feel. “I wanted to let you know I can plan that birthday celebration for you and your hubs, but I need to do it as a friend. No fee.”
