That was the first in a series of events that led me back here, to a city that’s full of happy memories and most of my favourite people.
“It’s all going to work out,” Drew says, bringing me back to the present.She’s always had a knack for that.“I’m sure it’s hard to believe right now, but it will.”When my only response is a dubious grunt of acknowledgement, she adds, “What would Fern tell you in a moment like this?”
My lips twitch, and Drew’s do the same.She’s the first to break, and her lighthearted giggle is music to my ears.In the seventeen years we’ve known Fern Anderson, she’s gone through many phases, with varied interests, jobs, and hobbies.She’s always been into spirituality and the metaphysical, and often speaks in terms of manifestation and neuroscience.Despite some occasional good-natured ribbing from us, Drew and I can admit we’ve learned a lot from Fern over the years.We’ve often joked about getting shirts made that read, ‘WWFS?’—What Would Fern Say?’
“Wait, I know!”Drew says suddenly, her voice vibrating with the tail end of her laughter.“Ready?‘Sometimes things have to fall apart in order for something better to fall into place.’”
I eye her skeptically.“So basically, my life fell apart so I can rebuild it?”
“Yes!I mean, you were in love with Rodger, but in your heart, youknewyou weren’t meant to be.You admitted you were worried about keeping him from his destiny or whatever.”
I sputter out a laugh, but she waves me off and continues.“You weren’t happy in Toronto.You’d grown to hate your job.”She ticks these off on her fingers as she speaks.“And then there was the worst thing of all: being three hours away fromme.”
Once again, she’s not wrong.I had friends in Toronto, but my connections with other people always paled in comparison to the bond I have with Drew.She’s also right about growing to dislike both the city and my job.When I moved in with a coworker who was renting her spare bedroom, my attempt to apartment hunt was half-hearted at best.It was as if I instinctively knew my time in Toronto had run its course.The city felt too big, too noisy, toomuch, especially after the breakup.
As for my job, until four years ago, I had a fulfilling career as an editor for a boutique publisher that specialized in women’s fiction, romance, and romantic suspense.I loved how I got to be a vital part of helping authors’ dreams come true.Unfortunately, with constant shifts in publishing and the economy, the owners ran into financial problems, and their solution was to allow a well-known publishing house to acquire them.
We went from producing quality novels, usually by lesser-known writers, to churning out books that were sure to be bestsellers.AndIwent from believing my work mattered to feeling like a cog in a machine whose only goal was speed and output.I spent years saying I was going to find a job somewhere else, but I never did.By the time rumours started circulating about redundancies, I found myself hoping I would be one of the people asked to pack up their desk.I got my wish a few weeks later, and made arrangements that night to return to Kingston to live with Drew and her husband.
“So you’re saying some cosmic force caused me to lose my boyfriend, my condo, and my job all so I’d end up back here?”
“Yes, Abigail, that isexactlywhat I’m saying,” Drew says in an airy tone that has me suppressing another laugh.“The universe knew you were unhappy, so it brought you to me, the same way it did all those years ago when we ended up in the same group home.”
Fern must be rubbing off on me more than I realized because I can’t help believing in what Drew just said.And despite her light tone and the gleam that’s returned to her eyes, I think she believes it too.
My phone lights up with a notification.Before I can reach for it, Drew scoops it up and examines the screen with a strange, unreadable expression.
“What?”I ask.“Who is it?”
“Hmm?”A trace of a wistful smile tugs at her lips.“Oh, it’s an email notification from one of the job-hunting sites you’re subscribed to.I was looking at your wallpaper, though.I love this picture.”
I shift closer so I can see the screen.I have my wallpaper set to rotate between about a dozen photos, mostly favourites of Drew and me, plus some of us with Brodie and Fern, or ‘The Crew’ as we’ve called ourselves since university.After Rodger and I broke up, I replaced the photos of us with a few older favourites.
The image on screen now is one of me at the top of the Vennel Steps in Edinburgh, Scotland.In a sea of grey—the surrounding buildings, with Edinburgh Castle in the background and steely clouds hanging heavy in the sky—my red jacket is the only pop of colour.That’s what would likely draw most people’s eye, but what I see is a version of myself I’ve nearly forgotten existed: eyes bright, smile wide, posture relaxed.As the photographer of our friend group, I’m most comfortable behind the camera, and often end up looking and feeling awkward in photos.This one, though...despite being genuinely happy in that moment, I think my open expression and body language had as much to do with the man behind the camera as anything else.
“Want some help picking your outfit for tonight?”Drew asks, completely unaware of where my thoughts have strayed.At my absent nod, she hops off the bed and crosses the room to my closet.
I half-listen as she goes through my meagre wardrobe, talking mostly to herself as she proposes potential outfits.My eyes are glued to my phone, and my mind is travelling back to when the photo was taken.
I’ve never admitted it out loud and I rarely allow myself to acknowledge it privately, but the four weeks I spent in Scotland were the happiest I’ve ever been.I’ve spent the last fourteen years chasing that feeling.After a lifetime of living with a heavy weight pressing on my chest, I finally took my first-ever deep breath when we arrived in Edinburgh.The notions of ‘home’ and ‘belonging’ were only ever something I’d experienced with my grandmother and then Drew, but I felt at home in Edinburgh.I felt like I belonged there.
And then I went and fucked it all up.
