Page 121 of Home of the Brave

“But maybe you’ll give long-distance a try?”

The thought of ending things with Josh when this tournament was over, which it would be in thirty minutes, minus the gala and other festivities, was devastating. Enough to make my legs go weak. I didn’t want to picture myself going home and falling back into the routine of my life. I didn’t want to think about not being in the same city. Of not seeing him every day. Of life alone.

Again.

If nothing else, this assignment forced me to recognize and admit that I’ve been lonely. I had friends, but they were actually coworkers. I was busy, but there was more to life than work.

I’ve been fighting to ignore that for years. I’ve thrown myself into my career to hide from the pain of losing my hockey dreams. I created a new obsession to dedicate all the hours I once spent on practice and games. I didn’t love journalism, not like I used to try to convince myself I did.

It was a link to keep me close to the sport I’d spent my whole life around. My universe had always orbited around hockey; I’d picked a career to make sure that didn’t change.

But did I love it like I proclaimed I did?

Parts of it, yes.

Most of it, no.

I loved the athletes. I loved the game.

But I loathed being told to cover other sports.

I hated being told what to report on; not the stories that interested me, but what would make my company money. I loathed being told to cover other sports.

I wanted to dig into the personal aspects, to get into the why for each player. I wanted to know what it was that kept them going. Why they dedicated their lives to their sport, like I once had.

Instead, I have to ask the same scripted questions to get the same scripted answers. Over and over.

I didn’t even get to interview the people I wanted.

Why was I doing this?

I turned to Cambrie. “Do you really like what you do?”

She didn’t answer immediately, taking time to consider. Maybe she could feel the weight of my need for her true answer.

“I told you, I do. Even the bad assignments are worth it.”

I leaned against the wall, feeling suddenly exhausted. “I don’t.”

“Not everyone does. Sometimes the unfortunate need to work to survive is our reality. Not everyone gets to do their dream job.”

I nodded.

“But that’s not you, Victoria. You have other people’s dream job. You’re in a position many people spend years fighting for, but never make it.”

I looked up from the cement floor to meet her eyes. “So I should be grateful for what I have?”

She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. You have the unique opportunity to leverage what you have in order to get what you want.”

I didn’t understand, and she must have seen my confusion.

“What do you want?”

“I’m not sure. I do like writing, and I feel like I don’t get to do enough of that. Maybe I should be less of a reporter and more of an analyst? Maybe I can write articles instead.”

She cocked her head. “No Victoria. I don’t mean what job do you want. What do you want from life?”

I wasn’t sure I knew that answer any better than the first.