Page 14 of A Whole New Play

I park my car and lean back in my seat, staring out the front window. “I know this all seems sudden,” I say softly, “but the truth is I’ve been thinking I need a change for a while. It all just came to a head yesterday, and I made the leap. I’m sorry I left town without telling you first. I just didn’t want to risk changing my mind.”

“I get it. I do. I’m just going to miss having you around.”

“I know. Me, too.” No matter how chaotic my work was, Megan and I always found time to catch up once a week. I’m going to miss seeing my best friend so often. “But like I said, this isn’t forever. I just needed a little break.”

“If you say so.” I can hear the disbelief in her words. “Just promise you’ll text me every day. I’ll need to get my Valerie fix somehow.”

“I promise.” I look across the parking lot and see a group of muscular men exiting the training facility. Their sweaty shirts and duffle bags hiked over their tired shoulders tell me they just finished practice. “I’ve got to go,” I tell Megan. “I’ll text you later.”

“You better.”

The call ends. and I’m out of my car and walking towards the building, smiling politely when I make eye contact with one of the men as he veers off from the group and approaches his car.

I’m steps away from the front door when the phone in my hand buzzes. I look down and frown before declining the incoming call. That’s the fourth time my boss has called this morning. If I had to guess, he didn’t believe I was serious when I quit yesterday. I sent my formal resignation letter to him this morning, copying HR on the email. I bet he’s calling to try to convince me to change my mind, but it’s too late for that.

The tight pain in my chest that’s become a consistent sensation in my post-college life isn’t gone, but it’s lessened significantly ever since I uttered the words, “I quit”. I’m anxious about what’s going to come next for me, but this anxiety isn’t the same as the feeling that used to leave me breathless right before I had to make a presentation for my superiors.

Is this how normal people feel?

I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t debilitatingly stressed about something.

I turn my phone on silent, tuck it in the purse hanging across my body, and step inside the building. I’m greeted by a friendly receptionist tucked behind a massive mahogany desk in the foyer. A security guard stands not too far away. I ignore his scrutiny and give my name to the young woman. Dad already gave security my name, so I’m handed a visitor’s badge and sent on my way to find his office within minutes.

The halls leading towards the coaches’ offices are empty, but loud music plays up ahead. I follow the sound to what turns out to be a state-of-the-art weight room. I only see a couple of men inside. I only spare them a glance, but it’s enough to notice that they’re each tall, buff, and broad.

I move away from the weight room, following the receptionist’s directions to find Dad’s office. I pass a locker room and am nearly knocked over by two children who come racing out of the room, bringing with them the musty aroma of sweat. I watch the young boy chasing after the girl, both of them giggling as they run down the hall. They turn left and disappear.

I have half a mind to follow to make sure they’re okay but think better of it. This is a secure training facility. Whoever their caretaker is clearly isn’t concerned with their safety if they’re letting them run around alone.

With a judgmental shake of my head, I continue on my way to my dad’s office. Most of the doors are closed in this hallway, but one is propped open. I approach and see my dad’s name on the placard on the wall. I knock on the door frame and step inside.

Dad looks up from his laptop screen, reading glasses perched on his nose. “Valerie!” He removes his glasses and stands, rounding the desk in two steps.

“Hey, Dad.” I walk into his open arms with a wide smile. Muscular arms wrap around me, and he lifts me off my feet. It’s the same way he’s hugged me ever since I was a preschooler, and I love it. Coach Nathan Palmer might look intimidating at six-five and over two hundred and fifty pounds, but he’s a giant teddy bear to his only child.

Dad holds me tight. “How are you? How was the drive?”

I wait until he puts me on my feet to answer. “The drive was good. Hardly any traffic. And I’m good.”

He keeps his hands on my shoulders but takes a step back to look me up and down. “You sure you’re okay? It isn’t like you to be so impulsive.” He sounds like Megan.

“Yes, I’m sure. I just needed a change. Working at the firm wasn’t good for me.” I shrug, hoping my nonchalance is convincing.

His frown tells me it isn’t. “Did something happen?”

Other than feeling like my soul was being sucked out of me and life was passing me by?

No.

Nothing happened.

“No, Dad.” I force my lips into a reassuring smile. The last thing I want to do is worry him. “Like I said on the phone, I just need a change. I plan to take some time to figure out what I want out of life.”

“I know. I just can’t remember the last time you didn’t have a plan or goal to accomplish. It’s not like you not to have direction.”

That’s the point.

My smile falters, but I will it to stay in place. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

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