Page 13 of A Whole New Play

I cringe. “Sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry and tell me what’s going on,” she demands. “You’re worrying me.”

I know I am. I’m worrying myself.

I take a deep breath and try to get my thoughts in order so I can try and explain what’s going on to my best friend. “Well, I quit my job yesterday.”

“Yes, you’ve said that. But why?”

This is the hard part.

How do I tell Megan that misery has been suffocating me for years?

How do I explain it reached the point where I broke down yesterday when my boss asked me to cancel my scheduled PTO and have a new client proposal ready to present on Monday?

And how do I reveal it all escalated because of what a stranger said to me over three months ago?

I’ve done such a good job at hiding my problems for so long, it’s hard to admit them out loud. I sigh and murmur, “I needed a break.”

“Okay… I get that. You work a ton. But quitting is huge. How are you going to pay rent?”

“Well, actually, I’m not.” I lick my dry lips. “My lease ends in August.”

She lets that sink in for a few seconds. “So… you’re not renewing your lease?”

“No.”

“You’re moving away and didn’t even tell me?” The hurt in her voice pains me.

“Not forever. Just for the summer.” Honestly, I haven’t thought that far ahead. I just knew it felt like divine intervention when I realized my lease was ending so soon after I quit my high-paying job.

I’d packed a suitcase of clothes and personal items to last me a couple of weeks and hopped in my car this morning to go to the one person I knew would open the door for me without question: Dad. I have a month to figure out what to do with my furniture and other personal items.

“But where will you live?”

“With my dad.”

“In Dallas.” Megan connects the dots. “I see.”

“I just needed a break,” I repeat. I take the next right which leads me to the massive training facility where I’m meeting my dad to pick up a key to his condo. He hadn’t balked when I told him I’d be staying with him for a little while. If anything, he sounded excited.

“From work or your life?”

I scoff. “What life?” Megan knows better than anyone that work is my life.

Was.

Work was my life.

“Listen, Valerie,” my best friend’s voice loses its shocked quality and fills with concern. “If this is what you need to do, I support you one hundred percent. I just want to make sure you’re okay. It’s not like you to make rash decisions like this.”

Except this decision wasn’t rash.

Not really.

It’s been growing in my mind ever since a tall, handsome stranger planted it there three months ago. But Megan doesn’t know what happened between me and CJ, and I plan to keep it that way.

“Talk to me, Valerie,” my best friend pleads. “Just… tell me you’re going to be okay.”

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