Page 2 of On the Line

“He somehow found out I switched majors.” I hiccup. “Told me if I didn’t switch back to economics before next fall, he’d cut me off.”

“What?” Connie says surprised, rubbing her eyes. “How the hell did he find out?”

“I don’t know,” I whine, letting the last word trail into another small sob. “But you know him, he has eyes everywhere.” I fall back into my pillows wanting to die. “I should have known I couldn’t keep it a secret for long.”

Connie falls silent, seemingly mulling everything over. After a few seconds, she asks gently, “So what are you going to do?”

Rolling over, I prop my phone on the nightstand and hug the pillow under me before answering. “I told him I was moving out …” I say a little meekly. “Then stormed in here and called you.”

She lets out a dry laugh. “So you’re fucked.”

My bottom lip starts to tremble, the tears once again flowing freely.

“What am I going to do?” I say softly.

“Well, are youactuallymoving out?” she asks as delicately as possible.

I chew on my words before answering.

I’ve never been on my own before.

The thought nearly knocks the breath out of me. It scares me. But if I let my mind grow quiet, behind all thetears and the comforting melodramatics, I can almost hear a small voice inside chanting:Doit, do it, do it.

“I think so …” I whisper, my voice still shaky.

I watch Connie stand up through the screen, suddenly in planning mode.

“Okay, great, so here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to call my cousin Steve, my mom told me he was looking for a roommate last week. While I do that, you’re going to start packing okay? TheessentialsJamie, you hear me? This isn’t the time to be sentimental.”

“But—”

“The essentials, Jamie. I swear to god.”

“Fine. Okay. I heard you,” I say with a huff.

“Great. Love you,” she says. “Everything is going to be fine, trust me.”

I nod distractedly, but she’s already hung up.

For a while, I can’t move. The screen on my phone has since turned black while I stare at my puffy-eyed reflection, too busy having a silent existential crisis to lift myself off of the bed. Everything in me wants to just continue to wallow and wither into nothing.

Eventually, after questioning everything ten times over, I find the courage to move and pull my Louis Vuitton suitcases out from my walk-in closet. Putting on some music, I start packing, the essentials being mostly clothes and my art supplies.

I’m not surprised that my father never comes knocking to tell me to stay.

The little voice inside tells me I should have left years ago.

“If you’re goingto spend the entire time complaining, then you can just leave, you know,” I say through gritted teeth. “I can manage the rest myself.”

I’m halfway up the third flight of stairs, annoyed, tired, and out of breath. Zachary is trailing behind me, carelessly dragging one of my suitcases up the creaky steps.

His brown eyes narrow. “Is this neighborhood even safe, Jamie? Did you doanyresearch before agreeing to this half-baked plan?” Zachary grunts out, his Burberry winter coat open and falling off one shoulder, blonde strands sticking to his sweaty forehead.

Connie was right, her cousin Steve did need a roommate. I jumped on the opportunity immediately. I threw everything in my Audi and left within the hour, not even bothering to tell my father that I was leaving.

All I know about my new roommate is that he’s Connie’s cousin, twenty-six, and works in sales.

That was good enough for me.

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