Page 7 of In a Pinch

My phone rings, dragging me from my sleep. Not having bothered setting an alarm last night leaves me wondering, what freaking time is it? And why does it feel so early? My hand fumbles around the sheets up to the bedside table, and I peek open my eyes so I can see who is calling.

“Why the fuck is Isla calling me at 7:45 a.m.?” I can’t remember the last time I slept in this late, but after the past week’s shit show, I guess my body needed some rest. My mind then hops to immediately thinking something is wrong, because why else would she be calling this early?

“Isla, what’s wrong?”

“Why would anything be wrong?”

“Dude, its Saturday and not even 8 a.m. yet. I figured you were dying. If you were closer, you would be in danger of that as I was having the REM cycle of my life.”

“Oh, shit. I always forget about the stupid time change. I'm sorry. Do you want me to call back later?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m up. Hopefully you make it worth the lack of sleep.” I scooch up to a sitting position and try to get my wits about me.

“Um, well, I have an idea. You might think it’s crazy, but hear me out.”

“Well, now you have my attention.” An idea from Isla could be literally anything. Stifling a yawn, I listen to her grand idea.

“You know how Cal’s brother-in-law has a law office? Well, they are adding on a new lawyer at their firm and need another legal assistant who is able to handle a little more, as they are kind of high profile. So, all emails will be filtered through the legal assistant. He is the best family attorney in the state. I talked to Tyler about it, and he said he would hire you on the spot because it will take someone with a backbone to not take shit from this lawyer. Says he's a nice guy, but a little intense.”

My brain is trying to keep up with what she is saying. “Dude, it is way too early in the morning to be making this big of a life decision. I can’t just move across the country in a week’s notice.”

“You don’t have to decide right now, but the offer is out there. Also, I did it in two weeks, and I had, like, triple the amount of stuff that you do.”

“When would he need to know by?” I drag my hand across my face, trying to decide whether this is a weird dream or if my best friend is seriously propositioning me to move. Thousands of miles away. To a state I’ve only been to twice, soon to be three times.

“You should probably have your mind made up as soon as possible. He wanted to post the job online Monday, but they could probably wait ‘til the end of the week.

“This is feeling an awful lot like déjà vu, when you decided to pack up and move across the country. Except, I don't have the love of my life waiting for me.”

“Um, excuse me. I am absolutely the love of your life, and if you think differently, you are wrong.”

I chuckle because she is absolutely right. I don't know how to tell Cal that he will always be her number two, because we are forever each other’s number ones. It’s just the rule of being best bitches. The thought of no longer being long distance besties does add a little sparkle to this proposition.

“And where am I supposed to live? On a park bench? There is no way I can find my own apartment that fast.”

“You can just stay with me until you decide if this is what you want. No hardcore attachments, but a good, ole fashioned reset. Some new scenery might do you good.” She has a point there. And being close to her again sounds great.

“Okay, I will think about it and call you back later. My brain is not awake enough to process all this information. Can you get me Tyler’s information so I can ask for some numbers? And I will see if it’s worth the move.”

We end the call, and I stare up at my ceiling. What the fuck is going on with my life right now?

I’m nowhere near where I thought I’d be. I, for sure, thought I’d be further in my career. This is what I get for picking a super particular niche. I should have just gone to law school instead of wanting to be a chaos coordinator. Who even wants that? Well, people who like being aggressively helpful and organizing chaos. People like me, I suppose. People who like law, but don’t want to practice it, and enjoy the justice it brings. Why couldn’t I have just been born normal?

I sigh, because that would have been boring.

Realizing I will not be getting any more sleep or relaxation, I throw the blankets off me and immediately feel the chill of the hardwood floors. My feet find my slippers and I shove them in. I make my way to the kitchen. My roomie did not make it homeonce again. I’m honestly not even sure why she lives here at this point.

I scrounge through the kitchen cabinets, looking for something. Do I know what? No. But I’ll know it when I see it. I open and close every cabinet door at least seven times before I decide to make some homemade cinnamon rolls. I love baking; something about the meticulous process soothes the crazy in my brain.

I drag out my mixer from the closet because, while I like the warm and cozy feeling homemade dough gives me, manually kneading it for fifteen minutes is not on my to-do list today. Shuffling around the kitchen, I gather all the ingredients, from mixing bowls to measuring cups.

I lose myself in the process, feeling the stress slowly dissolve as the dough comes together. After mixing the last of everything together, I let it knead itself while I bust out my laptop in hopes that even though it's Saturday, someone will have emailed me back, and at the very least, offered an interview of sorts.

Disappointment floods me as my inbox sits empty. It’s been a week since I filled out all these applications. I’ve even branched out from law offices and have applied to standard management positions, but have not had a single interaction. My check-in emails haven’t been responded to either. Are these places even really hiring?

I wish I had Mindi’s number to call and see if anyone has tried to call. I try to bring myself to regret what I said and did when I was let go, but honestly, they deserved it. They genuinely thought they were winning with good ole Maggie. Joke’s on them. Seriously, I wish I was a fly on the wall so I could see their faces every time Maggie comes in late and drops the ball.

Should I be wishing them well? Probably. It might do me some good to put some good karma in the world, but I’m a bit of a petty bitch, and they did me dirty. Dumbasses.

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