Page 38 of Inflame

“I’m struggling with finding a job that is satisfying,” I say. “It’s been weighing on my mind.” It’s not false news. But it also isn’t what is currently nagging me either. My lack of a real job is just a small piece of my life struggles puzzle titled “Unhappiness.”

Angie nods and pulls her knees up to her chest. “I have gone from working toward my journalism goal with all my might, to basically doing nothing.” She turns back and gives Graham a small wave. “Hedoesn’t see it that way, but I do. I feel like my talents are being wasted.”

“I feel the exact same way. And I don’t know how to stop dwelling on the what-ifs. I used to be a goal setter.” Now my main goal is just surviving. It’s a lousy feeling comparing your past accomplishments to your current status.

“I am right with you, Claire. It’s not like Graham cares if I’m working or not. Actually, I think he would prefer me doing nothing, but I need something for myself. I can’t lose myself entirely in a marriage. I have to do something for me.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” We are in the same boat. Well, kind of. My side has sprung a financial leak, and I’m about to drown in debt if I don’t figure something out fast. I fear that if Ethan knew how much I owe, he would leave me. He has alluded to not wanting another dependent, and I would definitely put a dent in his bank account and possibly his credit score. Maybe I’m just too much of a liability. Is the cost of having me even worth it to him?

Angie takes a long chug from her bottled water, reminding me to do the same. She turns her body sideways to look at me. “If making money was not a worry, what would you really want to do right now?”

“It’s an unrealistic question I ask myself often.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be unrealistic,” she proposes.

I shrug. I’m in a slump, and it started way before the letter came in the mail with my student loan debt spelled out for me in black and white. “I have a passion for helping people with their weight loss and nutritional goals. I want to inspire others to be their best selves and live their best lives, even if I feel like I’m not living mine right now. Working at the gym only fulfills so much of my needs. Speaking of the gym, my entire workout group wants custom T-shirts like the ones you make me.”

Her face lights up. “You wear them to class?”

“And to the grocery store or the park or when I’m just lounging around the apartment.”

“Really?”

“Yes, of course. You make the best clothes, and I love the sayings you add to jazz them up and make them stand out. You should open one of those online boutiques.”

“Would you help me if I wanted to start a thing?”

“Depends what the thing is,” I say slowly.

“I have a very vague vision of having a network specifically made for women that includes health coaching, workout videos, clothing for all body types, and even inspirational jewelry. I love to sew and create. I also love to write. I’ve been utilizing my blog to talk about my own struggles, and I have been flooded with comments about how I have inspired others to seek professional help or to make changes in their life. I thought I could build off of that platform. It’s a pipe dream. But I think it could be both therapeutic and lucrative.”

“I think it’s an amazing dream. And I think I would love to be a part of the journey.”

“I was hoping you would be on board. Because I need a partner and you offer so much expertise in the areas in which I am lacking guidance. And who better to start an empowering women’s group than us?”

“Exactly,” I agree. I can’t stop smiling or thinking about all the possibilities. I have so many ideas rushing through my head that I wish I had a portable dream board, a glue stick, and some magazines to trash to get everything I am dreaming up into picture form.

“What are you ladies talking about?” Graham asks, kneeling down behind Angie and massaging her shoulders.

“I was asking Claire for her opinion on a business idea I’ve been tossing around in my head,” she answers. “We are both unhappy either not working or doing the mundane routines, so I’m trying to see about starting an empowering women’s team and utilizing our talents.”

Graham kisses her neck and then smiles over at me. “Whatever you two want to do, I fully support it. I know you do not make decisions on a whim, sweetheart, and thoroughly think things through. If you need office space or starting capital, I can be a behind-the-scenes investor. Just let me know.”

I should be thrilled over his offer, elated even. But it just reminds me—yet again—that Ethan doesn’t support my ideas like Graham supports Angie’s. Maybe Ethan will jump on board when he sees the business model or maybe it will take turning a profit. One thing I know for certain is that if I tell Ethan the idea of working with Angie without a thoroughly thought-out plan, he’ll just laugh in my face at the absurdity of it. He calls me a dreamer. Is being one such a bad thing? To him, yes. He reminds me that I lack logic and think with my heart.

“Thank you, Graham,” Angie says, leaning her head back to capture his lips.

“Yes, thank you.”

“I have space at Hoffman Headquarters that is not being utilized and would love for you ladies to come take a look. I’ve been trying to get Angie to be my personal assistant for a while,” he says with a chuckle. “This is almost as good.” He winks an eye, making hers narrow.

“We both know that you would get no work done if I was fluttering around making you coffee and fetching papers off a printer,” she teases. “Plus, I suck at taking orders from you.”

Graham nods. “This is true.” He whispers something in her ear, making her blush. “When we get back to Portland, I’ll show you the floors I have open for leasing that have yet to be claimed.”

I look over at Nic who appears to have swallowed a scorpion. Not sure why he cares about me and Angie working together, but from the scowl on his face, he definitely has a strong opinion about it.

Too bad his opinion is irrelevant, like basically ninety percent of the things that fly out of his mouth.

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