Today's Reading
"I'm gonna miss you," Patience whined. "Who will fix my life when you're hours away?"
"Just pick up your phone and call me. Phones still function that way, you know. It's always in your hand anyway," I said, rubbing my chest to loosen the lump of guilt that formed there.
"It won't be the same without you here," Patience groaned, her abandonment issues on full display.
Ma had adopted me in time to put me in kindergarten. Patience joined our family a few years later, but her struggle with abandonment never waned. Once she'd learned that I could be trusted, she clung to me. It felt good to go from having no siblings to being the big sister.
"How sweet," Amy teased, pushing her lips into an exaggerated pout. "She's going to miss her big sister."
"Whatever." Dismissing Amy, Patience turned to me. "Why the rush, Holly?" she asked, using my nickname.
I took a breath, preparing to explain my position once again. Patience wouldn't understand that I needed to separate myself from her, Ma, and everything I'd ever known to figure out who I really was, or that after my cancer scare, every question about my medical history was a glaring example of how much I didn't know about myself.
There were so many ways to answer Patience's question. "I have to get settled before starting my new job in September." I kept it simple.
"Are you coming home for your birthday?" Patience asked.
"No," I said, forcing what I hoped was a warm smile.
"No!" Patience jerked her head back. Appalled, she asked, "We can't even celebrate your thirtieth birthday with you? Dang, Holland!" Even in the low light of the restaurant, I could see the light in her eyes dim.
"Of course you can." I reached for Patience's hand. "Come to Charleston anytime you want," I said matter-of-factly, in contrast to Patience's dramatic response. "It will be fun."
Turning the big three-oh was a big deal. My next decade needed to look drastically different from my last.
On my last birthday, I vowed I wouldn't turn thirty in the same town. I didn't take myself seriously until the health scare. Then I made plans to leave Florence, landing a job and an apartment in Charleston within months.
I didn't hate Florence. Fond memories bonded the city to my heart. But none of the things on my life's checklist had happened for me. Upward mobility? No. A husband? No. Possibly a kid or two? No again. There wasn't anything holding me back.
Tony the waiter arrived with our cocktails and set them down in front of us before taking our orders.
Amy raised her glass. "Welp! Here's to a new start."
"To living the life you want... I guess," Patience muttered then grinned sheepishly. "At least you got a job first." Everyone laughed. Patience would have left without one.
I raised my glass to meet theirs. "And to doing it all, scared as hell," I added.
The glasses clinking was the best accompaniment to our laughter.
"What about Sean?" Patience asked, setting her glass back down on the table. "How did he take the news of you moving?"
I took a long sip, then carefully set my cocktail on the table. Suddenly, it wasn't strong enough. I didn't want to discuss Sean.
"It's over."
"Good!" Amy said, before sipping her chocolate martini. "Find a man that will make you a priority."
"Wow." That stung a little.
"Did I lie?" Amy asked matter-of-factly.
She didn't. Admittedly, I allowed Sean's behavior, and it didn't feel good at all to realize that. Sean was the most unfulfilling situationship ever. Following a fun start, whatever we had between us withered after a few months but didn't completely die. It lingered with late-night visits and conversations that vehemently avoided substance.
I had hoped for more. What girl didn't? The freedom of not being pressured worked for Sean and avoiding the direct sting of rejection worked for me, so instead of pinning him down, I acted as if I didn't care when he called less frequently and eventually not at all. Whoever I dated next would have to make me a priority.
Reaching in my bag, I panicked when I didn't feel my phone.
"Amy! Do you see my cell?" I asked, still rifling through my purse.
...
