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“You can cut us off or whatever you think you’re doing here, but we built you,” my father sneered. “Nothing will change that.”
I scoffed. “No, I built myself. With the help of the family I’vechosen. A family that’s been there for me and supported me all along. And I’m going to follow in their footsteps and try to be happy for a change. So, now I’m going to do something I should have done a long time ago and put boundaries in place.” I got to my feet. “Today I’m letting go of my anger, and I’m letting go of you. As far as we’re concerned, this is goodbye.”
I turned and left, feeling lighter than I had in years.
28
NATASHA
“Coming!” I called, hearing the knock on my door as I finished up in the bathroom. After an interview this morning at Cool Gourmet, a nearby café looking for temporary staff going into the holiday season, I’d left smelling of coffee and pastries. It had only depressed me, so I’d immediately jumped in the shower upon returning home. I may have fairly pathetic prospects right now, but I didn’t have to smell like burnt grounds.
The knock sounded again. “Be right there,” I called, hurrying down the hall, a towel still wrapped around my hair. I knew it wasn’t Stacy knocking because she usually texted before coming down. But there was also a less unhinged quality to the knocking and a distinct lack of her trademarkedNatashaaaaaa!I swung the door open to find a bike messenger clad in a sleek, neon-orange windbreaker and cycling goggles standing on my stoop. “Hi,” I said.
He glanced down at the package in his gloved hands then back at me. “Are you Natasha Dryer?”
“Yes.”
“Then this is for you.” He handed over a thick brown envelope.
“Thanks. Careful on the stairs,” I said. “They’re slick.” We’d had a light dusting of snow this morning which had promptly turned to an icy rain just in time for me to make the trek to my interview. Sometimes I hated November. The weather just needed to commit one way or the other.
“Thanks,” he called, jogging off to grab his bike. “Have a good one!”
“You too.” I returned to the warmth of my apartment, closing the door behind me, wondering what was in the envelope. It was still way too early for Christmas cards, not that I ever had many turn up. And despite all the late-night scrolling I’d been doing to distract myself from the Trent-shaped hole in my life, I didn’t remember indulging in any retail therapy recently. I was trying to be frugal where I could, knowing that I’d have to stretch my savings until the job situation sorted itself out.
I slid my finger into the corner of the envelope, tearing it open. A small pad of bubble wrap fell out. Inside was a shiny silver key and a note with an address written on it. “What the hell?” I whispered under my breath. What kind of creepy stalker move was this?
I picked up my phone, calling Stacy. “Hey,” she answered. “I was just about to call you. I might have a lead on a really exciting costuming opportunity, and I’m trying not to freak out too much.”
“That’s awesome, Stace. With who?”
“I can’t say who because I just signed an NDA, not that I don’t trust you, but mostly because I don’t want to jinx it!Ahhh!It’s Broadway, baby! Okay, breathe. I’m fine. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.”
“One, that’s so cool. I knew it was only a matter of time before Broadway came knocking. And two…I’m actually not altogether sure I am fine.”
“Wait…what’s wrong?”
“Have you left for work yet?”
“No. I was on my way out the door, though.”
“Can you come down here for two seconds?”
“Yes. But why do you sound so unnerved?”
“Cause something weird just happened.”
“Good weird or bad weird?”
I sucked in a long breath, staring at the key. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
“Oooooo!Okay,” she said. “I’m definitely on my way then. Be right there.”
Ten minutes later, Stacy and I stood around the kitchen table, staring down at the key and the note, our heads practically pressed together as we examined them.
“I guess it could be some sort of prank,” I said.
Stacy hemmed. “By who?”