Page 64

The thought should have been comforting, but instead, it left me feeling hollow. Was this really what my life had come to? Running from anyone who cared enough to worry about me? Seeking out anonymity and disconnection as if they were virtues rather than warnings?

I pushed the thought away as I pulled into Derek's driveway. It was too heavy, too real, too much like the kind of self-reflection I'd been so carefully avoiding these past weeks. Better to focus on the practical aspects—the commute, the hours, the pay. Better to think about what I'd wear on my first day if I got the job, rather than why I wanted it in the first place.

Derek was out, as usual. Our paths rarely crossed these days, which suited me fine. He'd leave notes on the fridge about bills or maintenance issues, and I'd respond in kind, but we'd managed to coexist for weeks now with minimal actualinteraction. It was the perfect roommate situation for someone who wanted to be left alone.

I changed out of my interview clothes and into sweatpants and a t-shirt, then flopped onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed with a text from Alex:

How'd the interview go?

I found myself smiling despite everything. At least there was one person in my life who didn't make me feel like I was failing at being human.

Fine

Should hear by next week.

His response was immediate:

Fingers crossed! Drinks Friday to celebrate?

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. More drinks. More nights blurring into mornings. More temporary escapes that solved nothing. But what was the alternative? Staying home alone with my thoughts? That seemed far worse.

Definitely, Can't wait.

And I meant it, in a way. I couldn't wait for Friday, for the noise and the crowd and the blessed numbness that came with enough alcohol. I couldn't wait to forget, just for a few hours, that I was a person who had run away from the only man who had ever really seen me, who was avoiding her best friend because he cared too much, who was seeking out a job specifically because no one there would know or care about her.

I couldn't wait to forget that I was me.

The thought should have been alarming, a red flag waving frantically in my mind. But instead, it settled over me with a strange sort of resignation. This was my life now. This was who I was. And maybe that was okay. Maybe not everyone got a happy ending. Maybe some of us were just meant to exist in the spaces between, never quite finding our place, never quite belonging anywhere or to anyone.

The thought was both terrifying and oddly comforting. If I expected nothing, I couldn't be disappointed. If I connected with no one, I couldn't be hurt. If I never tried to be better, I couldn't fail.

It was a philosophy of sorts, a way of navigating the world that required minimal effort and promised minimal pain. And right now, minimal seemed like the best I could hope for. Minimal pain, minimal joy, minimal everything. Just enough to keep going, one day at a time, without having to face the mess I'd made of my life or the person I'd become.

Tomorrow would be another day of going through the motions, of pretending to be a person who had goals and dreams and a future worth working toward. And I would do it, because what other choice did I have?

None. There were no other choices, no other paths. Just this one, stretching out before me like a long, empty road with no end in sight.

Chapter 25

Geri

The day Friday rolled around, I had gotten the call I was waiting for. I had gotten the job, and it started on Monday. Now I just had to tell my boss I was leaving. Not something I looked forward to, but finally being able to be alone was hopeful.

My phone had rung just after 10 that morning. I'd been lounging in bed, scrolling mindlessly through social media, when an unknown number flashed across my screen. My heart had jumped into my throat as I answered, trying to sound professional despite still being in my pyjamas.

"Hello, is this Geraldine?" The crisp, efficient voice of the HR manager from my interview.

"Yes, this is she," I'd replied, sitting up straighter as if she could see me.

"I'm pleased to inform you that we'd like to offer you the position. We were impressed with your experience and think you'd be a great fit for our team."

A strange mix of emotions had washed over me—relief, satisfaction, and something that might have been dread if I'd allowed myself to examine it too closely. But I didn't. Instead, I'd accepted the offer with practiced enthusiasm, agreed to thestarting date of Monday two weeks from now, and hung up with a promise to come in early to complete paperwork.

I had to hand in my resignation to my boss, who was mad I was leaving. He didn't want to find someone to replace me, but he said he thought it was coming. He had thought it was due to my commute and didn't fight me on that. I mean, he could think what he wanted.

I'd walked into his office during the mid-afternoon lull, my resignation letter clutched in sweaty fingers. He'd looked up from his computer, his expression shifting from distraction to wariness as he registered my unusual seriousness.

"Got a minute?" I'd asked, hovering in the doorway.