Page 4 of Unconventionally, Elle

Now

I rolled over in my king-size bed, opened my eyes, and realized I wasn't in New Orleans anymore. A bird was standing on my porch staring at me, and the waves were thrashing against the shore. My body was completely calm, and for the first time in ages, I felt refreshed.

Puerto Vallarta.

While vacation had technically started, I still tried to work as much as I could to stay ahead.

My cell service was extremely unreliable, and the Wi-Fi was painstakingly slow.

I was having minor panic attacks every five minutes when my emails failed to load.

I kept telling myself it was only one week.

Just one week away from the office; it wasn't that big of a deal.

I trusted Anna, and she was more than capable of handling things for me.

Mr. Landry was less than pleased about my spontaneous vacation.

He was aware that I hadn't taken a vacation in the past decade, even after my grandmother's death.

During our conversation about this vacation, he'd asked me one last time if I was sure about leaving the office for a week.

When I said yes, when I told him the Calloway account was all but ours and Anna would handle any last-minute changes, he shook his head and looked at me like I'd given him the wrong answer.

I felt a shift in the room, like something was wrong, but I couldn't quite place it. He hadn't mentioned the vacation again.

I rolled onto my back and shut my eyes. While I was enjoying the smell of the salty air, I randomly heard someone screaming.

"Yaaas! Girls' Trip 2022! Get up, bitch, no one is on the beach yet, and I saved us some spots!"

Sarah was standing on my porch with her hip out, dressed in her neon-pink mom-kini with a mimosa and flamingo sunglasses. It was six a.m., and the sun was just coming up from behind some wispy clouds to say good morning.

I stared at her with crust still in the corners of my eyes and what felt like a knife lodged in my temple.

"A mimosa already, Sarah? Can't we start with a coffee?" I asked, rubbing my eyes and pulling the covers back over my head.

I couldn't believe Sarah had a mimosa in her hand this early and had used bitch in a sentence. Mom Sarah would never drink so early or in front of her kids. College Sarah believed it was never too early for a mimosa.

"Yes, a mimosa." She emphasized the ending a little too much, and I could tell it probably wasn't her first. "Do you realize I haven't been able to do this in years?

Like, actual years! Get up, grouch, we have the whole day in front of us.

" She walked over to my bed, threw off my blankets, and tossed a pillow at my head.

I curled into the fetal position, cozy in my brand-new satin pajamas, and let the pillow hit my side.

"Just a few more minutes," I whined.

She didn't give in. "Get up! C'mon, Rach is already changing to meet us." Sarah turned toward my door, flipped the light on, and stumbled ever so slightly out of my room.

"I guess kids train you to wake up before civilization!

" I yelled back at her through the glass as she walked onto the porch and slid the door closed behind her.

I grabbed for my blankets again, but she'd thrown them on the floor--too smart.

At this point, I was questioning why the heck I'd let them convince me we should all have adjoining rooms.

I admitted defeat and rolled lazily out of bed. A breeze drifted through my open window and brushed against my face like a soft kiss. The saltiness in the air rested on my tongue, and I swore I could taste vacation.

Rachel joined us on the beach within thirty minutes of Sarah's morning show. We spread our towels out side by side, just like we used to in college for spring break: Rachel, me, and Sarah. I missed those days every day.

Rachel and I had always been closest. She was my confidant, my first best friend away from New York.

We both wanted to grow up to be journalists and rule the literary world, then life happened.

Now she was a PR executive and I was a successful businesswoman, or so it would seem.

I kept questioning the definition of success ever since Tina, my therapist, had asked me about it.

I finally figured that after days of dwelling on it, I had absolutely no idea, and I needed to ask the girls what they thought.

Success isn't making the money; it's making the man while he makes the money , Grandpa told me over the phone one time shortly before he passed.

I didn't realize at the time that it would be one of the few conversations we had left, and I still wasn't quite sure what he'd meant by that.

Of course success was money, it had to be. Right?

It's weird how life works out; you believe in your audacious dreams, and then you end up ignoring them completely because you believe someone you love and admire knows better.

I remember telling my grandparents I wanted to be a writer.

I could see the sparkle in my grandmother's eyes, but just as quickly as it came, it disappeared.

Not many knew that becoming a writer was her abandoned dream.

My grandparents were proud of me for getting dual degrees, including one in journalism, but at the end of the day, they'd told me to earn a secure job that paid well.

Making a lot of money was success in their eyes, especially as the silent generation.

More money meant more stability and less hardship.

Being a writer was too risky, so I pursued a job with my business degree after graduation.

I didn't want to disappoint my grandparents, but sometimes I wondered if I'd disappointed my grandmother regardless.

And myself. My grandfather would remind me whenever he talked to me: Go corporate, Elle.

You need a nine-to-five career, Elle. Writers are poor, Elle.

Be successful, Elle. You need to be successful.

No pressure at all. Rachel was told the same thing by her family, but public relations suited her.

She really enjoyed the grind and the hustle.

Thirty minutes into tanning on the beach, I could feel sweat dripping down my chest and tried to convince myself to put away my phone and take a dip in the ocean for a second.

Rachel flipped onto her back and looked over at me.

I was still on my phone refreshing my email for the millionth time, looking for anything from Anna.

You know, just in case she needed my help.

But there was nothing. Anna really was qualified and hardworking enough to handle things while I was gone, but letting go was hard.

"Elle, what are you doing? We're on vacation, remember? If I can put it away for a few hours, I know you can, right?" She pulled her sunglasses down to stare at me.

"I know, I know. It's just this big account I've been trying to nail down for months. It comes up in July, and we are in the heart of getting it all together right now. But you're right, okay. I'm putting it down." I turned it off--seriously, all the way off--and showed her the proof.

She nodded in approval and rested back on her beach towel with her long tan arms by her side. Her black hair was pulled up into a high bun and her face was lathered in SPF 50. I readjusted my sunglasses and tapped Rach on the shoulder.

"Hey, can we share? I don't want to turn my phone back on." I smiled sheepishly, pointing to her headphones. "And I forgot to pack my Bluetooth speaker for us."

She smiled back and passed over her left headphone. Sarah was sleeping on her stomach on my other side, and it was impossible for me not to giggle every time she snored.

We sat side by side, just like the old days at the pool in college. Rachel's playlists were always the best, and while the sun warmed my body and the sand pressed between my toes, I let my eyes rest.

I had my eyes closed, but I couldn't keep my mind from racing.

Work was work; life was life. I had everything I thought I wanted, but I was miserable.

I knew I was missing something. Was I where I wanted to be at this point in my life?

I really thought so, but I couldn't help but notice this trapped, anxious feeling when I thought about who I was meant to be. Who the hell am I?

I opened my eyes and pulled the headphone out of my ear. The music stopped and I looked over at Rachel. She looked back, confused.

"Rach, what does it mean to be successful? Have you ever really thought about it?" I asked while shuffling my feet in the sand. The sun felt magical and comforting. Sarah was still sleeping, and I'd have to wake her up soon so she didn't burn to a crisp.

"Girl, if I knew, I'd tell you." She sat up and took a sip of her margarita. "I think it's different for everyone, and it's a personal journey to see what it is for you. But I think if you're living your life how you want to, isn't that successful? I mean, money helps, though."

"Yeah, I guess." I took a deep breath and thought about what she'd said. I didn't feel like I was living my life how I wanted to, but I didn't know how to do that either.

"I also don't think it's one thing in particular, right?" she said. "Like, just because you have money doesn't always mean you're happy. And I heard once, if you don't have your health, do you really have anything at all?" She readjusted her bun and lay back down on her towel.

"Do you think you've found success?" I asked.

She was quiet for a moment, and I could see her thinking about it.

"I think so," she finally said. "I really enjoy my job, the hustle, and of course, I'm comfortable with my income and my relationship with Josh.

In fact, I'm hoping he'll propose soon." She smiled and wiggled her eyebrows.

I chuckled and she continued. "But to answer your question, yeah, I do think I've found it. What about you?"

"Not really." My answer fell out of my mouth, and I felt startled by my lack of filter. Rachel went silent, and I felt embarrassed, so I backtracked. "I mean, I don't know. Maybe."

She nodded and gave me a small smile. Fuck, I didn't want pity--that was her pity look. "I know I'm not supposed to feel this way," I said after she stayed silent.

Her headphone was in her hand, and she sat up and crossed her legs to face me.

"Elle, you can feel however you want to feel. It's not crazy. If you're not happy, what are you thinking about doing?"

I shrugged and closed my eyes. "I don't know." It was barely over a whisper.

I felt Rachel's hand grab mine and squeeze. "It'll work out, Elle. You never give up. Remember, we're dreamers and we don't give up." She let go and I could hear her lying back down on the towel.

I opened my eyes. She had the headphone back in her ear. I put the other one back in mine and flipped onto my stomach like Sarah. Before lying down, I nudged Sarah to get her to flip over. "Sarah, you're burning."

Her eyes popped open wide. "Oh shit!" She shot up to a seated position, grabbed the SPF 50, and started rubbing it all over herself.

"Wait, wait, I'll do your back," I said as she struggled to reach.

I sat back up, took the sunscreen, and lathered it across her back.

Sarah was a stay-at-home mom. I knew there were times when her kids drove her crazy, but she'd always wanted to be a mom.

Even with her art degree, she'd known what her endgame would be.

She adored children and James. As I rubbed in her sunscreen, I let my mind wander again to success. To happiness. To being content.

"You know, I haven't been away from the girls since they were born." Sarah was completely still and staring out at the ocean.

"Seriously?" I responded an octave higher than I meant to. "Sarah, that's years! Like, what, five?"

"Yeah, six. I can't believe it. I've been so busy momming, and James travels so often for work that I can never get away." She sighed and shrugged.

I poked Rachel and motioned for her to take her music out and listen. She sat up slowly, confused at first, then realized Sarah was talking.

Without moving her head, Sarah continued. "Thanks, Rach, for planning this trip. I didn't realize how badly I needed to get away and remember that I am my own person. I'm not just a mom."

Rach reached around me and grasped Sarah's forearm. "Of course, Sarah. I think we all needed it, huh?" She lifted her eyebrows and looked to me.

I moved to sit next to Sarah and reached for her hand.

Then I grabbed Rach's hand and intertwined our fingers, sunscreen and all.

"Same. I didn't realize how much I needed this, how much I needed both of you.

" I squeezed their hands again. "I already feel lighter.

I guess the sun and guac will do that to you. "

"Don't forget the mimosas!" Sarah laughed.

"Or the margs, thank you very much." Rach winked.

"I don't know what I'm doing." I let go of their hands, leaned back, and dug my fingers into the loose warm sand.

"I don't know what I want. I feel so overwhelmed and confused.

But I have absolutely no reason to feel the way I do.

I've got everything I could ever want or need, and yet I feel so incredibly alone. " A tear rolled down my cheek.

"I feel alone too sometimes," Sarah said. "Being alone with two kids and a dog can be isolating. I only get to talk to other moms or strangers in the grocery store. Even then, they aren't that exciting. I've become everything to everyone else, and me--Sarah--I'm just along for the ride."

"You're never alone, Elle." Rach's voice was low and soothing. "And neither are you, Sarah. You have me and my excellent problem-solving skills. I've been told I'm somewhat of a nurturer too, but I have cats, so I'm not sure how accurate that is."

I let that one tear fall and kept the rest back. It was too beautiful a day to cry. This trip was too beautiful. My friends were too beautiful.

I'm going to be fine , I told myself. Maybe all I needed was a week away from work. Some perspective. And maybe a shot of tequila.