Page 7 of Unconventionally, Elle

Now

Three days had gone by since the email that changed everything.

Thank the universe I'd received it on the last day of vacation, because vacation ended the second I opened the message.

From that point on, everything felt like it was over.

Everything I'd worked so hard to achieve, everything I thought I wanted was gone. I had failed.

My years-long work addiction meant I had accumulated quite the gold mine of vacation hours, so I decided to cash some more in and postpone my return to work.

I was still trying to process what had happened, what had been taken, and how I was supposed to move forward from here.

For the past few days, I'd watched the ebb and flow of people on Bourbon Street, considered listening to a true crime podcast, and obsessively replayed all my life's decisions that led to this point on my couch, watching reruns of The Office .

No matter how I looked at it, I had done everything right.

I'd followed the formula that society and my grandparents had given me to become successful: exceptional grades, a college education, a big corporate job, and plenty of money.

Where was my error? In this whole process, had I wronged somebody?

God or gods? The universe? I guess, who's to say.

I was technically using my vacation hours to watch Michael Scott terrorize his Scranton branch, but also, I was preparing myself to see my boss, Mr. Landry, and my forever enemy, Chris Johnson.

This wasn't a vacation by any stretch of the imagination; it was more like a torturous amount of time between the sun rising and setting that was filled with self-loathing, crying, a stuffy nose, and unadulterated rage taken out on a box of Oreos.

I tried to relax and prop my feet up on the wall by my kitchen.

That's what yoga says you're supposed to do to calm down, right?

Elevate your legs on a wall or something?

I sat like that for a few minutes and tried to clear my head.

The email kept sneaking into my thoughts, causing my head to throb.

Every time I thought about the email, I'd get a migraine and a queasy stomach.

The worst part was the betrayal and disrespect.

I knew I was worth more than this. I didn't deserve to be treated like I could be replaced so easily or dismissed.

That was what made me so upset--I was just another cog in the wheel, when this whole time I thought I was more.

It only took one email and one man's decision to change everything. I was never in control.

Not for the first time since everything went sideways, I reached for my phone to call Grandma Di.

I yearned for her comfort, for her reassurance and calm voice.

As usual, I got as far as going to my favorites, tapping the home phone, and listening until the second ring before I remembered.

I couldn't call her. She was gone. Gone, just like the life I had so meticulously planned out.

I let my arm fall to the side of my body, my old shattered cell phone still clutched in my hand because I didn't want to buy a new one yet.

Slowly, I rolled myself up and let my back rest against the wall with my knees curled to my chest. The floor was unforgiving, and goose bumps covered my arms and legs, but I didn't try to move.

I let the grief and the rage wash over me.

I don't know how long I cried, but my lungs ached from screaming, and my face was swollen with tear tracks staining my cheeks.

I managed to shuffle to my bathroom and glance at myself in the mirror above my vanity.

My eyes were a bright vivid green, and my unruly brown curls clung to my skin.

I could hear Jude's voice whisper in my ear from somewhere in my past: Did anyone ever tell you that your eyes are the same color as emeralds? Especially when you cry, they're radiant.

I closed my eyes, cupped cold water in my hands, and splashed my face.

Get yourself together. Get yourself together.

I was already annoyed with myself for crying, again.

Crying meant a clogged nose, which meant difficulty breathing and an inevitable physical anxiety response.

I could already feel my chest getting tight from not being able to take a deep breath.

You're okay. You're safe. You're okay. That's what Tina, my godsend, my therapist, had taught me to say.

She recommended affirmations and use of my senses to calm myself down.

Breath work was useful most of the time too, but when you can't breathe to begin with--well, yeah.

I dried my face and walked slowly back to my bedroom.

Against my better judgment, I made one more phone call.

I knew I shouldn't have done it. I knew nothing good would come of this call.

Future me was going to be very disappointed.

I scrolled for his number, let my finger hover for only a second, and then hit dial.

The phone rang once, twice, three times. ..

"Hello? Elle, is that you?" His voice was soft and husky, making my heart squeeze and my stomach tighten.

I tried to articulate my thoughts, even a few words, but nothing came out other than a few muffled sobs.

I heard the blankets shuffling. "Elle, it's almost midnight by you.

Are you okay?" His voice was becoming more alert, worried.

Shit . What am I doing?

Before I could apologize or make up an excuse and tell him I accidentally butt-dialed him, I heard someone else's light, groggy voice in the background.

"Jude, baby, who's Elle?"