I leave her apartment with a heavy heart. And I realize there’s only one thing I can do. Pulling out my phone, I hit dial on Simon’s number. It’s time to visit my best friend.
26
Violet
I haven’t needed Ida in a while. And if I had to be honest, I didn’t even read her reply from my message weeks ago. When I was still unsure about Colton. I’d been so wrapped up in being with him I figured it was all going smoothly.
Now that I’ve sent him off to do his thing, I open the message she sent in response to my plea.
Dear Frustrated in Brooklyn,
There’s never been a sentence that angered me more than I don’t feel good enough. No woman should ever feel like that. Do you understand me? If someone doesn’t see you for how special you are, they need to walk out and have the door hit their ass on the way out.
No man is worth your doubt. And you are worth more than any person’s ridicule. When others put us down, it’s on them. They’re the ones who feel inferior, but if you put yourself down, that’s on you, and it’s not a good look to wear.
From your message, you’ve told me the date went well. Even though it was only a friendly dinner, it’s a step in the right direction. Learn about him before you go falling over yourself to please him.
Don’t change who you are to make him want you. That’s not how this love game works, Frustrated. It’s true the saying, there are many fish in the sea, and if this isn’t your cod, you’ll find bigger and better one down the line.
But before you can do that, you need to look inside yourself and see where that self-doubt is coming from. I believe, from your messages, you’ve been hurt before. Perhaps not by a man but by someone telling you that you’re not good enough.
Here’s my advice: you need to face that person, whoever they are, and tell them just how much you will no longer crave their validation. You need to release their power over you, or I have to say, you’ll forever be stuck in this cycle of not feeling good enough.
You are a strong, independent woman — act like it.
Yours in honesty,
Ida
She’s right. As always, Ida has gotten it right. It’s not Colton who’s made me feel inferior — it’s my sister. My chest aches when I re-read Ida’s message. I walked away from Colton because of my own fears, not because he did anything wrong. It’s the anxiety that comes from my past, not from what Colton and I shared.
I can’t be with him if I’m still holding on to the pain my sister inflicted on me. That’s my own battle to fight. Pushing up from my chair, I march into Clarissa’s office, causing her to stop tapping on her keyboard and look at me.
“Violet.”
“Clarissa, I need a couple of days off,” I request with confidence, settling into the wingback chair facing her desk. “I need to go home, see my sister. It’s a personal matter.”
Her gaze narrows. Then she turns to face me fully. Her hands clasped on her desk, Clarissa leans forward ever so slightly. There’s a hint of a smile on her lips as she regards me for a long while.
“That’s fine, but,” she counters, and my heart thuds against my ribs. “When you get back, I’d like to talk to you about the journalist position. I don’t want you doing stupid interviews and such. I want you to start thinking about your first article. I’m giving you something I think you’ll enjoy. Tell us about women in general. Give me a bird’s-eye view of life as a working woman, stepping up the ladder to a career of her dreams.”
“You want an autobiographical piece from me?” Shock rings in my words, lacing them, holding them hostage. Clarissa nods, a smile that’s been absent in her expression since I first walked into her office for my interview appears. “Thank you. Yes, I can do it.” I don’t know how, but I’ll figure out a way. Nothing is going to stand in my way of finally having the career I’ve worked so hard for.
“Good. Then let me know when you’re leaving on your mini vacation and when you’re likely to return, and I’ll make plans for when you’re back.” She turns to her laptop, indicating my time in her office is over, and for the first time, I don’t feel as if she’s being rude or dismissive. I feel like I’ve just been given a gift.
An opportunity to have my dream come true.
As soon as I step into my childhood home, the pain that forced me to leave seems to swirl around me from every corner of the house. The living room and kitchen are separated by a thick wall, and the upstairs leads to three bedrooms and a family bathroom. It’s not big; it’s what real estate agents would call cozy.