"It's just not realistic," she babbles. "Being an entrepreneur is too risky, and in an industry like this, especially at my age, it doesn't make sense to make it my whole goal. Even working in a restaurant right now is just temporary until I can get something more stable. Better to work a salaried job." She shines a tight smile at me. "Like you."
My brow furrows in confusion and anger. I do work a 9-5 in Corporate America, but I happen to love my job. The stability of the salary and benefits is obviously great, but I love it because I believe in the technology, and I enjoy the social aspect of selling it. It just works for me. But I also recognize that corporate jobs are not for everyone, and that there are plenty of very different—and incredible—benefits of being an entrepreneur. And I know Hailey knows of them because we used to talk about them when she was in high school and she dreamed of being a world-famous baker.
Right now, she just sounds like she's regurgitating some bullshit she heard from some Corporate Asshole.
My jaw clenches when I realize who that particular asshole is.
"You would hate my job," I tell her. "You'd hate the rigidity and lack of creativity in a cubicle. Not to mention, you've always enjoyed physical jobs more. Who told you corporate is the way to go?"
When she doesn't answer my question or look me in the eyes, I know I've guessed right.
But before I can continue this conversation, Remy appears at the end of the hallway.
"Well, that's awkward," she blurts when she sees what we're doing on the ground.
I just glare at her. "Helpful as always, Remy baby."
A quiet growl sounds from her throat at the nickname I know she despises. But I just throw a smirk at her and pull Hailey to her feet, the clothes finally all picked up from the floor.
"Grab the other boxes from the bedroom. I'll bring the kitchen ones down," I order. "What else do you need to pack, Hailes?"
She glances at the clock in the kitchen before looking around the apartment. "Umm, just the bathroom, I think. We made way better time than I thought we would."
I nod. "Good. Let's finish what we need to, then."
Within only another half an hour, we've packed up the rest of Hailey's stuff and have stuffed Remy's car as full of boxes as it will go.
"Why don't you drive home and we'll meet you there?" I suggest. "I just want to load the rest of these boxes into my car and then Hailey and I will head over.
"Sounds good," Remy agrees, dropping a nightstand and table lamp onto her passenger seat.
"Thanks," Hailey tells her with a smile. She glances at the clock on her phone. "This went way quicker with the two of you here."
Remy returns her smile with a light punch to her shoulder. "You got it, little sister. I'm glad you're finally out of this hellhole."
A light blush appears on Hailey's face as she nods her agreement, and I glare at Remy over Hailey's head. It seems like she gets embarrassed by these kinds of negative comments, likely because people can sometimes feel like “idiots”—as she stated last night—for staying with or even dating people like Steve. Ineverwant her to feel like that.
I mentally set a reminder to talk to Remy about how we should be speaking about him in front of Hailey.
"Come on, baby girl, let's finish up." She flashes me a graceful smile before turning to walk back into the building.
"I'm sorry she's not more sensitive about Steve," I tell Hailey as we do a last sweep of the apartment. I grab a box and finish packing any other miscellaneous items around the living room. "I don't think she realizes she's doing it."
She sighs and starts folding the throw blanket in her hand. "I know. She's never really understood what it was like with him, or why I stayed with him for so long. I know she means well and is trying to understand, so I just have to remind myself of that when she says those things." She smiles at me. "You don't have to apologize for her. But thank you for caring enough to do it."
I just grunt in response. "Of course I care. I know this is hard on you. I know this whole last year was hard. You don't need anyone else making it worse for you."
"You and Lucy are the only ones that understand any of it," she says quietly. Thoughtfully. "Lucy, because she knows how long-term relationships can change—how they can change people—and you, because... well, I'm not sure why you understand what I'm going through. Or at least, you understand that it's hard and complicated and confusing."
I nod. "I know who you are as a person. I know your heart and your dreams and your mind, and I know who you were—who you were growing into—when you met Steve." I swallow my bubbling anger on a harsh swallow. "And I know that it must've taken a lot for him to hurt and confuse you, enough that you seemed to lose your Hailey sparkle."
She doesn't respond, just nods her head sadly.
I straighten nervously where I’m taping up a box. "You know you can come to me about anything, right? I'll listen whenever you want to talk."
She smiles at me, but again, it's just sad. "I know. Thank you for being there for me. I'll tell you everything, I promise. I just want to work through it in my head a little first. There are a lot of things I feel like I need to completely reevaluate in hindsight."
I nod my agreement. "I can only imagine." But then something occurs to me and I take the folded up blanket from her hands so I can lay it on the couch and grip her chin in my hand. She doesn't say anything, just blinks at me in surprise.