Ben spending any time with them both. It suddenly struck Emily that she had been a stranger in her own life. She’d been following someone else’s path for years rather than forging her own.
She stormed through the apartment and into the bathroom. Here were the only things that really mattered to her – her nice bath products and makeup. But even that was a problem for Ben. He’d constantly complained about how many products she had, lamenting on them being a waste of money.
“It’s my money to waste!” Emily cried at her reflection in the mirror as she threw all her belongings into a tote bag.
She was aware that she looked like a madwoman, rushing around the bathroom throwing half-empty bottles of shampoo in her bag, but she didn’t care. Her life with Ben had been nothing more than a lie, and she wanted to get out of it as quickly as possible.
She ran into the bedroom next and grabbed her suitcase from under the bed. She filled it quickly with all her clothes and shoes. Once she was done collecting her things, she dragged it all out into the street. Then, as a final symbolic gesture, she went back into the apartment and placed her key on Ben’s “sentimental” coffee table, then left, never to return.
It was only as she stood on the curb that it really hit Emily what she had done. She had made herself jobless and homeless in the space of a few hours. Making herself single had been one thing, but chucking in her entire life was quite another.
Little flutters of panic began to race through her. Her hands trembled as she pulled out her cell and dialed Amy’s number.
“Hey, what’s up?” Amy said.
“I’ve done something crazy,” Emily replied.
“Go on…” Amy urged her.
“I quit my job.”
She heard Amy exhale on the other end of the line.
“Oh thank God,” her friend’s voice came. “I thought you were going to tell me you’d got back with Ben.”
“No, no, quite the opposite. I packed my bags and left. I’m standing in the street like a bag lady.”
Amy began to laugh. “I have the best mental image right now.”
“This isn’t funny!” Emily replied, more panicked than ever. “What am I supposed to do now? I quit my job. I won’t be able to get an apartment without a job!”
“You’ve got to admit it’s a bit funny,” Amy replied, chuckling. “Just bring it all over here,” she added, nonchalantly. “You know you can stay with me until you figure things out.”
But Emily didn’t want to. She’d essentially spent years of her life living in someone else’s space, being made to feel like a lodger in her own home, like Ben was doing her a favor just by having her around. She didn’t want that anymore. She needed to forge her own life, to stand on her own two feet.
“I appreciate the offer,” Emily said, “but I need to do my own thing for a while.”
“I get it,” Amy replied. “So what then? Leave town for a bit? Clear your head?”
That got Emily thinking. Her dad owned a house in Maine. They’d stayed in it during the summer when she was a kid, but it had stayed empty ever since he’d disappeared twenty years ago. It was old, filled with character, and had been gorgeous at one point, in a historic sort of way; it had been more like a sprawling B&B that he didn’t know what to do with than a house.
It was barely in passable shape back then, and Emily knew it wouldn’t be in good shape now, after twenty years left derelict; it also wouldn’t feel the same empty – or now that she wasn’t a kid. Not to mention it was hardly summer. It was February!
And yet the idea of spending a few days just sitting on the porch, looking out at the ocean, in a place that was hers (sort of) seemed suddenly very romantic. Getting out of New York for the weekend would be a good way to clear her head and try to work out what to do next.
“I’ve got to go,” Emily said.
“Wait,” Amy replied. “Tell me where you’re going first!”
Emily took a deep breath.
“I’m going to Maine.”
Chapter Three
Emily had to take several subways to get to the long-term parking lot in Long Island City where her old, abandoned, beat-up car was parked. It had been years since she’d driven the thing, as Ben had always taken lead driver responsibilities in order to show off his precious Lexus, and as she walked through the massive, shadow-filled parking lot, dragging her suitcase behind her, she wondered whether she’d still be able to drive at all. It was another one of those thing she’d let slip over the course of her relationship.
The trip to get only here – to this parking lot on the outskirts of the city – felt endless. As she walked toward her car, her footsteps echoing in the freezing parking lot, she almost felt too tired to go on.
Was she making a mistake? she wondered. Should she turn back?
“There she is.”
Emily turned to see the garage attendant smiling at her beat-up car, as if sympathetically. He reached out and dangled her keys.
The thought of still having an eight-hour drive ahead of her felt overwhelming, impossible. She was already exhausted, physically and emotionally.
“Are you going to take them?” he finally asked.
Emily blinked, not realizing she’d spaced out.
She stood there, knowing this was a pivotal moment somehow. Would she collapse, run back to her old life?
Or would she be strong enough to move on?
Emily finally shook off the dark thoughts and forced herself to be strong. At least for now.
She took the keys and walked triumphantly to her car, trying to show courage and confidence as he walked away, but secretly nervous that it would not even start – and if it did, that she would not even remember how to drive.
She sat in the freezing car, closed her eyes, and turned the ignition. If it started, she told herself, it was a sign. If it was dead, she could turn back.
She hated to admit it to herself, but she secretly hoped it would be dead.
She turned the key.
It started.
It came as a great surprise and comfort to Emily that, although a somewhat erratic driver, she still knew the basics of what she was doing. All she had to do was hit the gas and drive.
It was freeing, watching the world fly by, and slowly, she shook off her mood. She even turned on the radio, remembering it.
Radio blaring, windows rolled down, Emily gripped the steering wheel tightly in her hands. In her mind, she looked like a glamorous 1940s siren in a black-and-white film, with the wind tousling her perfectly coiffed hairstyle. In reality, the frigid February air had turned her nose as red as a berry and her hair into a frizzy mess.
She soon left
