AS SOON AS TRISTAN REPLIED to his client by email and started to close his laptop, a chime interrupted him. A chat window popped open. He had hoped to head out for an early evening break, but he eyed the clock and, with a grunt, decided to make himself available.
Checking the username, he recognized it as a client who had started working with him in the last couple of weeks. The public figure, whoever she was. He hoped she didn’t make a habit of using these live chats. He didn’t mind them on occasion and felt they made a great first impression, but they prevented him from prioritizing his responses.
CAGirl202: Hi Russell, it’s Callie. Are you available to chat?
Well, as long as he’d already stopped what he was up to, maybe he could tackle this one right away. She wasn’t one of his more difficult clients.
RMerritt44: Hi Callie, I’m here.
CAGirl202: Are these live chats OK?
RMerritt44: Yes, but if I don’t respond, please know I’m simply assisting another client.
CAGirl202: I understand. It helps to talk to a live person. I don’t have many of those. Not many I can confide in, anyway.
RMerritt44: So what’s on your mind?
A pause. Was she putting together her thoughts? Tristan eyed the clock again. He’d promised some friends he’d meet them at a karaoke bar for appetizers and hang time in an hour or so.
At last, another chime.
CAGirl202: It’s been a rough day.
RMerritt44: How so?
CAGirl202: I’ve done some thinking.
RMerritt44: About?
CAGirl202: My career. My life.
RMerritt44: What spurred your sudden evaluation?
CAGirl202: Something happened. Something not good.
RMerritt44: Can you share more?
CAGirl202: No, it’s too humiliating. It’s the worst thing that could happen to me at this point.
RMerritt44: These things tend to pass, don’t they? You mentioned you’re a public figure. Surely you’ve endured challenges before.
CAGirl202: Not like this. This is—it couldn’t get much worse. It’s funny, fame looked so enticing before I had it. But now, it’s like I don’t belong to myself anymore. Everyone feels entitled to a piece of me.
RMerritt44: Everyone?
CAGirl202: Not everyone. But I don’t know who those exceptions are. I don’t know who I can trust.
RMerritt44: Can you take a sabbatical?
CAGirl202: It’s not that easy. This thing that happened, it’s not project-related and it won’t go away. The pressure is building. It was always there, but it’s tripled with this latest incident.
RMerritt44: Is a mental vacation what’s needed?
CAGirl202: No. In my career, the only way I can avoid these things is to totally walk away. End the whole thing.
Tristan considered how many people ended one career and began a new one. How many said they found more contentment in the next chapter of their lives than in the previous one?
RMerritt44: Sometimes you do just need to walk away from everything. Something better might be on the other side.
CAGirl202: But what if the other side is darkness?
RMerritt44: Risk is part of the equation.
CAGirl202: I’m so tired. Maybe the pressure isn’t worth it.
Why did she keep talking that way?
RMerritt44: Callie, are you OK?
CAGirl202: I think I need some time to myself. Maybe this chat was a mistake. I’m wasting your time.
Tristan straightened in his seat. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
RMerritt44: You’re not wasting my time, Callie.
He waited, but no response arrived.
Shit. What had he done?
RMerritt44: Callie, are you there?
A longer pause. Tristan jiggled his knee.
A reply never arrived.
His stomach went sour. Now he was nervous. Would he hear from her again? Ever?
Tristan had dealt with an array of clients. He’d grown accustomed to people complaining about their lives. After all, the primary reason most contacted him was because they were dissatisfied and sought improvement.
But Callie was different. As he reflected on that afternoon’s odd chat, apprehension mounted. This sounded more serious than what he was used to, and Tristan wondered if he’d gotten in over his head. He was just a guy making a living. He never intended to make anyone’s life worse.
So what the fuck just happened? Where was she?
Another chime. Tristan gasped and looked at the screen, then a hammerhead sunk in his gut. She had signed out.
All he had was her username. He didn’t know her real name, her address, or her billing information. He couldn’t track her down. And by her own admission, she had decided not to offer any clues about her predicament.
Yes, this was more serious than he’d realized at first.
Tristan tensed his jaw and slammed his hand on the arm of his chair, kicking himself for not paying closer attention, for trying to breeze through their conversation.
Suddenly, he wasn’t in the mood for karaoke.
With a sigh he grabbed his keys and headed out to grab coffee. Might as well. His work was finished here.