Josephine
An hour after I’d returned to my apartment, I was still wearing my rented designer gown as I browsed Facebook on my computer. My hair had mostly fallen out of my up-do (it was more of an up-don’t by that point) and my thrifted Jimmy Choos were lying on the floor beside my coffee table after I’d haphazardly kicked them off when I’d gotten home.
Josephine: I made such a fool of myself tonight.
Lily: Spill. It’s probably worse than you think it is.
Josephine: I told my could-be-future-boss that he didn’t have to give me an interview just because I was “practically begging for it”.
Lily: So…you came onto him. Bold move, Casanova.
I thought back to the way Julian had tried to conceal his laughter. It hadn’t worked. His dimples were there, the smile was there, and I knew he’d caught the unintentional innuendo.
Josephine: Oh god. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m going to bed.
I went through my nighttime routine, finally peeling off the red gown in exchange for a soft nightshirt. I kept my makeup on as I brushed my teeth, admiring the way the Nordstrom counter girl had applied my eye shadow earlier in the night. The gold tones made my green eyes pop and it was a pity to have to wipe it off.
Once I’d checked that my one tiny window was locked and my apartment door was double bolted, I sauntered over to my bed and pulled my phone from where I’d set it to charge. I already knew there were two voicemails waiting for me. I’d ignored the calls earlier in the day, praying they’d both disappear by the time I got around to checking them.
Unfortunately, they were both still there waiting for me.
The first message was from Janine, my loan adviser and least favorite person in the world. I pressed play and stared up at my ceiling.
“Hello Ms. Keller, this is Janine Buchanan from Forest Financial. I’m calling because we didn’t receive your student loan payment last month. This is the second month in a row that we’ve had a late payment from you and I want to remind you that one more missed payment means you risk defaulting. Also, please be advised that after a third late payment we will have no choice but to hire a collection agency and notify the credit bureau—”
I hung up. Ms. Buchanan wasn’t telling me anything I hadn’t heard before. Yes, my payments were late, yes I was dangerously close to defaulting on my loan, but unless I could start paying them back with Monopoly money, I was shit out of luck. I could either pay rent or pay my loans, and being homeless in NYC wasn’t cute.
My phone automatically started playing the second voicemail message, and as terrible as Janine’s had been, that one was far worse.
“Josephine, this is your mother.” As if I wouldn’t recognize her voice. “Listen, I know you aren’t going to take this well but I just have to tell you one more time. It’s my job as a mother to make sure you’re making good decisions and I can’t help but feel like you’re headed down the wrong path. Your father and I have talked and we think you should come back home to Texas. You’ve only been in New York for two weeks. No one will even have to know that you left. We’ll help with your loans and you can get a job in town. I’m not sure what you could do with that fashion degree of yours, but we’ll figure it out. I was talking to Beatrice when I was shopping and she said her sister is the manager at the TJ Maxx—”
I pressed end on the message before it was over and dropped my phone onto my bed. Throughout high school, I’d overheard hushed conversations between my parents that often followed the same pattern: my dad would worry that I was being bullied at school for the way I dressed, then my mom would do her best to settle his nerves, but nothing helped. “Why can’t she just be like the other girls?” might not have ever been said aloud, but it was the undertone of most of my adolescent years.
My parents had a way of cowing me so easily, so swiftly, that for a moment I almost considered moving home. How easy would it be to live with them and have them help me with my loans? How easy would it be to give up on living my dream in New York City for a quiet life in Dullsville, Texas? Sure, I’d managed to find a tiny apartment, but how long would I be able to afford the rent? How long could I pretend that anything was going according to plan?
I let the nagging self-doubt sink in. If my parents didn’t believe I could make it, then how could I believe in myself? After all, New York wasn’t for everyone. Right?
But then I remembered Julian and the promise of a job interview and I decided that first thing in the morning I was going to march down to the Lorena Lefray offices and demand an interview.
I had nothing to lose, and I knew no one needed the position as badly as I did.