Participant Page 20
“So did everyone love the shoot?” I ask.
“I’m in love,” Talya says. “Now I know for sure I want to be a model. It was the best.”
“So how was yours?” I ask Sabrina.
“I was just like, whatever, let’s get this thing over with. I signed up for the earliest slot so I was half asleep when I got there.”
Sabrina changed her mind about doing the shoot at the very last minute possible. Something about if she was going to do it she might as well go all the way and it was my turn to be right about something.
“Are you glad you did it? Was it fun?” I ask, pressing her for more information. She’s so nonchalant about everything. You kind of have to dig it out of her.
“It was okay. I think I did fine.” She shrugs her shoulders.
“Are you kidding? She was awesome.” Mindy says, hopping up on the kitchen counter, with Molly and Callie at her heels. “Your rooftop deck is killer, by the way. Anyways, I think she’s actually done this before and is just holding out on us.”
I’m not surprised. She’s good at everything. I feel a slight twinge of jealousy because I know that she didn’t even want to do this, probably put half the effort into it that I did and probably still did better than me.
“Next stop, Agency Day!” Mindy screams. Molly jumps off the counter and she Mindy and Callie clasp hands, squealing and jumping around in a hyper circle of giddy excitement.
“Janine, Karen, and Lexi, you should still do it, just for fun! We’d all be doing it together,” Molly pleads.
Janine and Karen both decided it wasn’t for them. “No way!” Karen says, shaking her head. “That entire industry is way too pretentious and prissy for me. I want nothing to do with it. I hope Callie becomes the next big super model because that’s what she wants, but it’s not my thing. I wouldn’t mind being her manager, though,” she says, raising her eyebrows at Callie. “She’ll need someone to protect her from those sharks once she makes it, but I’ll be spending my summer at the beach.”
“Have you told mom yet?” Callie questions.
“Don’t you worry about that,” Karen replies in a knowing voice.
“Janine?” I ask. “Why won’t you?”
“You have to know why. First of all, I didn’t exactly thrive in acting, and me as a model is kind of a joke. I already got exactly what I wanted out of this. I’m a better speaker, I’m more confident and I look more professional at work. I don’t look the part of model. I’m okay with that, so I’m not offering myself up on a chopping block to agents. I’ve just been playing, really. And it’s been wonderful and fun, but I have a secret. Everyone doesn’t want to be in the entertainment industry. I know most people would break their necks to get in there, but it doesn’t appeal to me at all. I just think there are better things to do with your life. Now, if the prize was an executive career on the technical side of the biz in some way, preferably having something to do with networking and computers, well, then I might have to reconsider.”
That’s Janine, computer geek through and through.
“But people in the entertainment industry are rich,” I interject. “Wouldn’t you want that?” I was playing devil’s advocate with Janine, but deep down I was still trying to convince myself. I’ve been alternating between feeling ridiculous for wanting to participate and feeling like my life depends on it.
“I guess, but there are other ways to earn a decent living.”
I wish I had no desire to be admired, beautiful and rich. How else could someone like me ever make enough money to be like those women on reality TV who spend their days dining out, shopping and vacationing? How else might I ever make enough money to help my parents? I’m not smart like Janine, or born with a silver spoon in my mouth like Sabrina. You land one national commercial and you’re set. Most importantly, I think I’d love it, except it’s not a regular job you fill out an application for. The acting world operates on an entirely separate plane with a very different set of rules and standards.
“I thought you said you were going to apply,” Sabrina says to me.
“I was seriously considering it, but it’s just not realistic. I have an extremely structured job. No flexibility whatsoever. And there are bills to pay.”
“But you said you were passionate about acting,” Tessa reminds me.
“I am.” I say simply.
“For me, it’s doesn’t really feel like a choice,” Tessa continues. “Performing in some way is the only thing I’ve ever really wanted to do. My drama teachers thought the sun shone out of my ass and I believed them. When I showed up in Hollywood straight out of high school, I was just one of a million other pretty faces who had been told they were going to be a star...and then reality hit. I blamed the industry, until I went head to head with Earl Warren.” She looks pointedly at Mindy and Molly. “You girls are going to have to work really hard. In all seriousness, it’s not as easy as it looks, and for me, this might be my best and last chance.”
“Don’t worry, we’re going to make it together,” Mindy says, grabbing Molly’s hand. Sweet Molly is used to her superstar best friend leaving her in the dust of second place, but in this case, second place may not be enough.
“I believe in doing something you’re passionate about. I don’t want to sit in a boring office all day when I grow up,” Callie says. That thought never crossed my mind when I was her age. I had one passion, but I wasn’t any good at it and it certainly didn’t translate into a career.
“It’s not something I’ve always wanted to do, but I want it really bad right now,” Talya says. “I want to see the world and modeling is something you have to do when you’re young. My business career can wait.”
Agency Day doesn’t makes sense for me. I don’t have the freedom to go traipsing off to LA for auditions, and as awesome as winning that scholarship to NYC would be, I don’t know if I stand a chance against the Mindys and Mollys of Agency Day. First I’d have to get in, but even if I won, I don’t know how to put my life on hold to pack up and move. What would I do with my car? What job would I have to come back to? How would I pay rent? The rational side of me who was too skeptical to sign up for Chloe Dillon is scared, and the bold side of me who ran in there and did it anyway refuses to be heard.
That night feels like a graduation party of sorts and not from the lame overpriced modeling school that I originally thought Chloe Dillon would be. I still think it’s overpriced, but it’s not lame at all. Maybe it’s pathetic that it took a class for me to learn how to put on eyeliner or experience genuine happiness and purpose, but not everyone is a natural when it comes to life. It was an expensive lesson, but chances are it’s just as much as I might have paid for therapy and a lot more fun. Plus, I made some amazing friends in the process. I’m so grateful I got a chance to meet these interesting and talented girls who have all taught me something in their own way, whether they realize it or not. My heart sinks, thinking about not seeing them twice a week anymore, then sinks even further because they have the world at their feet and all I have is a job I hate holding me down.
Plates loaded with delicious food, we head upstairs to the rooftop where we have a goofy dance off to Sabrina’s iTunes and reminisce about our time together at Chloe Dillon. Tessa’s Earl Warren impressions are so good, I snort wine through my nose laughing at her.
“Sing, sing, sing,” we chant until Mindy and Molly reluctantly agree on a song. Their voices comingle in perfect harmony in an a cappella version of a bluesy soulful song with such strength and clarity that goose bumps break out all over my arms and my eyes water with emotion. I didn’t realize they were that good. We put our arms around each other and sway to the rhythm of their voices until the last note rings out, fading into the pitch black sky. They hug each other and smile sheepishly before taking a bow to enthusiastic applause. The city lights of the San Diego skyline is the backdrop for silly group selfies, a cacophony of joyous laughter, and a night I wish would never end.
Chapter 28
The day after Sabrina’s party, I slept in really late, which rarely happens anymore. Sabrina said I could stay over, but I didn’t have my toothbrush, my pajamas or my favorite house slippers. The only thing that feeds my anxiety more than clutter or unplanned activities is not having my stuff. I cannot function without my stuff, so I stayed really late until I was okay to drive. I woke up groggy and couldn’t snap out of it for the next day. Weeks later, and I still can’t snap out of it. Whatever it is. I can’t fully explain it, but Chloe Dillon was a beacon of light leading me down a path I didn’t know I wanted to follow. Now that it’s over, I can’t shake this now what emptiness rattling in my chest.
Stewing uncomfortably in my own thoughts is a recipe for disaster. The old Alexis isn’t welcome, and I have to do something to keep her out. Step one: I already miss acting a lot, so I sign up for Earl Warren’s acting workshop. I slap it on my credit card just like I did the Chloe Dillon classes. Step two: Take Operation Get Fit to the next level. I need to workout. I don’t trust my neighborhood after the sun sets, so I go outside for a run as soon as I get home from work.
The next day, I do my hair up with a side braid that disappears into an elegant ballerina bun. I even wear eyeliner and dig a semi-cute top out of my closet that I haven’t worn in a really long time. I put my game face on, but the hollow pit in my stomach won’t go away and the day goes downhill before it’s barely begun. My eyes well up with tears as I approach the building that will swallow me whole and spit me out at the end of the day.
I walk in to twenty-eight voicemail messages. I don’t even have time to write them all down before I have to start putting out fires. My head is pounding by the time lunch rolls around, and I’m still playing catch up when four claims are slapped upon my desk at once. It might as well have been a slap in the face. I can’t move. Frustrated tears prick at the back of my eyes. The phone rings. “Thank you for calling Silver Insurance, how may we service you?” I say in a strained wooden voice I barely recognize as my own.
If Sarah were here, we’d make crazy oh my god we’re going to die faces at each other over the cubicle wall to ease the pain, but her desk is vacant. She ended up doing exactly what she really didn’t want to and put in notice at Silver. She got accepted to grad school starting in September and between the wedding planning, the wedding itself and their long honeymoon, it made more sense to just go ahead and quit. It’s been really hard for her to let go of her independence and let Jason provide for her, but he finally wore her down.
Her last day was bittersweet. I was happy for her to be embarking on an exciting time in her life, but I didn’t know how I’d survive Silver Insurance every day without her and Chloe Dillon. It wasn’t payday, but we decided to push it and rush over to our favorite lunch spot for one last hurrah. I almost burst into tears when she ordered her usual Au Jus Sandwich with fries. On the way back, we saw Angela returning from lunch.
“Sarah!” she called out, so we slowed down to wait for her to catch up. “I forgot to mention it earlier, but I’m having a wrap party at my house next week. I want you to come.”
I stepped back a little and averted my gaze. I didn’t expect to be invited, but it was a little awkward that she had to ask Sarah right in front of me.
“Oh, sorry Lexi, I’d invite you too except I wasn’t sure that you could afford something like that, so...”
“Yeah. No big deal,” I said quietly. I don’t even think that stuff works anyway. If you could wrap away your fat then everybody would be skinny, and everybody is not skinny.
Sarah appeared very uncomfortable with this obvious slight, so I excused myself and waited for her inside. I haven’t looked Angela’s way since. With Sarah gone, there’s no need for any kind of interaction with her at all.
I stare at those evil claims burning a hole in my desk and think about my future. Twenty years from now, I’ll be the supervisor surrounded by co-workers who have literally watched me age from a ripe, vibrant twenty-something to a beaten down, graying fifty-something. There has to be more to life than that.
Chances are, I’ll take my yearly raise and keep coming back for more because I’m too afraid to do anything else. Meanwhile, my heart will become full with regret and my spirit crushed flatter and flatter until there’s nothing left. Is that really how I want my life to be?
Focus. I only have one hundred twenty minutes to contact and hopefully engage eight people in conversations that will take at least two hundred forty minutes in all and I’ve already wasted ten. I want to run out the door and never come back, but I squeeze my eyes shut for a second and take a deep breath to calm my rapidly beating heart. I grab one of the files and get to work.
I can hear my heart beating in my ears in time with the throbbing in my head. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. I can’t! I’m screaming inside, but the sound won’t make it past the giant lump in my throat. I don’t want to be my parents—lives full of thankless, unfulfilling work. Something inside of me breaks just then and a voice whispers in my ear. You know what you have to do. I don’t know what it is, but I have this terrible feeling that this job is really bad for me and that I will teeter on the precarious edge between misery and not quite happy as long as I have to sit at this desk every day. I didn’t just spend all that money on Chloe Dillon and put all this effort into pulling myself up only to be sucked back down.
I’m used to playing it safe, but in that moment, I hit a wall. Hard. Like head on collision with air bags exploding hard. The plan to change my life was flimsy and full of holes, and with startling clarity, I realize that anything—no matter how awful it might be—has got to be better than this. I could spend a million dollars on personal growth lessons and it will never ever help me if I’m too afraid to make real changes that will have a real impact on my life. That voice again. Do it. And this is the point where I snapped.
Step three: Quit your horrible job. I closed the file I was working on and flipped my notepad to a fresh sheet of paper. To whom it may concern: Please allow this to serve as notification that in two weeks’ time, I no longer wish to be employed with Silver Insurance. Thank You, Alexis Conway. I signed my name, tore it off and walked to my supervisor’s office. She looked up from her desk when she saw me in the doorway.
“Hi, Jan. I just needed to give you this.”
She took one look at it, got up and shut her door behind us.
“Alexis, what are you doing? You just put in for Supervisor. I don’t understand.”
I had no idea what I was going to do if I was chosen, but now I won’t have to worry about it.
“You know I haven’t been happy here for a long time.”
“But you’re so good. You can do anything you want here. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I’m sure.”
But I wasn’t. I wasn’t sure that this was the right thing to do; I just knew that I had to do it. It’s impossible for me to be happy and work here. Even more impossible is what I plan to do for money. How stupid of me. What am I thinking? I could still change my mind, but then I think about all the work at my desk and the new claims that will keep coming and my body feels so heavy and tired. Thinking about continuing on this way for god knows how long makes me feel panicky, so I don’t do the smart thing and change my mind. I tell Jan that my mind is made up and that I would really love it if this could be kept quiet. I would like to disappear into the sunset, so to speak, without any gossip, talk, or, heaven forbid, a going away party. I want to go quietly.
“What will you do?” she asks with concern in her voice. Her gray hair lists to the side as she tilts her head.
“I haven’t really thought that far ahead.” Shrugging my shoulders, I glance at the piece of paper that’s about to change my life. I could still snatch it back and I know she’d never say a word to anybody about this momentary lapse of judgment, but I don’t. “Thank you, Jan,” I say, and walk out of her office and presumably towards the next phase of my life. I just wish I knew exactly what that was.
The final two weeks of work have been, by far, the best days I’ve had at Silver Insurance in a long time; maybe ever. It’s a lot easier to deal with angry people knowing that very soon, I won’t have to deal with them ever, ever again. Yell at me all you want because next week, you’ll be somebody else’s problem. I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying it out loud.
My last day is gorgeous and sunny without a single cloud in the sky, as if the weather gods were celebrating with me. I walk away from Silver with my cliché but entirely necessary brown box, feeling oddly sad. At the same time, a huge burden lifts from my shoulders. I close my eyes, tilt my face towards the sun, and turn around for one last look at the building. The drama surrounding my quick and mysterious exit will fuel office gossip for weeks if not months. It’s a miracle my secret stayed a secret as long as it did, but word eventually got out and when it did, the first person to let me know was Angela.
“So, are you going off to be a model now?” She caught me outside, reading on my second to last lunch break. The material of her navy blazer strained against the red buttons wrestling with her mid-section, but unlike her, I’m not cruel enough to passively aggressively point it out.
“Uh, no...” I said, shaking my head, slowly wondering why she would think modeling.
“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s too bad. I heard about that modeling school thing, and I thought for sure that’s why you put in notice,” she said, flashing a not so sorry smile in my direction and tapping one of her expensive, pointy-toed, red pumps on the concrete. All too happy to supply the information, she continued, “I ran into your friend Tessa, the one from Sarah’s party. She told me.”
Tessa? Why? When? My mind swam with questions, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of asking. I decided to tell her the truth. “I’m actually interested in pursuing acting. I’m winging it, but at least I’m not pretending to be something I’m not.”