When the meeting ended, Sarah remained near my desk.
“You’re really going to that thing?” she asked.
“Linda, he’s going to be brutal. You know how he gets when there’s a crowd.”
“I know exactly how he gets,” I replied.
She studied my expression, searching for something.
I made sure she found nothing.
“Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” she said. “Leave if it gets too bad.”
That evening, I opened the folder I had been building for months.
I reread every page.
For the first time in weeks, I was no longer wondering whether I could carry out my plan.
I was wondering what it might cost everyone involved.
For fourteen days, Greg’s announcement sat inside my chest like a stone.
I stood before my bathroom mirror and looked at the body he had mocked for years.
Twelve years of loyalty.
Twelve years of repairing broken reports without recognition.
Now he had arranged a water-park retreat where I knew he intended to turn me into the day’s entertainment.
I could already imagine the jokes.
—
“You don’t have to go,” my sister told me during a phone call. “Linda, just call in sick. Nobody would blame you.”
After a long pause, she sighed.
“You’ve already decided, haven’t you?” she asked. “About the water park, and the—”
“I’ll call afterward and let you know how it goes,” I interrupted.
I ended the call and stared at the wall.
The decision weighed heavily on me.
Once I followed through, there would be no returning to the life I knew.
I was not certain I was ready for what came afterward.
For perhaps the hundredth time, I wondered whether quitting quietly would be easier.
But I could not do that.
On the morning of the retreat, I sat alone in the water park’s parking lot.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
I opened the folder resting on the passenger seat.
Inside were four densely printed pages.
“You can do this,” I whispered to the windshield. “You have to…”
My phone vibrated.
Sarah had sent a message.
You coming? He already made three jokes about you not being here.
I stared at it.
I began typing a response, then pressed the call button instead.
“Hey,” Sarah answered quietly. “You okay?”
“Sarah, listen. I need to ask you something and I need you to be honest.”
“Okay.”
I heard loud pool music behind her and someone laughing too hard.
“What kind of something?” she asked carefully.
“The kind we should have said a long time ago.”
Silence followed.
“Linda, if you’re doing what I think you’re doing, I’m in,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for someone to go first.”
I closed my eyes.
For the first time in twelve years, I was no longer carrying everything alone.
“Is Mark there?” I asked.
“He is.”
“Got it.”
I ended the call, tucked the folder beneath my arm, and stepped out of the car.
