My head was pressed against the steering wheel as I cried into my speakers on the phone with Shane.
“I just can’t do this anymore,” I sobbed. “I don’t want to be here. I want to be in Las Vegas. Or Europe. I am so stuck!”
It had been more than a week since I had been back from Las Vegas and I was frozen.
Stuck in this miserable, awful rut of self-pity. Of confusion. Of every rotten emotion someone could have.
I don’t want to be in Maryland. I want to be in Las Vegas.
“What can you do to make it happen?” My patient friend asked.
I needed a job. I needed money. I needed so many things to simultaneously fall into place that it made my head spin.
“I don’t know.”
A few days earlier I had posted on facebook about how badly I wanted to be back in Las Vegas.
“Just come home …” Kyla had written on my wall. “You can come be a nanny and we will figure it out.”
“Just do it,” he said as I sat in my car, motionless, hoping to regain my composure once I walked in the front door.
“Right,” I began, and then he and I planned everything out.
A few minutes later I had calmed down and let myself in my house, where my dad was sitting at the kitchen table.
“Dad,” I breathed. “I need to talk to you.”
We sat together and I laid it out.
I want to move back to Las Vegas. Even though I don’t have a job. Even though I am running out of money. Even though my belongings are in Atlanta. I am going to buy a ticket out there, returning in a month for Thanksgiving, and I am going to live with Kyla and I am going to pound the pavement until I find a job. Then, I am going to make my stay as permanent as I can make anything (semi-permanent).
It was a risk. There was a real threat of not succeeding and having to return to Maryland, tail tucked between my legs and even more miserable than I had been.
But, hell. It’s not like I hadn’t taken any risks before. Right?
“OK,” he said, grinning. “You do what you need to do.”
So, I booked a round-trip ticket from BWI to Las Vegas, Vegas back to BWI… and then another ticket to return to Las Vegas after Thanksgiving.
“I’m doing it,” I said, smiling to myself.
A wave of emotion rushed over me. Comfort. Relief. Challenge.
At that moment, everything finally felt right.