Page 5 of A Bossy Roommate
It’s all about moving forward and leaving the past where it belongs: in the rearview mirror. The thrill of finally being here, of finally having the chance to experience the Big Apple, is as strong as it was when I first made my decision. I’d always wantedto go to New York City, but Rob never shared my enthusiasm. Despite my numerous attempts, he consistently brushed off any plans I proposed for us. So, since he isn’t in my life anymore, this is the perfect time to do what I’ve always dreamed of.
My sister, fifteen years my senior, thinks I’m crazy (which, to be fair, might have some merit), and refused to help me financially, not that I’ve asked her. I still have some pride. Also, it’s not as though she has the financial capability, even if she had entertained the thought (which she did not).
“You have a job and life here,” she said when I told her of my plans. “I don’t see how running away to New York is going to change anything.”
“I’m not running away,” I insisted, easing her concerns by offering to help find a temporary replacement. “Just wait six months. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Having to go back to living with my sister in my childhood room after everything that had happened had been the worst part of the entire experience, worse than being left penniless. Following our parents’ passing, my sister and her husband had moved into the small family home.
She held a deep dislike for Rob and had been vehemently against our relationship, and even more so, our marriage. I’d been too much in love to see what she had. Too blinded by love. I was so ready to be Rob’s wife, to start a family with the man I loved. Until the rug had been pulled out from underneath me.
Seven years of my life—wasted on someone who never wanted the happily ever after with me. But amid the wreckage, thankfully, I made at least one smart decision. Before heading to NYC, I’d emailed an attorney for a free consultation. If she decides to take my case, it could mean a chance to reclaim at least some of my money. But deep down, I don’t have high hopes. Until her reply, I’m determined to erase the damn scammer from my mind.
I’m not going to let him ruin my day.
And I’m not going to let my one-night stand ruin it either.
“I’m swearing off men for good.” I get out of bed and stretch. “No more men.Period,” I say, forcing myself to ignore the wobbliness in my muscles—muscles that had had the best workout last night. “Okay, not for good, of course, that’s too dramatic. But for a very,very,verylong time. Six months minimum!”
Six months. The time I plan to be in NYC before returning home.
This city, teeming with countless individuals, offers the perfect environment to sharpen my instincts, to become better at reading people. The fact that I misjudged Rob to such an extent has dealt a serious blow to my confidence. But I refuse to let it dampen my optimism. Six months away from home presents the perfect window for me to rebuild my self-esteem, regain my confidence, and return home prepared to join forces with my older sister.
I’m grateful that at least two kind souls in their seventies, Kate and her husband, Lewis, family friends of my late parents, reached out to me to offer support. They had been some of the first to RSVP to our wedding. After everything happened, I wasn’t expecting to hear from anybody, so when they called and told me they felt at a loss for words over Rob’s actions, it was a comforting surprise.
Despite his true nature, Rob is widely adored by people (save for my sister), but Kate and Lewis were compassionate enough to examine the situation more closely, especially in the aftermath of what occurred.
Lewis used his contacts in NYC to get me a job interview via phone with Legacy Builders, a prestigious construction firm in Manhattan that needed an administrative assistant. I hadn’t been able to get out of my PJs for days, but thanksto Zoom, I was hired by HR anyway. But the real stroke of luck was when Lewis and Kate offered their already-furnished apartment for me to stay rent free, so long as I took care of the place. Apparently, the current resident, an older lady, had unexpectedly decided to move out on the tenth. And, as even more luck would have it, Kate and her husband weren’t able to find anyone suitable to move in until my time there was over.
“You’d be doing us a favor. We’d rather it not sit empty,” Kate said when they took me out to lunch to present the offer, and I insisted that I couldn’t possibly say yes. “It’s the least we can do. If you want it, it’s yours.”
“I don’t know what to say.” I was close to tears, emotional over their generosity. “I don’t really have much…”
“We know,” Lewis said. “Don’t worry about rent. You need help until you get back on your feet, and we’re more than happy to provide it.”
He forced the spare key to the apartment into my hands.
And just like that, the stage for my comeback was set.
The motel I’m staying at is the only one within my budget. While it may not boast luxury, it offers comfort, affordability…and a truly unique experience.
“It’s my time.” I repeat the words I said to my sister as I squeeze toothpaste onto my brush. “I’m a bad bitch, and I’m going to show everyone—including myself—how a bad bitch bounces back after a bad breakup.”
And I believe it with my whole heart.
“You do that.” My sister had sighed in disbelief and pulled me into an unhappy hug.
It takesa while for the water to heat up in the shower, and even then, it’s lukewarm. I don’t mind. I find it refreshing, and it helps wash away any lingering headache. (Too much sugar yesterday.)
Selecting my favorite pencil skirt with an elegant light-blue button-up blouse, I get dressed. While my brown hair is still wet, I twist it and pin it up into a sleek bun.
Instinctively, I go to grab my necklace from my jewelry bag before I remember I don’t have it anymore. Rob gave it to me on our first anniversary. After the whole altar-dumping-and-bank-account-clearing event, I took it straight to the pawnshop. That, and my engagement ring. The money I got from it had paid for my road trip. It feels weird not to have it after wearing it nearly every day for such a long time.
I leave my neck bare and put on a little foundation, a little mascara, and nude lipstick.
With my headheld high and pride in every step, I execute my absolutebestwalk from the motel—far from any hint of a walk of shame. Confidence is key.
After throwing my stuff into Kiki’s trunk (my beloved blue 2012 Kia Rio), I climb in and wince when my eyes land on the gas gauge—just over a quarter of a tank left. Hopefully I won’t get stuck in morning traffic too long. I still need to find my way there, and in the evening, all the way to my new kick-ass NYC apartment.