"You didn't seriously apply for that job, did you?" McKenzie asks, throwing the last of her darts.
The dart flies from the board, nearly hitting a couple at a table before skidding across the beer-covered floor. I delicately pick the dart out of the alcohol and dirt before wiping my hands on my jeans.
McLeary's is the best hole in the wall in town. The familiar stench, dark and dreary wall decor, and cash-only bar wait to greet you like an old, crabby friend. The owner doesn't care that we're underage as long as we tip. The only problem with the bar is if anything touches the floor, it needs to be heavily sanitized.
"Yes, I did," I respond before taking a sip from my drink and standing at the line.
"What were you thinking?"
McKenzie and I have been friends since we were babies, having grown up in houses just down the street from each other. Life has given us different paths though. She is content with this small town. Already married with one child at home, she never plans on leaving.
It breaks my heart. Out of everyone I know, she would be the first I would pack in my bag and take with me. But it wouldn't work. She would just as quickly sneak her way back to this tiny little nothing of a town.
"Is this really about the job?" I ask, turning to study her.
I know what she is really trying to say, but I am tired of people beating around the bush. If they want to tell me what they really feel, they should speak up. I'm not a mind reader, and I'm tired of the sad eyes and contorted expressions.
After a deep sigh and a look of remorse, McKenzie begins, "You've spent your entire life trying to get out of here, which I still don't understand."
"It's the small-town feel. I need to find something different—or at least a place away from Josh."
I know that it will be hard to give up everything, but it is necessary for my own survival. I despise this town. There are no jobs, and running into my ex every few days at the coffee shop is slowly eating my soul.
"Then why did you apply for that job?" McKenzie finishes, "It's in a town even smaller than this."
Focusing on the target, I throw the darts as I get my thoughts in order. I know why I chose that job, a non-profit committed to protecting the environment, with satellite sites throughout the world. It's an obvious choice for a girl who wants to travel. Plus, the pay and amazing benefits make it a worthwhile choice.
"Addie?" McKenzie asks after my last dart bounces from the board and lands near my feet.
"It isn't so much the small town that I hate," I lie. "Plus, I wouldn't be there for long. This is the corporate headquarters, and from what I was told, they are constantly moving people to every other location in the country. I could settle in Chicago—I would be close enough for you to visit—or Seattle, or D.C., or even Florida. You could visit, and we could spend the entire time on the beach."
McKenzie stares out the corner of her eye while shaking her head before grabbing the darts. Three shots fly straight to the middle of the board, letting me know that McKenzie is not happy with my answer.
"I know what it is," McKenzie begins as she joins me at the table, "You want to move but are still afraid of the big, bad city."
"I am not."
The lie would convince just about anyone else. What can I say? I've spent so much of my life in a town with a population of less than ten thousand. The idea of moving to a city where that might be equivalent to the population of a few blocks is much more than I can handle. Baby steps. If I'm not ready to dive into the deep end, I can at least submerge a toe.
"I think it's time for shots."
"Good way to avoid the topic," McKenzie grumbles and slams the tequila, "but you're still not off the hook. When do you think you will hear back about the interview?"
McKenzie passes me the second shot. My body shudders from the combination. This is going to be a birthday to remember.
#
The afternoon sun blazes through the window as muffled club music plays under the pillow. A birthday to remember. More like a birthday already forgotten. What happened after that second shot? My hands scratch at the sheets, searching for my discarded phone. The throbbing in my head convinces me that the unfamiliar number shouldn't go to voice mail.
"Is Ms. Stevens there?" A polite woman asks.
"I'm Ms. Stevens," I answer, trying to sound as if I haven't just woken up from drunken oblivion.
"Good, this is Marie." She pauses.
"Oh yes, Marie," I state, not knowing a Marie. I barely remember my name after last night.
"All of us have been thrilled with your resume and recent string of phone interviews. We are down to two candidates for the position and were hoping to set up an in-person interview."
With giddy joy, I jump on the bed. "Yes, that sounds great."
"Good, we would like to have both candidates interview next week. We're hoping to have a decision and a start date at the beginning of July. Would it be possible to schedule the interview today?"
"Of course," I answer, falling to the mattress, my stomach flipping from either the phone call or the alcohol.