Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
The line rings once, then twice. I shift the phone between my hands, practicing what I’m going to say, reminding myself to be calm and confident. He holds nothing over me anymore—no truths, secrets, or power. Nothing.
My heart lurches at the sound of his recorded voice instructing me to leave a message. I sag against my bookshelf in relief that he didn’t answer and hang up before the beep.
“Look at you,” I say to the empty room. “You’re all bold and brave in public, but a big baby in private.”
I clutch the phone to my chest and take a deep breath. Before I can overthink things or get stuck in a bad place, I pull up the tab with the attorney’s information that Audrey sent this morning and place a call. As it rings, I wonder what my friends would say if they could see me now—sweaty and anxious over calling my ex-boyfriend. This certainly isn’t the Astrid they know.
“Good morning,” a cheerful voice says, answering the phone. “Thank you for calling Dixon Legal Group. This is Wanda. How may I assist you?”
“Hi, Wanda. My name is Astrid Lawsen,” I say, clearing my throat. “I was referred to you by my friend Audrey Van.”
“What can we do for you, Ms. Lawsen?”
“I received a letter from an attorney a couple of days ago regarding unpaid rent, utilities, and damages to an apartment that I lived in with a former boyfriend. They’re threatening to sue me, but the rental agreement was never in my name, and I moved out of there years ago. I’m not sure what I should do.”
“Okay, Ms. Lawsen. I can get you in for a free consultation with Dennis Dixon next Thursday at two thirty. Does that work for you?”
The word free is music to my ears. “That works. Absolutely.”
“Let me get a bit of information from you.”
“Sure.”
I answer a few basic questions and agree to email her office the letter I received. It’s the most painless thing I’ve done in a while. I end the call and feel a sense of relief, but also of being supported—of not fighting this alone—and I’m not sure which feeling is better.
I tap out a text to the group chat to let Audrey know I made the call.
Me: I got an appointment, Aud. You’re the best.
Audrey: Yay! I met Dennis Dixon at a fundraiser last year, and he was super sharp. If he’ll take you on, he’ll do a great job.
Me: Well, I didn’t talk to him. I do that next week. But his assistant was a doll.
Gianna: A doll? Are you talking about me again? Kidding. Glad you got an appointment, Astrid. Check your email. I sent you the question for the column.
Audrey: So I don’t get to know the question? Rude.
Gianna: The question is essentially this … A woman wrote that she’s in a relationship with her guy and she loves him, but she also loves other men flirting with her. She wants to know if it’s cheating or if it means she doesn’t love her guy to the depths of her soul.
Me: I’m getting paid to answer this?
Audrey: Oooh. That’s a tough one. I’d need more context before I could form an opinion.
I wander out to the living room and flop down on the sofa. My friends go back and forth on their first instincts about how they’d form their replies. I don’t chime in. Instead, I consider it quietly.
There are so many ways to think about this. I don’t know that it’s cheating, exactly, but it’s undoubtedly not an indication of a strong relationship. Or is it? Is she just being honest?
Audrey: What are you thinking, Astrid?
Me: I don’t know. Now that I have the pressure of answering it to the person instead of just spewing my thoughts, it’s not as easy as I imagined.
Gianna: You have a few weeks until it’s due, honey bun. Let me know if you have any questions.
Audrey: Let me know if you need to brainstorm. It’s one of my favorite pastimes.
Gianna: Mine is giving head.
Audrey: GIANNA BARDOT.
I laugh, imagining Audrey’s face as she reads Gianna’s message.
Gianna: I gotta go. Love you guys.
Audrey: Love you. Be good.
Gianna: Don’t take away all of my fun.
Me: xo
I open my email and find Gianna’s message. The question is there, in full, along with the due date and a legal blurb about terms and payment. It’s straightforward enough.
A bubble of excitement swells in my stomach, growing larger with each passing second. My mind races with possibilities about how to approach this topic. There are so many angles to take, so many ways to look at it, that it gets my creative juices flowing. I remember feeling this way when I sat down with a pen and paper when I was a kid—for a while, anyway.
“What the hell do you have?” Dad sneers, ripping the small notebook out of my hands. His breath is hot and smells faintly like rubbing alcohol as he leans over me. “A journal? Where’d you get this?”