Page 42 of Already Falling

Hi, I am so sorry, an emergency came up. Can I reschedule you for tomorrow? Same time?

Client

Oh no worries. I hope everything is good, and sorry tomorrow doesn’t work. I think I’m just going to reuse my old headshots. Thanks

Annika

Of course. I’d be happy to give you a 30% discount, let me know if you change your mind.

I can’t afford to give the discount, but I also can’t afford to pass up this freelance work. Especially if I want to get my own place. I brought the idea up to Chloe two nights ago, and she nearly broke down in tears. She said she couldn’t function if I was not sleeping at least ten feet away from her. And she calls me dramatic.

I finish up the outline and head out of the office. The entire place is dark except for my cubicle. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending like I enjoy my life. I’m so young, and yet I feel like my routine is aging me ten years. I need a change. I start crying while I drive home and don’t stop until I’m home sitting at my desk. Wiping my tears away, I fling open my laptop and panic apply for jobs. This time, no marketing jobs. I am admitting to myself that I hate it. I hate the major I picked for myself. I hate that I feel guilty that I spent this money on an education I don’t want to use, but I can’t let it tear me down. I apply for photographer jobs, vintage shop curator jobs, and anything that sounds the slightest bit interesting. I even apply at a local tattoo parlor.

It’s nearly midnight, and I think I’ve applied to twenty applications. I’m so exhausted. Mentally and physically drained. I don’t even remember when I managed to take a shower and put on pajamas, but now I’m crawling into bed. I hope I sleep through my alarm and don’t wake up until Saturday. I don’t know how many more days I can take it before I just walk out of my job without any sort of backup plan.

TWENTY-TWO

ANNIKA

I manage to peel myself out of bed after my mental breakdown and frantic job-hunting the night before. I manage to put on a content face on as I walk into work and sit through the client proposal meeting. As I watch my manager present my outline that I slaved three hours of my time after work to finish. I manage not to combust when the wetsuit company says they can’t afford our budget and backs out. I manage to repeat my routine through the next day through the next week.

Midday Thursday, I get pinched awake in the form of an email in my inbox.

Subject: Interview for Film Photographer Position

I nearly fall out of my chair and reread the subject line five times before opening the email. I got an interview. I seriously doubted anything was going to come out of those twenty applications, and yet here is one. A local photo studio that specializes in event photography is looking for a film photographer. This couldn’t be any more perfect. I crouch around my phone at my desk and send off a response scheduling an interview for the next morning.

~one week later~

My morning routine is muscle memory now. Get up, do yoga in my room, shower, blow dry my hair pin-straight, fluff it off to the side, apply eyeliner, and eat a breakfast wrap on the way to the office. Today, I decided to check some emails while blow-drying my hair. I’ve been frantically checking it ever since my first interview. I’ve had a few more since, and they all seem promising, but I can’t tell if I made enough of an impression to get a job offer. I can’t stop trying. I need to pick myself up out of this depressing hole. I swipe through some emails, noticing a few stores are having a sale. Very tempting, but I should probably not get anything as I’m on a savings spree. I nearly dropped my blow dryer at the subject line of one email that is different from the rest.

Subject: Position Offer Letter: Film Photographer

I can’t believe it. I got offered the job. Out of all of them, this was the one I was most excited about. I would make slightly less than I do now, but I would work fewer hours and could still take on my own clients. I read the email as I get ready for work, screaming and dancing around my room. I can’t believe it. I did it. I read the offer and am pleased with their terms. Fuck it. I chuck the blow dryer under my sink and scurry to my desk, flinging open my laptop to read over the offer letter one more time. I sign and send it back to the hiring manager.

I feel like the weight that’s been draped around my shoulders has suddenly disappeared. I blast some pop music and dance around my room like a wild woman. I jump on my bed like a little kid and sing into my hairbrush. I don’t remember the last time I felt so free. I definitely didn’t feel this way when I was hired for the marketing job. That was a different relief. Like, oh good, I can pay my student loans. This relief feels like freedom.

My phone starts buzzing, and I recognize it as the hiring manager’s number. She must have received my acceptance reply. Hopefully, everything is all right. I turn down the music and hold my breath as I answer.

“Hi, this is Annika.”

“Hi, Annika! We are so excited you decided to accept our offer! I wanted to just call to go over a few logistics over the phone.”

“Of course! I’m thrilled to start.”

“Yes, about that. When are you planning to relocate to Oregon? We can determine your start date depending on when you are settled.”

I pause my excited movements as my heart drops. Relocate? I fly open my mail app and read the offer letter again. Everything looks normal until…the address of the studio is in Oregon. Where the fuck is Auburn Hills? How did I miss this? How was this not brought up during the interview?

“Annika, are you still there?”

“Hi, yah. I am sorry, I guess I overlooked the location of your studio.”

“Oh….are you not planning to relocate? We assumed you were moving up here when you applied.”

“I wasn’t planning to move, no, but….”

“How about you give it a day or two and get back to us? We love your work and would love to have you as part of our studio. Let me know what your decision is, and we can go from there.”