Page 14 of Unconventionally, Elle
Now
I went straight home after leaving Mr. Landry's office. I called the girls as promised, and after our three-hour conversation, Rachel texted me.
Rach:I'm coming.
Me:WTF, when?
Rach:Tonight
Me:Shit, okay, you're sure? I think I'm okay. I can't really explain it, but I feel free, ya know?
Rach:I know you're okay. You're strong as hell, Ellz. I'm just a little worried about you, you just changed your life in a matter of minutes this morning. I want to be there for you and support you, even if it's watching Sex and the City from episode one or Gilmore Girls after Rory goes back to Yale. I guess what I'm saying is you don't have to be alone.
Me:Fiiiine. But my house is a mess, and you'll see everything is totally and completely fine. Pizza or Chinese??
Rach:Is that even a question? Shrimp fried rice, spring rolls, gyoza. Get the goods.
Me:You got it! Keep me posted on your flight info so I can come get you, k? xo
Rach:Definitely. I'll book in the next few minutes and send you the itinerary. xo
Rach booked the next flight out on Southwest. Ever since the pandemic started, her boss had been more lenient with her working remotely, so I wasn't surprised she grabbed her laptop and found a last-minute flight to New Orleans.
In college, if one of us had a shit show of a situation, the other was there. One time, a guy and I broke up the day before Valentine's Day, so she showed up with theSex and the CityDVD collection and a pint of ice cream. Sarah joined us later, around episode five, because of an art project she had to turn in to her professor. I knew I wasn't alone, but when my best friends lived states away, loneliness crept into my mind more often than I'd like to admit. I didn't expect either of them to come to New Orleans after I quit, but when Rach sent me her itinerary, I felt a glimmer of hope that everything would be okay. Sarah couldn't leave the kids since James was on a work trip, but she'd be with us in spirit.
Rachel's flight came into New Orleans around seven thirty, and I was waiting at arrivals in joggers and my favorite oversized Taylor Swift T-shirt.
As soon as she walked out of the airport and saw me waiting by the car, she jumped and squealed in delight. She ran over to me, dropped her backpack, and threw her arms around my neck.
"Holy shit, you look like hell." She squeezed a little tighter, then let go.
"What? It's comfortable." I saw her exaggerated eye roll as I reached for her bag. She was right, though. This outfit wasn't my usual business casual and might have qualified for a midlife crisis.
The ride home was quick and easy on I-10. We pulled into my building's secured parking only twenty minutes later, doing our best not to hit any wandering Bourbon Street pedestrians. The music was already echoing through the French Quarter, and obnoxious yelling irked my overstimulated mind.
Rach followed me through my front door and dropped her bag in the entryway as she lifted her chin to gaze at my fourteen-foot ceilings and oversized crown molding. The living room was separated from my bedroom with enormous double doors, and my kitchen was tucked neatly in a corner, next to my back porch.
"Elle, I know for years you've talked about leaving this place, but damn, I love your apartment. It's a Monday night, and look how packed Bourbon was as we drove up."
I glanced at my floor-to-ceiling windows, which opened onto my balcony overlooking Conti and Bourbon Streets. "Yeah, I guess." I shrugged nonchalantly. "I do love my high ceilings."
"You live in the French Quarter, and all you can say is I love my high ceilings? Jesus, Elle." She shook her head as she picked up her bag and walked through the doorway to my bedroom suite. She tossed her bag onto the left side of the bed and kicked off her shoes.
"You know, I..." She trailed off as she turned around and noticed I was silently sobbing in the living room, staring outside at the empty balcony. Only my ferns were enjoying the view the French Quarter had to offer.
"Whoa, Elle. Wait, what's happened?" She scurried over to my side and lightly put her hand on my forearm. "Well, I meanother than the obvious, of course." She chuckled and squeezed my arm gently.
I looked up, trying not to cry, but I couldn't stop the tears from falling. Frustrated, I used my fist to wipe my face and snuffled. "I just hate this place, Rach. I just fucking hate it here." I opened my arms and sobbed. "The humidity, the memories, everything." I stopped to wipe my cheeks again, this time with my sleeve. "I'm suffocating here, Rach. And I don't know what I'm doing. I was so confident--I mean, I am confident that quitting was the best thing."
She grasped my hands and held them firmly. "No, it definitely was, I promise."
"Then why do I feel so empty? I was fine. Everything was fine after I left. And now, it's like the realization is hitting me and I can't breathe." I gasped for air, and Rach guided me to the couch to sit down with my head between my knees.
"Deep breaths, Elle. Deep breaths." She placed a hand on my back and rubbed in slow circles.
"I... I don't know. I just feel so many things right now. I can't process. I failed, Rach. I fucking failed." I was being crushed with emotion, and I began to breathe faster and heavier.
"Elle, you did not fail. Listen to me. Breathe. You need to breathe. I'm right here. You did not fail, you hear me? Elle, tell me you hear me." She shook my arm until I looked up at her.
