[private]It was really very simple. I stopped and actually spoke to the receptionist this morning, instead of the usual mumbled “Morning” in passing. I made small talk, and later asked if she could bring a couple of boxes to my office. She agreed, and within ten minutes I had two empty boxes (with lids, no less). I started taking things off the walls, and clearing out my desk, and the more I put in my boxes, the more excited I became. Before too long, my secretary Alicia had come to the door to ask what was going on. I smiled and told her that I was quitting. She looked at me like I had lost my natural mind. I continued to smile and pack. By the time I was finished, my boss was in my office with the door closed. The conversation went a little something like this:

Him: “What the hell is going on Trisha? Why are you packing?”  Rick Anderson was never big on small talk.

Me: “It’s time for me to leave Rick, and I just figured that out this morning.”

Him: “What are you talking about? Time for you to leave? Is this a PMS thing or something?”

Me: (Laughing at his red face and the silliness of the question). “No, it is just time. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days doing this. I want to do something that is fulfilling and feeds my soul. This is not it. It was fun while it lasted, but it’s time to move on.”

Him: “Feeds your soul? What kind of bullshit is that? Does this have anything to do with all that Buddhist stuff you’ve been reading? Or those Tai Chi and Yoga classes you’ve been taking? Maybe you need to see your doctor! I can’t believe you are walking out on your career on a whim. What am I missing?”

Me: (Brushing past him with one box in hand) “I’m taking these to my car, and then I’m coming back for the rest. I’ll make sure that HR gets my badge, keys, and parking pass. Good luck, and I hope you consider Janice as my replacement. She knows this company inside and out. She loves this place, and will fill my shoes with no problem. I’ll send you a Christmas card. Take care, and tell your wife that I said ‘hello’”.

With that, I made my grand exit. Head was held high, and there was a smile on my face. I could hear the whispering on my second trip out the door. I know that I overheard the term “stressed out” at least three times. What else were they going to say? No one would believe a sane woman capable of quitting her job on a whim. 

It’s hard being the Golden Child. After thirty-eight years of over-achieving to meet the expectations of everyone else, I am ready to live for myself. I know people will want to know why Ieft. I can’t put it into words. For the last two years, I’ve been feeling like I am supposed to be doing something else. ANYTHING ELSE. As long as it involves writing. Yes, I had been a closet writer for years, but that was no longer enough. I knew that if I didn’t do something drastic, I would always wonder what could have been. And this morning was the day.

So now, I’m sitting at home, and my phone is ringing off the hook. I am turning the ringer off so that I can have some peace. I know that my mother is going to go ballistic, my girlfriends will be ready to call a shrink, and my daughter, well, who knows what a fifteen year old is going to say from one minute to the next. As for me, my heart is racing, I’m sweating like a pig, and I can’t catch my breath. Shit, I think I’m having a panic attack.

_______________________________________________________________________

Thirty minutes and a cool shower later, and all is calm, including me. I’m not even rattled while going over my financial records.

I hear Chris’s keys jingling as she comes through the front door. Her dad’s in tow. Now this is a bit unexpected. I hope he isn’t planning on staying for dinner.

“Hey Chris”

“Hey Mommy” (yeah, she still calls me Mommy). “How come your hair is all wet?” she asks as she leans in to kiss me on the cheek after striding across the room like a gazelle.

“Oh, well, I came home early today. I got a little heated, and decided to take a shower to cool off. Hey Darin, how are things with you?”

“It’s good Trish, I just stopped in to pick up the cheerleading pictures that Chris promised me last week.” He is seating himself at the table, as if he plans to be here for a minute. UGH. I am so not feeling this.

“What’s all this stuff?” Darin asks, while pointing to the statements from my various accounts that are laid out across the table.

“Nothing- just doing a financial assessment. It’s always good to have a general picture about this stuff. You know how obsessive I can be about keeping my accounts balanced.”  Darin raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything.

With that, I scoop the papers up, shove them back into the folder, walk to the counter, and place them in the “junk” drawer for later. In the meantime, I turn on the television to catch the evening news.

“Chris, I ordered Chinese for dinner, and it should be here any minute now.” I yell, just before the doorbell rings. I trot down the hall, wallet in hand, to pay the delivery guy. By the time I get back into the kitchen with the large bag of food, Darin and Chris are staring a picture of me on the news. I hear the announcer say “in an unconfirmed report, Eyewitness News has learned that Trisha St. Claire has stepped down as Vice President of technology acquisitions for SouthCoast Technology, Inc. No reasons were given at the time of her departure. It was stated that Ms. St. Claire went into the office this morning, removed all of her personal effects, and said nothing more than she quit. CEO Rick Anderson has not been available for comment.”

Shit! It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. Why would anyone call the local station to report something like this? Since when did I become news worthy?

Dropping the bag on the table, I grab for the remote to turn the TV off just as the announcer begins to run down my curriculum vitae, especially my work in the community. Of course, there is silence as Darin and his mini-me turn to face me.

At that point, my cell phone starts to go off. I forgot that I turned it back on when I got out of the shower. Fuck! Nothing to do but answer it. I know that my mother’s friends are probably burning up the wires trying to get the news to her. As a matter of fact, it’s probably her on the phone. I sit at the table before I flip the phone open. I know that the Bitch Brigade will be here within the next twenty minutes or so. I wonder if I will have time to eat?

_______________________________________________________________________

“OK, if you all will just be quiet and let me speak, I’ll tell you what happened.” I am trying to still the voices of my two best friends, my mother, and of course, Frick and Frack (Darin and Chris).

“Baby, have you lost your mind?” This is my mother, the consummate diplomat speaking. “Why have you left your perfectly good job on a hum bug?” (We’re southern, get over the idioms.)

“Mama, if you just give me a minute….”

“It is going to take more than a minute for you to explain why the future CEO of SCT decided to flush her career down the toilet on this sunny May day.” That would be Sandy Sanderson (yes, her parents really did that to her).

And just so that she is not outdone, Sheryl, my creative, crazy, and flamboyant neighbor makes her presence known. “I know you have a good reason girl. You don’t take a shit without putting it on your to do list, so I can’t wait to hear this.”

I’m standing here in the middle of my den waiting for everyone to just shut up. They do when they realize that I am not going to speak until I have complete silence.

“First of all, let me say that I am really sorry that you guys heard about my quitting this way. I didn’t think that it would matter to anyone but my child, and me but I was planning to tell you tomorrow. I was going to invite you over for a big lunch and break the news to you.”

“Look Trish, I did not come over here to hear your high fallutin’ speeches. Just give it to me straight girl. Why the hell did you leave your good job? Do you know how many black folks had to march on Washington and around the south so that you could get that good job?” That’s my mother’s answer to everything- the Civil Rights Movement. They are not going to make this easy.

“Mama, I quit because I had to. I couldn’t take it another minute. I have been feeling like I should be doing something else with my life for a while now, and today; I knew that I could not wait any longer. Time is passing me by and when I die I want to know that I lived life on my own terms.”

“Lawd, this woman really has lost her mind,” my mother says to everyone else in the room. “What do you mean you want to live life on your own terms? A house on a hill, private school for your child, vacations when and where you want. Explain to me how it is you ain’t living life on your own terms?”

“Your mother has a point.” Sandy is always taking her side. The suck up. “You aren’t making much sense right now. You have everything you could possibly want or need, why would you leave your job?”

“First of all, since none of all ya’ll pay my bills, I really don’t owe any of you an explanation. But, since I know that you are concerned about me, I’ll try to explain it in a way that makes sense for you. But I am asking that you not see this through your eyes, but mine. If you can’t do that, then there is no need for me to continue.”

I am being met with silence, and that’s a good thing. I take a deep breath and start.

“All my life, I’ve done what everyone expected me to do…”

“Is this a revamping of a scene from The Color Purple? I’ve seen that movie too many times, so I know the lines by heart. You need to get to the point.”

“Mama, I swear, if you can’t just listen, then you can leave, and get the story updates from the local news.”

My mother rolls her eyes at me, but she doesn’t say anything else.

“It just feels like I’m supposed to be doing something more, something creative, something that is an expression of who I truly am. Today was simply the day. By the time I got to the office, I knew that it would be the last time I walked in there as an employee. “

“Mom, what are we going to do for money?” Leave it to Chris to cut to the chase.

“We’re ok. Let me worry about that. Just know that your dad and I will always take care of you- until you graduate from college and get a job of your own- then my work is done.” I laugh to take the edge off, but no one else joins me.

“Do you have a job in mind Trish, or is flying by the seat of your pants the new you?” Darin asks, with a smirk on his face. I bet he just loves this whole scene. I’m sure he’s thinking that Little Miss Perfect has finally cracked. The jerk.

“Actually, yeah. I do have something in mind. I plan to finally sit down and write that book I’ve been talking about for years.”

“Awww, Lawd, this child has really lost it.” I don’t have to tell you who that was.

“Girl, what you need to be doing is figuring out how you are going to replace that big ass check- excuse me Ms. Dennis. They don’t call them starving artists for nothing.” Sandy is looking mortified. It is beyond her comprehension that someone would actually choose not to make a lot of money. “You know I’ve been saying that you should start your own business, and I’m all for that, but writing. Unh, unh. Do you know what the odds are of you even getting noticed, let alone picked up by a major publishing company? Girl, go play the lottery instead. That’s all I’m going to say.”

“Leave her alone Sandy. This is her decision- not yours.” I smile at Sheryl, grateful for the support.

What else is there to say? Sheryl is ok with just about anything that I do- she was brought up by hippie parents who gave her the cultural education of a lifetime. After years of floating around the country,they  actually ended up living in a condo on the Isle of Palms. Instead of going into medicine like the rest of the his family members (male and female), Sheryl’s father got a history degree from Howard, met the woman of his dreams, and decided to see the Real America, as he put it. His family gave him his trust fund just to keep him out of their hair. The Hippie (which is what Sheryl actually calls her dad) invested well over the years (how ironic). Sandy, on the other hand, is the queen of conservatism, and if it doesn’t fit the American Dream ideal, then she does not want anything to do with it. We grew up on the same street, going to the same schools, and traveling in the same circles. She knew me better than anyone, and vice versa. To say that her mind cannot wrap around my decision is an understatement. Darin is getting a good laugh out of this whole thing, so it’s just entertainment in his eyes. But my mother, well let’s just say that Cynthia Dennis could beat an issue into the ground until you just gave up and did things her way, or you got so angry you found yourself not talking to her for extended periods of time. Chris simply inches closer to me- her unspoken words of support- I think. Of course, this is also what she does when she is nervous or in a situation where she is not sure of herself.

“Look, the decision is mine to make. Thanks for your input, but it’s already done, and there is no going back.”

And right now, that is the only thing that I am sure of.[/private]