The Bottom of the Sea

Part 10: New Job Jitters

The picture spooked me; I'll admit it. Seeing that crudely drawn woman in my bedroom window sent a jolt of ice through my blood. Even through the eyes of the child, it was the same woman. I never told a soul about what I'd seen. How could Simon know about that?

I risked my life and my safety to come to this place, and still, I felt no peace. I constantly looked over my shoulder for Shane to somehow find me. Over the past few weeks, a new fear began to take hold. I worried that if I wasn't careful, my grip on reality would loosen and I'd fly apart at the seams. What was happening to me?

I had to make things work in Locke's Harbour, I had nowhere else to go. I tried to keep a sense of desperation from overwhelming me. I had no one else to rely on, there was only me. If I couldn't make things work there, where would I go?

I debated confronting Missy about the picture or trying to discreetly talk to Simon about it. I grabbed my mat and headed across the street for outdoor yoga to take my mind off things instead. Stealing glances at the house while I stretched and got into the poses, I tried to free myself of my worries and concentrate on my body, my breathing. By the end of it, I wasn't completely relaxed, but stretching out into the familiar poses as the sun set made me feel better.

I opened the door to the house and set the alarm before heading upstairs to the bathroom. I showered quickly, my mind on the strange events. It wasn't until I was out of the shower with my hair wrapped in a towel when I felt it.

Nothing.

I wandered into the small hallway, and back and forth between the two bedrooms. I couldn't feel anything — or anyone. Where the space once seemed crowded, it now felt empty. It was as though a houseful of unwanted guests had just left. The air in the rooms felt lighter; less heavy. For the first time since I'd gotten there, I felt truly alone.

The events of the day and the hot shower wore me out, and I was soon ready for bed. Tucked under the covers, I felt myself relax for the first time in days.

In my romance novel, the billionaire jerk was starting to realize his love for the virginal secretary and was planning a grand gesture to propose. Get your shit together, that would be a grand gesture. I wondered why romantic leading men who clearly had anger issues never went into therapy to became better people in these novels. I supposed that was a bit too much reality to go with the fantasy.

Before I knew it, I was snoozing with the paperback on my chest. Barely opening my eyes, I reached up to snap off the lamp, rolled over and fell into a dreamless sleep.

The next day was uneventful. I had enough to worry about with Monday approaching, and with it my first day on the new job. I was wracked with anxiety about it. Speaking of jerks.

He was no billionaire, but my new boss certainly gave off plenty of angry vibes. I dreaded having to face him again after my humiliating first impression. As a rainy Sunday afternoon fell into evening, the dread in my belly intensified, along with the low-key nausea that came and went. I was crazy to go back there after what happened, but the same problem reared its ugly head — I wanted nothing to connect me back to Alberta, so I couldn't use any of my references from my previous jobs. There was a job on the table that was mine for the taking and my money was running out.

I tossed and turned that night, but not because of any weird vibe in the rooms upstairs. It was straight up terror of a different kind — new job jitters.

Would I ever get to a point in my life where I wasn't afraid all the time? I wasn't one to wallow in self-pity, but I did wonder if I broke a mirror somewhere along the way in life. Maybe several.

When I woke up the next morning, I felt tired and uneasy. I let the hot shower spray me in the face, hoping to blast the dream from my mind. I scrubbed myself with a pretty, floral soap followed by an organic body scrub I'd picked up in town. Wanting to make a good impression, I shaved my legs, although I was pretty sure that my new boss wouldn't notice or care about a half a millimeter of stubble on my calves.