“What am I doing?” I ask my reflection. She stubbornly provides no answers.
Closing my eyes, I tilt my chin to the ceiling. Why does it feel like at the moment of victory, the world is crashing down on me?
You know why, says a little voice inside my head.
I shake my head hard, dispelling the tears that have formed. They trickle down my cheeks, cutting a stinging path.
I don’t want this. The job. Or big law life.
The realization has been creeping up on me for weeks, poking and prodding at the edge of my consciousness, but I’ve been fighting it. How many years have I felt depleted to the bone from simply existing? From the moment I wake up to the second my eyes close in uneasy sleep, I’m thinking about the job—obsessing about what I could do better or differently. And what has it given me? Clinical anxiety and permanent frown lines. Every Sunday night before I drift off to sleep, tears threaten to flood my cheeks because I dread waking up on Monday morning. What kind of life is that?
My climb to the top of the legal profession has defined me for so long that somehow I’ve lost myself along the way, unable to focus on anything but that one singular goal. Until recently, all I saw when I looked in the mirror was that picture-perfect definition of success—the one my professors, family, and classmates convinced me I wanted. But when was the last time I felt truly happy?
An image of Blooms & Baubles floats into my mind. Not that I want to be a florist—I don’t—but I’ve never been so happy as I have working to save Perry’s business. I’ve thrived putting my training and intuition to work for a goal that’s poised to make a real, tangible difference to the community. Helping Perry plan this festival to save Blooms & Baubles these past few weeks has finally cracked the illusion of my life. There’s more to me than a pile of law books and a windowless office. I get to choose what makes me happy—who I want to be.
So, if I’m not Cass Walker, up-and-coming lawyer at a big-time firm… who am I? Setting my jaw, I stare hard at my reflection.
How about… Cass Walker, the person who uses her law degree to help people—to help communities? Cass Walker, who fights against self-serving corporate interests and advocates for those who actually need it? How about Cass Walker, painter? Cass Walker, Sunday brunch eater and family visitor and friend?
I don’t need a job at Smith & Boone to find career success, achieve financial security, or live my best life. In fact, I know that accepting this job offer will bring me nothing but anxiety and regret.
I have to turn it down.
Suddenly, the roiling nausea in my gut is gone. My chest feels light and airy like it hasn’t since… since I started painting again. A laugh bursts out of me. So this is what it feels like when you take charge of your own life.
Tearing off a paper towel from the roll sitting on the sink, I swipe the tears from my cheeks. Studying my reflection, I tug the bobby pins out of my hair and take down my bun. Rogue Curl is just long enough now so it doesn’t stick straight out anymore, although it still protrudes slightly compared with the rest of my curls.
I don’t care. Rogue Curl isn’t perfect, and neither am I. And that’s okay.
Wetting my lips, I open the door and turn out the light. Time to claim my future… the one I actually want.
* * *
The moment I step onto the sidewalk outside of Blooms & Baubles, someone shouts my name. My heart leaps. I’d know that voice anywhere—it’s Perry’s.
He’s standing several yards away at the corner of Providence and Twenty-Eighth Street. Our eyes meet, and we walk toward each other as though connected by an invisible string. We meet in the middle, directly beneath my mural. His hair is windswept and his shoulders tense as he looks me over.
“Are you okay? I saw you walk past the booth earlier and you looked upset.”
I grasp his forearms. “I’m fine. Everything’s great, in fact. Smith & Boone offered me a permanent job.”
His lips part in surprise. “Wow, Cass, that’s great news. Congratula—”
“I’ve decided to turn it down.”
“Hold up. What are you talking about?”
“Next week when they deliver the formal written offer, I’m going to decline it. Which means when my summer associateship ends, I’ll be unemployed… but that’s okay! There is a whole world of possibility out there. I still have my license to practice law, and I’m going to do something meaningful with it.”
“But… I thought working for Smith & Boone is what you’ve always wanted?”