He Tested Me With Prenup I Left Him With Regret Chapter 33
The following spring, I was promoted to head of the museum’s digital archives department.
On my desk that first day sat two drawings.
One was of the library from many years ago.
The other was of the doors of the Chicago History Museum.
There were no unopened letters beside them.
No cashier’s checks.
No agreement waiting for me to prove my innocence.
That afternoon, I went to a local university to give a talk.
Someone in the audience asked, “If you had the chance to do it over, would you have left sooner?”
I thought for a moment.
“Yes.”
“Do you regret the four years you lost?”
Sunlight from outside fell across the podium.
Of course I had regretted it once.
I regretted missing the exam.
I regretted the two deferrals.
I regretted mistaking humiliation after humiliation for the price of being accepted into a family.
But I no longer let regret give those people any more of my time.
“I will never be grateful for harm,” I said.
“But I am grateful to the version of myself who finally pressed confirm, got on the plane, and learned how to say no.”
After the talk, I walked out of the campus alone.
The wind off the lake moved through the street, carrying the cool edge of early spring.
There were no missed calls from Charleston on my phone.
Lucy had sent me a message asking if I wanted to go see the new public library with her that weekend.
I replied with a simple yes.
Then I put my phone away and walked toward the L station.
Many years ago, I walked out of a house that was never mine with only two suitcases and one cardboard box.
What I have now still isn’t Holloway property.
Or Holloway shares.
Or the Holloway name.
What I have is my own work.
My own home.
My own name.
And a life that no longer requires anyone’s permission.
This time, it belongs wholly to me.
The End