An hour later, we arrived at the shopping center called “West Mall.” I love this place. It’s not over-the-top fancy, but everything is modern and cozy. You can buy stuff without breaking the bank, grab a tasty bite to eat, and just have a good time.
It’s only a few blocks from our place, so we decided to walk. The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight, but it wasn’t too hot either.
By the time we got there, I was fully awake, and my mood had improved a lot. Maybe this really was a good idea after all.
We spent about four hours browsing the stores, but it was productive. Tasha was walking around with a satisfied grin, arms full of shopping bags, and I couldn’t resist either—I picked up a few T-shirts and an absolutely stunning light blue dress. I have no idea where I’ll wear it, but I definitely don’t regret spending the money.
I managed to convince Tasha to cancel our spa appointment, so all we had left on our list was the salon. I could definitely use a little trim on my hair ends and a fresh manicure. But before that, we absolutely had to grab lunch.
“Let’s sit here,” I said to Tasha. “I’ve been wanting to try their food for a while.”
“I’m fine with that. At this point, I don’t care where we go as long as they bring food fast.”
We settled at a corner table in a café-restaurant called “Alexandria.” The interior was impressive. Light walls with decorative plaster, dark velvet sofas, oak tables, and bold modern-style light fixtures all came together to create an unforgettable vibe. I suspected the prices would match the upscale look, but I was pleasantly surprised. Everything was reasonable, and as we later found out, the food was insanely good. I’m definitely coming back here.
“I see you’re not mad anymore that I dragged you out of bed,” Tasha said with a smirk.
“I’m still tired, but I’ll admit—I’m glad you forced me to come. Tomorrow at work, I might feel differently and kick myself for not spending the day resting at home, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.”
“You can’t keep working this much. I get that you’re trying to save money, but you’re running yourself into the ground. And that awful boss of yours, Ed, totally takes advantage of it, dumping his responsibilities on you.”
Yeah, Ed is the fly in the ointment of my otherwise decent job. He’s a thirty-five-year-old bachelor with a beer belly who thinks he’s some kind of playboy. The team at work is great, but this senior manager, who’s my direct supervisor, is a real jerk. When I first started, he tried hitting on me, and I politely turned him down. That clearly bruised his ego, and he’s been making my life miserable ever since. Ed genuinely couldn’t fathom how anyone could reject someone as “handsome” and “sexy” as him, so he’s held a grudge.
I know how to put him in his place, but I can’t openly fight with him—I need this job. And he knows he won’t find a replacement who’ll do as much as I do. So, we work together in this weird state of “cold war.”
“Don’t start. You know there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t find another job with this kind of pay right now. No point bringing it up again.”
“Yeah, sorry. But it just makes me so mad. You’re a young woman; you should be going on dates and hitting up parties. Instead, you barely come to a bar with me once a month, if I’m lucky, and that’s it. Otherwise, it’s just work, home, binge-watching shows, or reading books. And if it’s not that, you’re off at your dance classes. You can’t keep going like this—your whole youth will slip by before you even blink.”
My dance classes are another thing that keeps me sane while I save up. I work part-time at the school run by my college professor. There, I teach a group of women aged 18 to 25, helping them connect with their bodies through dance, feel sexy and feminine. My group is small, but more people are getting interested. I can’t take everyone on because the school’s main focus is on kids and teens, and I can only spare three hours twice a week—Saturdays and Wednesdays. Unfortunately, I don’t get paid for it. Marina Stepanovna, my professor, just did me a favor by letting me start this experimental course when I told her about my dream. She said it would give me a chance to see if teaching is really for me.
It’s been a year since I first stepped into the role of a dance instructor-choreographer. And every time, I’m reminded again and again that this is absolutely my calling. I feel like I’m resting when I’m at those classes. For me, it’s also a way to stay in shape and do something I love. On top of that, I’ve started filming short online lessons that I post on my social media pages. Thanks to that, I’ve built a small following, and the positive feedback I get keeps me motivated to chase my dream.
“Once I open my studio, then I’ll relax. For now, I’m fine with how things are. Nothing and no one is distracting me. I’m not looking for a relationship either. So let’s drop this topic.”
“Ugh, you’re such a pain sometimes. You can’t keep putting life on hold. I love you, but you seriously need to get your head straight. This isn’t the last time we’re talking about this. I’ll get Sophie in on it too, and then you won’t be able to dodge us.”
“Fine, fine,” I said, throwing my hands up in a mock surrender gesture, unable to hold back a laugh. Tasha’s face during her little rant was so comically fierce.
We had a great lunch and caught up on a lot. Even though we live together, sometimes we only see each other in the mornings because of work. Tasha, by the way, is a theater actress. She’s got her debut coming up soon as the lead in a well-known play. I’m really looking forward to it.