And After All This Time, I'm Still Into You

I'm going to be late. One more groan escapes my lips and I wonder why I decided to live on the other side of the city instead of closer so I could walk or something. The morning traffic continues and I roll my eyes as I hear various honking around me. I refrain from joining in because I know it won't make a difference. The New York traffic is nothing new to me. It's part of my daily routine. Wake up. Shower. Change. Coffee. Traffic. Work. Home. Sleep. Repeat. Eating food is thrown in there during odd times.

It's been like this for 3 years. Three long glorious years of New York living. Long lonely years. I guess I chose to live like this though. Chose career over a social life, family. Love. You'd think that with my line of work, I'd have all that. But with the hours, the pace I'm working at, I've pushed it all aside. I go out sometimes on weekends, but lately I find myself doing it less and less.

Some may say I'm a workaholic. I call myself dedicated. I've worked my ass off to get here, to be one of the top wedding planners of my firm in the state of New York. Ever since I was a child, I dreamnt of this. And now, I'm right where I want to be.

I struggle to hold my coffee mug in my already full hand as I get out of my car, handing my keys to the valet so I can switch the mug to my other hand, careful not to drop any papers in my hand.

"Morning miss Jenna." the valet says as I smile politely.

My heel clad feet tap against the floor as I hurry towards to elevator, trying to get out of the cold winter air and into some warmth. Rushing in, I push the number 17 and ride towards my floor. Clack clack clack. The noise echoes as I exit and walk towards my office.

"Jenna, I have Evan Marcus on line 2 for you." My assistant Trisha says through the phone speaker as soon as I settle in. I quickly change into work mode, picking up the phone and taking the call.

When I hang up the phone, happy with another client to add to my books, Trisha comes in with a fresh mug of coffee and a stack of mail and faxes. I thank her and quickly set to open the stack.

Venue confirmation copies. Client 'Thank You's'. Various bills. I look at the last of my stack. I open it and take out a manila folder, along with a card in a blank envelope. I take out the card and recognize it as a wedding invitation. I don't pay any attention to the writing. It's not unusual for me to get them working in this field. I turn to open the folder, a packet of papers with colorful stickies attached at various ends. I read over as I realize what this is.

My eyes blink rapidly, trying to rid the images. But they're still there. The packet is still in my hands. I drop it, as if its burning me. My hands shakily grip the wedding invitation, my eyes scanning over the print:



I push it aside as I grasp the packet once again. Looking over the marked areas, I pick up a pen, ready to sign on the needed areas. I let out a sigh of breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"Jenna, your 2:15 called and canceled." Trisha comes in to tell me. I stare at the papers still, not hearing her and she tries to get my attention again. "Jenna? Mrs. Gaskarth?" I lift my head and nod.

There. It's done. After all these years, he's finally found me. After all this time, we're finally no longer tied to each other. My eyes flicker over to Alex's neat signature next to my own, then to the words at the top of the page.

Petition to Divorce, it says. I laugh silently to myself. I'm divorced. I'm a 25 year old wedding planner, and I'm divorced.