Chapter 11: Self–Doubt
Max was fine–the vet said he was just easily startled and had been scared. He’d
be okay with some rest.
I felt mixed emotions about the whole situation. Max had been with Jake and me
since he was a puppy.
Though Jake hadn’t been around daily like I had, he’d always cared about Max. Now being bitten by him must have really hurt his feelings.
But the dog wasn’t at fault.
His damaged little brain could only hold so much, and after so long without seeing
jake, of course he’d forgotten him.
Watching Max looking so dejected, I sighed and hugged him close.
My book wasn’t getting much traction despite over 100,000 words. My editor tried
to comfort me:
“Your writing is actually good, but plenty of well–written books don’t find an
audience. Sometimes breaking through requires a bit of luck.”
When it rains, it pours–my mom called to nag me again.
“Has that book of yours amounted to anything yet? You can barely scrape together a thousand dollars a month. You clearly don’t have what it takes for this
profession. Why are you so stubborn about it?”
She couldn’t help comparing me to others: “Look at Jake. Look at that girlfriend he found. You’re both human beings–how can the gap between you be so huge? I don’t expect you to be as successful as they are, but at least find a stable job. Stop writing that nonsense and come back home to apply for that government job at the county office.”
She complained for ages before reluctantly hanging up, then sent me a link. I opened it to find a profile of Olivia Bennett, featured as a distinguished alumna. The article detailed her entire life story..
Born with a silver spoon, she’d been a straight–A student and beauty queen from childhood. Piano virtuoso, performed ballet in Sydney, valedictorian address at
1/2
graduation.
She’d been scouted by the most prestigious magazine before even graduating, landing the job and getting promoted to editor in just one month—a meteoric rise to success in every aspect of her charmed life.
In contrast, I felt like a sewer rat.
My fingers twitched, and I retrieved the cigarette pack I’d thrown in the trash when I’d resolved to quit. I pulled one out and, after a moment’s hesitation, lit it and took a deep drag.
The biting cold air mixed with the harsh nicotine, making my airways sting. I stared at the pitch–black night sky, suddenly feeling lost and exhausted.
Maybe my mother was right.
Maybe I really didn’t have the talent or ability. Maybe I shouldn’t aspire to anything beyond mediocrity, since I was just an ordinary person, as unremarkable as they
come.
My phone’s ringtone jolted me out of my spiral of self–pity.
Alex’s excited voice came through: “There’s a meteor shower tomorrow night- Leonids. I have a house up in the mountains with a telescope. Want to come see
it?”
I hesitated, unsure if I should accept.
“They say wishes on Leonid meteors always come true,” he added. Whatever objection I’d been about to make vanished. “Sure, why not?”
