Page 12 of Unscripted

I tossed my phone across the bed and rolled over. I could see my suitcases by the bedroom door, packed and ready to go, my name printed in large, red cursive across the plastic front. Production had sent them over earlier in the week. Apparently, each contestant used the same suitcases, and they had a bit of a cult-like following themselves. Looking at them now, it felt like they were taunting me, daring me to quit and unpack them.

Could I really go through with this?

Did I even have the option not to?

The most basic fact of the matter at hand was that I needed a job. I needed to make money, and I preferred to do so on this side of the world rather than having to go back home to New York.

That would have to be reason enough.

***

Soon enough, my alarm was going off; I had slept for a grand total of forty-five minutes.

Blair was already awake, and the beautiful aroma of freshly brewed coffee made its way to me as I wheeled my suitcases out to the entryway.

We sat together in the quiet of the early morning, sipping our coffee and not saying anything. Not needing to say anything. We had talked everything to death; all that was left was to enjoy our last moments together.

In the stillness of the kitchen, with the comforting warmth of a friend by my side, I let my mind wander back down the road that had led me to this point.

I thought, for real this time, about my ex.

We had been together for four years; years that I thought would continue forever. When we first started dating, I remember being struck by his energy. He wanted to do everything, be everywhere, feel it all. It was intoxicating and fun and all too easy to go along with what he wanted. To be all in on him.

I thought he had been all in on me, too.

Until the day I realized he wasn’t; that he never would be.

I wondered what he would make of all this. If I was being honest, his finding out was one thing I was actually looking forward to. I hoped that whenever he did, he would know it was my way of saying, “screw you, I can make rash decisions too.”

The buzz of my cell phone brought me back to reality. I looked down at it and saw that my car to the airport had arrived.

I set down my coffee and looked over at Blair.

“Well,” I said, “it’s time.”

She got up and threw her arms around me. I held on to her, and something in the embrace, in the final goodbye to anything remotely familiar for who knew how long, had a knot forming in my throat and tears burning the corners of my eyes.

We clung to each other until my phone vibrated with another text from the driver.

It was time to go.

Clearing my throat and attempting to ground myself back in the present, I pulled away first.

“Have the best time,” Blair said, gripping my hands in hers. “I’ll see you when you get out.”

“Hey, I could get sent home after the first night and be back here in a week!” I said, aiming for levity and trying to avoid the building emotions I knew would lead me to tears.

“You’re not going to get sent home first,” she said, fixing me once again with that determined look of hers, as though she could my will my success on the show into being. “You’re going to have a great time and meet someone super hot who is also really nice and nothing like your dumbass ex.”

She put her hands on my shoulders and held me in place.

“Poppy,” she said, “give this a chance. Be the funny, wonderful, kick-ass person I know you are.” She squeezed my shoulders before dropping her arms from me. “Now, get out the door and into that car. I don’t want to see you for another six weeks!”

I did as she said, wheeling my suitcases out the door and to the car waiting at the curb.

“Alright, miss?” the driver asked me from the front seat after I climbed in.

I paused before answering, looking out the window and up at the building that had been my saving grace for the past two weeks.