Night to Regret

Spontaneous Escape

-Elizabeth-

Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the living room—a light golden hue that seemed to wrap around me like a cozy blanket. I sat cross-legged on my couch, half-finished with a mystery novel abandoned on the coffee table. I had been racing through the plot, eager to uncover the culprit, only to find that my mind wandered when faced with reality. Just then, the sudden trill of my phone disrupted the peaceful ambiance like an unexpected firework.

I glanced at the screen, my heart beating as I saw my sister Samantha's name lighting up. "Hey, Sam!" I greeted with a smile on my face as I answered it. It had been a while since we had a good chat, and our lives seemed to be spinning in different orbits - her in Texas, me ensconced in my little bubble of work, and a lazy dog named Fatso in a windy Chicago.

"Liz! I'm so glad you answered! How have you been?" Samantha's voice burst through the speaker, radiant with energy and enthusiasm like a balloon that had just popped but was still floating. I sometimes wondered how she managed to maintain that level of zest, especially with two little devils running around her house and a husband who was head over heels for her, throwing kisses like confetti.

"Busy, as usual," I replied, leaning back against the couch, allowing my head to fall against the cushions like a wayward beach ball.

"Work's been insane. And you won't believe the number of emails I'm buried under. How's Texas treating you?"

"Oh, you know, warm and sunny! Just another glorious day in the Lone Star State," Samantha laughed, and I could practically hear her rolling her eyes as if acknowledging my sarcasm. "But I have exciting news! The annual cowboy fair is next week, and I would love for you to come. It's going to be a blast!"

I paused, allowing my imagination to wander through the vibrant atmosphere of the fair. The bright lights flickered like playful stars, glowing warmly on smiling faces. Laughter bubbled all around, harmonizing with the distant sound of carnival games—a joyous melody that pulled at my heart. Everywhere I turned, the tantalizing aroma of freshly made funnel cakes drifted through the air, sweet and inviting, each whiff tempting me to indulge. The crisp edges dusted with powdered sugar glistened under the lights, promising a moment of pure bliss. Children darted about, their excitement infectious, while couples strolled hand-in-hand, sharing whispers and stolen glances. It was a scene where dreams danced freely, and every corner beckoned with the promise of delight.

But I also knew why she was inviting me. It was no secret that my dating life had taken a nosedive into the shallowest waters, with the only waves being created by Fatso snoring on the couch. Samantha has always understood the weight of my reluctance to embrace the possibility of a new relationship, especially after Nathan's exit, which was nothing short of a catastrophic blow to my heart. His departure left me in ruins, a shattered version of who I once was. I remember those dark days vividly when I shut myself away in my room, the curtains drawn tight, consumed by despair. I felt invisible, like a ghost haunting my life, and reaching out to anyone seemed overwhelmingly impossible.

Samantha stepped in like a light cutting through the darkness in that silence. She didn't just see the bruises that Nathan left behind; she saw me-my worth, my potential, the person I longed to be again. She held my hand through the storm, guiding me back to the surface when I could no longer see the light. Her unwavering belief in me was a lifeline, anchoring me as I fought against the currents of hopelessness.

Samantha didn't just offer words of comfort; she took action. She dared to speak up to my father, advocating for a change in my school. It was a bold move, fueled by her passion to shield me from the cruel teasing that came not only from classmates blinded by our family's wealth but also from a painful reminder that true friends are hard to find among those who see only our last name rather than the person beneath it.

Her efforts transformed my world. By persuading my father to switch schools, she opened the door to new opportunities, new friendships, and a chance for me to redefine my narrative. I often find myself reflecting on how much I owe her, how her kindness and fierce loyalty stirred a flicker of hope within me when I had almost forgotten what it felt like to live fully. Every day, I feel deeply grateful for her—she didn't just help me; she taught me how to stand tall and surround myself with those who would see me for everything I truly am.

"Cowboys and fair food... It sounds tempting," I admitted after returning to the conversation with my sister, imagining brain-wearing rodeo queens and sturdy cowboys with broad smiles, maybe even a lasso or two in case I needed assistance wrangling my heart.

"Not to mention the live music and rodeo events! You've got to see this year's bull riding competition; it's supposed to be the best yet!" Samantha urged; her enthusiasm an infectious cocktail that slowly began mixing with my trepidation.

I chuckled, rolling my eyes at the thought of clowns in spurs. "I'm not really into rodeos, but I could use a break from my current routine of Netflix marathons and Fatso's dramatic sighs. Plus, it's been too long since we've spent time together."

Samantha's excitement felt like a wave crashing over text messages and phone lines. "Exactly! Just think about us having fun, exploring the fair, and enjoying sister time! What do you say?"

A rush of warmth spread through me like a gentle tide washing ashore. The thought of reconnecting with Samantha and experiencing something new tugged at my heart as if it were a child, beckoning me to join a game of tag. "Okay, okay! You've convinced me! I'll come to Texas for the fair," I finally replied, unable to suppress the grin that spread across my face.

"YES! You won't regret it, I promise! I'll send you all the details, and we'll plan the perfect weekend. I can't wait to show you around!" Her voice beamed through the phone, lighting up my day like a bonfire at a campsite.

"I'm looking forward to it too," I said, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. "Thanks for inviting me."

Of course, the moment was short-lived as her children's delightful chaos crept in like stealthy ninjas, screaming at the top of their lungs and turning our little sisterly moment into a cacophony of giggles and tantrums. I could already hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet running amok. Samantha swiftly apologized, promising to call me before my flight with a detailed report on this year's eligible bachelors at the One-night Date auction, which she insisted was a "must-see." I couldn't help but laugh out loud, already envisioning her with a notepad, rating potential suitors from "meh" to "wow."

A few days have passed, filled to the brim with clients and the chaotic finalizations of yet another art exhibition showcasing young talent, as I struggle to balance my work life with the nagging thoughts of that email from a handsome man in sexy glasses. I couldn't shake the wild, unruly fantasy that he had somehow wormed his way into my mind and heart via a perfectly crafted email. I resisted playing, even going so far as to delete it from the trash rather than risk succumbing to temptations. No. That would mean that email had some influence over me. And that couldn't be true. No, no.

Still, I couldn't shake my thoughts of Mr. Romeo, as I secretly called him, and his hypnotizing grey eyes, paired with a body that could only be described as sculpted by angels. Damn. It was as if a cosmic force had decided that I was eligible for a punishment, perhaps for all the time I had declared my heart off-limits.

Your v****a is not off-limits or out of service? My inner voice chimed in, nudging me with an idea that, while enticing, carried a hint of mischief. I reminded myself that engaging in a relationship was not on my agenda. Still, I couldn't completely dismiss the thought of indulging in something with Mr. Romeo. After all, he seemed like the kind of man who could feed my appetite, possibly turning it into an obsession. A little thrill danced through me at the thought.

"Good God. Liz! Get a grip, woman!" I admonished myself as I shook my head, fighting off the wandering thoughts. The last thing I needed was to let a fine man lead me down the tempting rabbit hole of trouble. But oh, how the idea intrigued me—excitement tingled at the base of my spine like a spark ready to ignite.

"I need a break. I need a vacation," I announced loudly, slumping dramatically in my chair as if to underline my declaration with a flourish. My desk, cluttered with half-finished projects and scattered sticky notes adorned with reminders, reminded me of the chaotic whirlwind of my life.

Just as I contemplated the merits of a zen-like beach destination, my phone chimed, and the screen lit up with a message from my sister, Samantha. With precise timing that felt almost celestial, she sent me the details of my upcoming arrival in Texas, tucked neatly with a plane ticket. I had forgotten entirely about her invitation—and the tantalizing cowboy fair we had promised to visit together. A quick glance at the calendar elicited a sigh of relief; I still had three glorious days before my flight was booked. Spontaneous escape?

Yes, please!

Sitting at my desk, I took a deep breath, envisioning the fairgrounds alive with color, laughter, and the delicious scent of fried food wafting through the air. The cursor on the screen blinked at me, almost as if it were taunting my procrastination, daring me to put my thoughts into words. I had intended to send this email days ago, but deadlines had a way of creeping up on me like a thief in the night, stealing my productivity. With Samantha's invitation warming my heart, I knew it was time to make my vacation request official.

I opened a new email draft and began typing with determination:

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**Subject:** Request for Vacation Leave

Dear Stella,

I hope this message finds you in good spirits. I formally request a short vacation from this Friday until the end of next week. I understand that we are in the midst of the Art Fair project, and I want to assure you of a smooth and drama-free transition during my absence.

To streamline this process, I want to delegate my project responsibilities to Melody and Gigi. I've had a thorough chat with them about the ongoing tasks and deadlines, and they are fully prepped and ready to step in. I'll complete all necessary documentation and updates before departure to facilitate a seamless handover.

I genuinely appreciate your understanding and support. I'm looking forward to returning with renewed energy and a fresh perspective, ready to tackle whatever challenges come our way. Please let me know if you require any additional information or if there are any further requirements I should address before my time off.

Thank you so much for considering my request!

Best regards,

Elizabeth

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I reread the message, gnawing on my lip nervously. It seemed enough—polite and professional—but what if Stella thought I was being irresponsible for daring to take time off? My inner doubter pestered me with concerns. But I shook off the nagging thoughts; we all deserved a break, and I had indeed earned mine amid the relentless grind of work.

With a decisive click to press "Send," a wave of relief washed over me. That simple action hurled me one step closer to my much-needed escape. I felt a sense of buoyancy in my chest as vivid daydreams of the fair painted my mind—throngs of people milling about, the shrieking laughter of children, the sweet, sweet embrace of funnel cakes melting on my tongue, all paired with the joy of making memories with Samantha.

Yet, as quickly as my excitement surged, reality crept back in with a second wave of unfinished tasks crashing against my mind. I hastily drafted another email, an obligation I couldn't ignore.

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**Subject:** Project Handover Details

Hi Melody and Gigi,

I hope this finds you both thriving amidst the chaos! I'm reaching out regarding the Art Fair. As I'll be on a short vacation starting Friday through the end of next week, I'd like to formally hand over my project responsibilities to you during that time.

I've attached the latest updates and documents for you to look over, and I'd be thrilled to set up a time tomorrow to walk you through everything before I leave. Just let me know what works best for you!

Thank you a million times for your help—your support means the world!

Warm regards,

Elizabeth

---

After sending that off, I leaned back in my chair and took a long, deliberate breath like a seasoned yoga instructor. My lips curled into a goofy grin as I envisioned myself atop a mechanical bull, the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I attempted to hold on for dear life. The fair was waiting, and the thought of fried dough and sisterly bonding made the daily drudgery of work shrink into oblivion.

Fatso, my loyal partner in crime, sensed the change in my mood. He shuffled his little paws across the wooden floor, each click of his claws reminiscent of a tap dancer applauding my good fortune. And, of course, Samantha knew when I was heading to her charming little ranch, Fatso needed to tag along for the adventure. His presence could turn any ordinary moment into a comedy sketch. I lifted my lil' man onto my lap, scratching him behind those adorably floppy ears.

"How about a week in Texas? We'll frolic with the devil's spawn, indulge in life-threateningly greasy snacks, and maybe even watch some rugged cowboys strut their stuff in the arena!" I jested, using a low, playfully dramatic tone that made him perk up as though he understood the gravity of my words. Fatso barked in agreement and sprawled back on my lap, making himself comfortable as if he were auditioning for the lead role in "The Couch Potato Chronicles."

I chuckled at his unabashed laziness. Sometimes, his indifference left me wondering if he had any feelings at all or if his heart was as hard as I had imagined mine had become. Did someone break Fatso's heart too? Could there be a puppy proverb about love gone wrong? Perhaps "You become who you hang out with" could explain our bond as we navigated life, one misadventure day at a time.

Moments later, I received that golden approval for my vacation from Stella, the sweetest boss on the planet. Her enthusiastic email truly brightened my day, instantly bringing a smile to my face. It felt as if I had just won a small lottery, the kind of luck that fills you with improbable joy. It was a blessing I wished everyone could experience—a boss who understood the often-overlooked value of work-life balance and genuinely cared about her team's well-being, nurturing their mental health and happiness along the way. My heart raced at the thrilling thought of the adventures that awaited me, and I could already hear, in my mind, the distant echo of lively music playing at the barns, filling the air with a sense of freedom and fun.

I eagerly turned to my colleagues' responses; they greeted the news with genuine excitement and easy camaraderie. Their resolves brightened, and they assured me they would cover my project without a hint of fuss or hesitation. This was the kind of teamwork that felt rare yet refreshingly authentic, giving me the confidence I needed to dive headfirst into my upcoming adventure. Support like this bolstered the very spirit of our team and made our workplace feel like a second home.

As I wrapped up my work for the day, the home office felt unusually vibrant and alive. The chatter and laughter drifting from the TV, turned on, lifted my spirits, wrapping me in a comforting cocoon of warmth and familiarity. I glanced out the window, where the sun shone brightly, casting a warm golden hue over the buildings and streets, and suddenly, it felt like I was breaking free from the monotony that had held me captive for far too long. The daily grind, once a slight irritation, had begun to wear me down, but now the world outside seemed bursting with possibilities, each glimmering moment inviting me to seize the day with open arms and an open heart.

With Fatso, my beloved dog, resting comfortably on the couch, a sense of calm washed over me like a gentle wave lapping at the shore. I could picture him lounging lazily, his breath steady and rhythmic, the soft purring sound he made blending seamlessly with the tranquility of the room. It was the only sound in the air while I embarked on my own little adventures in thought. My vacation plans were finally duly approved, and the vibrant anticipation of the fair burst into life within me—the lively spectacle, the colors bursting out in a myriad of tapestries, the enticing scents of food wafting from diverse stalls, and the exhilaration of carnival rides twisting through the sky, all came rushing back into my mind like an old friend.

I felt my heart swell with a distinct hope, envisioning all the wonderful experiences that lay ahead. Little did I realize that this trip would be more than just a break from my daily routines; it would mark the start of something truly unexpected and transformative. I imagined that I might encounter a light-hearted soul at the fair, share a laugh with a kind stranger, or perhaps even forge a new connection that would blossom into a cherished friendship. The thought twirled around in my mind, igniting a vibrant spark of excitement within me. After all, life has a funny way of presenting itself in the most unpredictable ways, and I was more than ready to embrace whatever came my way, knowing that each moment held the potential for joy and new beginnings.