God on a Harley by Joan Brady

Author:Joan Brady
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books

6

NO ONE WAS VERY HAPPY with me at work when I handed in my request to change my status to part-time. Everyone asked if I had started another job somewhere else or if I was going back to school. It seemed preposterous for someone to simply want more time to enjoy life. After all, they all still thought the only way to enjoy life was to make as much money as you possibly could and how could you do that working part-time? Joe certainly had his work cut out for him around here. They even tried to lay guilt trips on me, but I did my best not to let it bother me. I was bound and determined to take care of myself first and foremost.

The way I figured it, I could work two twelve-hour shifts and one eight-hour shift a week and still manage my bills—if I cut back on some of my expenses. I was more than willing to cut back a little if it meant more time to explore all the new aspects of my life.

For as long as I could remember, I defined myself by the work I do. Now when people asked, “What do you do?” I wanted to have a better answer than, “I’m a nurse.” I’m more than a nurse, I must be. It was time to find out just what else I was. Joe had started me thinking differently, and I knew he was right. I wasn’t happy and hadn’t been in a long time, but I had been too busy to notice. The time had come to find out who I really was and what I really wanted.

Then there was the matter of the apartment. I couldn’t believe I was giving up my little corner of the cement jungle and moving into an even smaller, less modern little cottage on the beach. But I was and nothing would stop me now. I was intrigued by the things Joe was teaching me about myself, and I had to admit that perhaps my style of living and my priorities had been a bit shallow. When you’re as empty and unfulfilled as I was, it’s easy to take risks. Nothing left to lose makes for bold moves.

I hadn’t heard from Joe in almost two weeks again and I wondered if biweekly appearances were going to be his pattern. But then I knew someone like Joe would never be ruled by things like patterns. He was a free spirit and he seemed to bring out the free spirit in me, a free spirit I hadn’t even known I possessed.

I was in the “beach house,” as I liked to call it, on the first of the month, unpacking cartons. I couldn’t imagine how I was going to fit all of my “stuff” into my new dwelling, since it had just barely fit into the old, more spacious apartment. Not that I owned all that much, but what I had apparently was more than the average beach bum had.

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