Good for You: A Novel (73)

“The editorial director position isn’t a permanent decision. Let me talk to my team before you make any big moves.”

Her eyes followed a pair of gulls circling overhead. “There’s no need. I don’t even want to be editor in chief anymore.” It was true. What Aly had been trying to keep wasn’t the position; it was her identity. But a title would never make her exceptional, or even normal. It would never make her feel accepted or loved. All of that had to come from within her . . . and to a lesser degree, from the people she loved. “Without that desire, I won’t be any good.”

“What happened, Aly?” he asked quietly.

“My life happened,” she said. “I’ll email the staff to let them know I’m not returning. But James?”

“Yes?”

“Do everyone a favor and fire one of your assistants and use that money to pay a decent wage to a smart and savvy editor in chief that will help All Good create a digital presence and stay out of the media graveyard. If you’re not sure where to start, Google the word influencer, okay?”

James laughed nervously. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do without you, Aly Jackson. I’ll miss you.”

She wanted to say that she’d miss him, too, but it wasn’t true. He hadn’t been a bad boss. But she wouldn’t miss his early morning texts, or the mental gymnastics she’d had to perform in order to justify the financial and editorial decisions he made, knowing deep down that they were at odds with the long-term success of the magazine she loved. In fact, she already felt like someone had lifted an enormous weight off her shoulders. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, James.”

“Our door is always open if you change your mind,” he said.

After she hung up, Aly took a deep breath. She felt good. Not quite relaxed—she hadn’t fixed things with Wyatt—but not conflicted or cloudy. And maybe that was why she dialed Seth’s number next.

“Aly?” he answered. He sounded confused.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner,” she said.

“Oh. Uh. It’s okay.”

Neither of them spoke. Then Seth said, “Honestly? I wasn’t okay with it. You just . . . cut me off, Aly.”

“I know, Seth. I’m sorry,” she said, leaning back in her chair. The sun felt good on her skin. “I was trying to protect myself. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking during my time off, and . . . I was a lot more messed up than I ever let you know.”

“About us? I tried to be a good boyfriend, Aly.”

“I know you did. That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“My childhood, Seth.” He’d so rarely asked about her past, and she’d been happy not to volunteer information about it. “It was traumatic. I think that’s why I had the meltdown with Meagan and Ashleigh.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Aly. I wish you’d told me.”

“It’s alright. It’s not your fault I didn’t. I just wanted to close the loop between us, I guess, and tell you I feel bad about how I ended things.”

“I forgive you,” he said.

She believed him.

“How do you want to handle this?” he asked. “Since you’ll be back in the offices soon, we’ll probably see each other. I don’t want it to be awkward.”

Of course James hadn’t told him yet; she’d only broken the news to him minutes earlier. Aly examined her nails. Next month’s issue had an article about kitchen staples that doubled as beauty aids, and apparently a dab of olive or canola oil was just the thing to soften cuticles. It was strange to think that soon she’d have to wait until All Good hit the newsstands to read it, just like everyone else. “I won’t, so no need to worry about things being awkward. I quit.”

“No.” Seth sounded stricken.

“Yes!” Even she was surprised at the glee in her voice. “I’m done being an editor.” Aly knew as soon as she said this she would need to email Meagan, too, and tell her that there was zero possibility that she would be working for her. Aly needed to find out who she was when she wasn’t bent over pages with a red pen.

“What are you going to do?” asked Seth.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t involve teaching people how to fit in. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with All Good’s message. Really, it had gotten her through so much of her life. But now she saw a different way—a path that didn’t require a map to navigate.

Maybe her new career would involve helping people see that trying to be normal was overrated.

Aly sighed the sigh of someone who had lived several lifetimes, which was pretty much how she felt. “I really am sorry.”

“Me, too,” he said. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Aly doubted she’d ever speak to him again. But she could appreciate the sentiment all the same. “I honestly wish you all the best, Seth.” Just then, a couple of gulls swooped down and started fighting over something in the sand.

“Where are you, anyway?” asked Seth.

She looked out at the water. “Home.”

Aly felt relieved after she hung up, but depleted, too. The truth set you free—but first it wore you out.