A new life
*Isabella*
As I gaze around the confines of the compact city apartment that has been my home for the last eight years, I can’t help but notice the stark emptiness. The once familiar space now feels foreign, stripped of personal belongings, leaving only the furniture behind.
I have decided to sublet it, fully furnished, while I grapple with the magnitude of the decision I have made. After all, this isn’t just a minor adjustment… it’s a complete life overhaul, and there’s no guarantee it will pan out as I hope. So for now, the contract runs for six months, with a possibility for extension or sale when that time comes.
After all, I am a city girl through and through, my roots deeply embedded in the urban fabric of San Francisco. I have spent my entire existence here, carving out a niche for myself as a corporate lawyer in a prominent law firm.
However, the glamor of the city and the prestige of the job have been overshadowed by the subtle yet consistent thread of sexism that runs through the office. Being a woman in this field has exposed me to an insidious undercurrent of misogyny and s****l innuendo. The final straw was an inappropriate proposition from my boss, insinuating that a series of after-work private meetings could lead to my promotion to a named partner.
In the wake of this incident, I found myself adrift in a sea of uncertainty. However, during one of my late-night internet job searches, I stumbled upon an unexpected opportunity. An advert for a small legal practice in a quaint coastal town en route to Los Angeles caught my eye. The current owner was on the brink of retirement and wanted to sell the entire practice. This was a path I had never even contemplated before, but the moment I read the ad, a spark ignited within me. I just knew… this could be the change I needed.
My dream has always been to shatter the proverbial glass ceiling, to be that kind of woman who paves the way for others. Will I thrive off the beaten path in a small town? Of course, no one says I need to stay there until retirement. At least there won’t be any male colleagues to deal with.
Another dream of mine was to find love, true love, not just settle because I did not want to be alone. To get married and have kids. But at thirty-five and still single, that dream feels more like a distant fantasy that I have nearly given up on.
Each passing year has seemed to narrow my options, and now it feels like any man who shows an interest in me is either significantly older, a total loser, or a complete jerk. And any man that piques my interest is either already married or gay. The pool of available, straight men around my age who are worth the time seems to have dwindled to a mere trickle.
As I load the last of my belongings into the trunk of my car, a cocktail of emotions swirls within me. The thrill of the unknown mingles with a touch of fear, creating a heady mix of anticipation and apprehension. I’m trading the safe confines of my city for the unpredictability of a small town, a leap of faith I’m ready to take.
The idea of a fresh start, a chance to escape the stifling expectations and toxic work culture, fills me with a newfound sense of purpose. As I drive out of town and get on the freeway, I start to think that maybe I can actually make a difference here.
