I curled my toes and felt the satiny smoothness of my sheets. I loved sleeping. It was the only time my mind shut down and I was able to relax. My dreams were a great escape from the reality of my life. Not that my life was bad, by any means, but in my dreams … anything was possible. I didn’t have to be the successful, rich, well-put-together girl that everyone expected me to be. I could be free, and I yearned for that freedom.
Reality was such a drag.
The reality was that I had parents who didn’t care that I existed, let alone feel any sort of pride in any of my accomplishments. In their eyes, it was silly that I wasted my time in real estate. My bank account was full, and I would never want for anything … Well, anything physical anyway. Emotionally … My account was empty.
As a child I’d been raised around the world. I’d lived in glamorous places and rubbed elbows with glamorous people. My father had bought me a house when I graduated high school, and I had enough clothes in my closet to dress the entire city. My parents couldn’t understand why I felt the need to stay in this town and work. Especially in something as blue collar as real estate.
I had a feeling that I’d never understand my parents, and they’d never understand me … Which was fine. Really. I had the best friends a girl could ask for, and I was doing something that I enjoyed. Sure, I went through men like I went through shoes, but I’d been around long enough to know what men wanted when they saw me … or, at least, the me I let them see.
I enjoyed them, and they enjoyed me, and if they thought I was cold when I brushed them off after a few encounters, so be it. At least we got what we wanted from each other in the interim.