“Okay, here we are. Home sweet home,” Ken announced while Victor, our family driver, pulled up in the driveway.

Home? It sure didn’t feel like it.

“Brandy? You okay?” Gin asked.

“Yeah, of course. Never been better,” I replied. Gin obviously did not believe me, but he did not press the matter further. He knew perfectly well that I was not okay.

“Hey, how was your vacation?” Nanny Emma’s head poked out of the front door and greeted us with her warm smile.

“It was good, thanks,” I said walking through the door that our nanny held open for us as I balanced my suitcase on my shoulder. Ken soon trudged through the door pulling along three large suitcases behind me.

“Can I stay for a while?” I asked Ken while looking around our house.

“Of course, you can stay anytime you want. Scotch will be happy to hear that.”

I made my way to my room, carrying my case but didn’t bother to unpack it. I slipped on my pajamas, brushed my teeth before climbing into bed, and waited for sleep to make me unconscious.

The thought of leaving Ivo brought a wave of tears to my eyes. Soon, they were cascading down my face, and I made no effort to wipe them away. I buried my face in my pillow trying to block out the sound. I let out all the hurt and anguish, and I just cried. After an eternity of waterworks, I drifted off into sleep.

***

I spent a week away from routine, a week away from ruts. I took a few ‘staycation’, I slept, and I ate and drank well. I hiked, I spent time with my brothers and Scotch, and I cooked though I didn’t know what the hell I was cooking. I started writing a story, read books and watched movies.

I did have my moments during the week when I was in a psychological slump, but I would attribute that to my brain unwinding from the routine.

After a week of sleepless nights, it was time to go back to reality. Vacation was over. I would be back to work next week.

I went back to my apartment to set my mind to work mode.

Monday morning, I did not jump right out of bed, ready to rush to work. My body was still partially adjusting to the time change, to the end of vacation. I heard the familiar ring of my alarm clock signaling me to get my ass out of bed. I stepped into the shower and bathed. I decided to leave my hair alone, not bothering to straighten it and left it in its natural wavy state. I made sure to keep my make-up to a bare minimum. I put on a black pencil skirt and a smart button-down shirt. I finished it off with a pair of black stilettos and I was ready to go.

I’m happy to say that I was more relaxed returning to work this week and so I thought I had already overcome the difficulty getting back into work mode.

I arrived at work on time and walked through the lobby until I reached my office. The interns greeted me with sheer cheerfulness.

My desk was a mess, as if it was hit by a tsunami. The rest of my office looked like an earthquake had struck. At least, I had the treat of a welcome back sign, which actually made me smile.

After two weeks away, I sat at my desk wondering where the time went. It felt just like yesterday that I was getting on a plane to Verona to attend to Carl’s wedding. Now here I was, sitting in a fog, clueless and dazed. I didn’t want to come back to a backlog so I deleted all the email messages that came in while I was gone and started fresh. Happy post-vacation! I felt as if I needed another vacation. I was already tired. I need my bed and a few more days off.

I heard a knock and saw a brunette stick her head through a small gap in my door. “Hey, Brandywiney, welcome back!” Marge ran over to me and gave me a breathtaking hug. “Let’s go have some lunch, my treat. You must be starved by now.”

“Thanks, Marge. I love knowing I can count on you. Where do you want to eat?”

“I feel like some Italian today,” said Marge in her teasing voice.

I shot her an annoyed glance. She giggled, stepping around to face me. She was about to say something, but I cut her off.

“Shut up.”

“What? I’m not saying anything.”

I just rolled my eyes at her.

We went to Andiamo a Mangiaro, one of the famous local Italian restaurants in town, and I immediately flopped down on the couch. I had never felt so restless in my entire life.

“So, how are you holding up?”

“Holding up what?”

“Oh, c’mon, Brandywiney, do not give me that innocent look.”

“Oh, please, Marge, do not start on me.”

“So, how’s Ivo, if you don’t mind me asking? Don’t tell me you don’t know him. You’ve been hookin’ up with him since your first day in Verona. So, tell me, how is he?”

Of course, how could I forget him?

“I hadn’t talked to him since I arrived.”

“You didn’t leave him your number? Your address? Your e-mail?

“No, nada.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Is he the reason you look so depressed?”

“No! I’m just… I’m just having vacation blues.”

“Ivo blues?” Marge teased. “Do you miss him? His touch, his kisses, his manly scent and his throb—”

“Can we stop talking about him?”

“The more you avoid it, the more you will think of it,” Marge stated and stuck a mouthful of pasta in her tiny mouth.

If she only knew how much I missed him.

First day of being back to work was finally over. I came back from vacation, and I’m supposed to be all zen. Fuck this! I wanted to kick someone’s face. I felt so tired. My first day back at work was hell. I just want to collapse on my bed after the day was over. That was exactly what happened to me.

Getting back into the routine seemed like one of the most daunting things in the world to do, especially after a good vacation of rest and relaxation. I knew though, that I’ve got to give myself the best chance to get back into the grind.

Again, I started responding to letters from the lovelorn seeking advice.

Dear Juliet,

I am in so much pain that I cannot sleep much. My heart is broken and my soul just feels dim, hollow, and cold. I am still madly in love with my ex-boyfriend. He told me that I was exactly what he would want if it was the right time, and that I deserve someone who is as equally giving. Nevertheless, he must have just been waiting for me to break things off and so I did. We ended on the whole let’s just be friends thing. But I could tell he still had lingering emotions for an ex who is his childhood sweetheart. Letting go of someone who was never yours is painful but remaining friends after the break up feels dumber than ever.

Sincerely,

DumbGirl

***

Dear DumbGirl,

I don’t see any issue with remaining civil and polite with exes, but maintaining a friendship? No thanks. When I’ve left, I’ve left. Ironically, becoming friends with your ex, and letting the past go in the process can actually help you move on to an even better relationship with someone new. If you think being friends with the source of your pain will help you through an emotional crisis, you’re mistaken. Once you’ve had an opportunity to heal, it may be possible to be friends, but not before.

Take some time for yourself, no rebounds allowed. Don’t settle for less than you deserve.

Love,

Juliet

As the days, weeks and months passed, the pain in my heart was reduced to a dull ache. What I felt for Ivo might be a little more than sexual attraction but I was slowly recovering. He was just another one of those vacation flings.

You’ll get over it. I kept telling myself.

There was a note sitting on my keyboard when I arrived at work one day. I set my things down and picked up the note. I opened it and read.

Ms. Curtis,

Please meet me in my office as soon as you read this. It’s urgent.

Chief

My heart skipped a beat as I read it was from chief. Am I getting fired?

I dropped the note on the floor and ran out of the office. I walked up to his door and saw he was staring at his computer.

“Chief, what’s going on?” He looked up at me and stood up from his desk. “Am I getting fired?”

“Hey Brandy, relax. What are you talking about? Please sit down.”

What did I do wrong? There was a strange silence that I wasn’t comfortable with.

“I would like to start with one question. Do you still like working for this company, Ms. Curtis?”

I slowly nodded my head.

“If you do, then produce some letters worth reading or else the management might remove your section in the newspaper, and I can no longer back your ass up if that happens.”

“They are letters worth—”

“They’re crap, Brandy! Did you even reread it before you sent it to be published? Readers were confused. Some of the letter senders were even furious. Your advices are confusing and contradicting.” Yelling made his scratchy voice even hoarser.

I gasped and opened my mouth to shout back at him, but of course, I didn’t. “Sorry chief, I’ll do better next time. I promise.” I shook my head, apologizing profusely.

“Better? I want your best, Brandy. Did you leave it in Verona?”

I left my heart in Verona.

“Brandy, you were given an entire page for your section because people love your advices. Do not let your personal issues come in the way of your job because you might lose it.”

“Sorry, chief. You know that I need this job. Please, I need to stay here for my mother. I’ll do my best, I promise.”

“Okay, get back to work and prove yourself.”

“Thank you, chief.” I turned around and walked out of his office.

I ran into my office and fell onto the floor crying.

“Brandy!” Marge ran over to me and helped me off the floor. “Come with me, Brands.” She dragged me toward the bathroom. Everyone in the hallway was looking at me. I couldn’t stop sobbing.

I’m sure they thought someone died.

The bathroom door flew open, and she locked it behind us. “What’s wrong? Brands, look at me.”

“Marge, I almost got fired.”

“What?”

“Chief saved my ass and gave me another chance to prove myself.”

“I should’ve known,” Marge said. “We’ve been receiving negative feedbacks about your letters,” she continued.

“I’m afraid of what’s happening to me, Marge. I sometimes don’t even know what I’m writing.”

“You just need to focus. Just relax. Do not stress yourself too much.” Marge wiped away tears in my eyes. “Let’s go. I’ll treat you to some coffee.”

“Can you accompany me to the center after? I want to see Mom.”

“Sure, let’s go.”

We pulled over to the center after a cup of coffee that helped calm my nerves down. I wanted to see mom though it’ll be a torture since I went depressed when I go and feel guilty when I don’t. I have not seen her in weeks and I almost forgot she’ll be fifty five next month.

I am grateful for Jessica for taking care of her day to day needs as I took care of her legal affairs from afar.

For the entire one hour and fifteen-minute visit, mom’s eyes were shut when we saw her from a distance being wheeled toward us, and she never opened them. They looked purposefully shut and her brow was furrowed but she was not asleep.

“Jessica, why isn’t she’s opening her eyes?”

“I really don’t know but she’s doing it on purpose.”

In the latter part of the visit, she seemed more relaxed. She also was doing some odd things with her left arm. Her right isn’t much good. She lifted her whole arm up and out as if to take something out of the air. Each time she did that, I went over to her chair to take her hand and put my arm around her, but she didn’t respond. And she never once opened her eyes.

So I thought she was elsewhere, somewhere safe. As we went to leave, I gave her a kiss but she didn’t kiss back and she never even once opened her eyes. I thought her mind traveled to a happy place, to a place where her mind comprehends.