Crescendo

Chapter 1

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Soundtrack for this chapter:
Boston—Augustana
Shake it Out—Florence + The Machine
Sex on Fire—Kings of Leon
Slow Hands—Niall Horan

1

Jules

Autumn comes early in Boston. At least, for someone who spent the first twenty-six years of her life in Savannah, Georgia, it does. By August, the average high temperature is a breezy eighty at the most. Compared to the balmy nineties I was used to back home, it was a pleasant change.

August back home in Georgia meant beads of sweat and thick lungs by seven in the morning. August in Boston meant a slight chill in the air, a should I bring a sweater with me? as I walked out the door each morning. I was of the firm belief that August in Boston was far more favorable to August in Savannah, for more than just the weather.

One thing that was universal, whether it was August in Boston, Savannah, or nearly any other city in the United States, was that college campuses were ramping up to have their next eager class of bright-eyed freshman storm their grounds and halls. As a clinical counselor at Parnassus University Cambridge, I was more than aware of how quickly their eagerness to finally be away from home turned into stress, doubt, and a general feeling of do I belong here?

Last August was my first ever influx of what my colleagues deemed "the freshman experience." I'll never know exactly how many students I spoke with that first night on the job, assuring them that what they were feeling was temporary, that it would get easier with time, that they wouldn't always miss the dogs and cats and bearded dragons they had to leave back home with mom and dad. What I do know was that I didn't have a chance to allow my head to hit the pillow until the sun was fully up.

And then, a year later, I found myself a week before it would happen all over again with the fresh crop of eighteen year olds who think they're ready to let loose. Let there be no mistake: I love what I'm doing. Focusing on solving other people's problems instead of dealing with my own has been a wonderful way to put off the inevitable. Some days, I was even able to forget that I had my own mess to deal with back in Georgia. But this wasn't one of those days; as I was trying to get ready for a night out, I was simultaneously trying to come up with an appropriate response to the email my lawyer had sent.

I read and reread his email as if it would help me construct something logical to send back. Procrastination at its finest.

Ms. Calhoun,

I hope you are well. It's been a few months since we last discussed your divorce. Nothing can be finalized until the papers are signed by both parties, and as of now, neither you nor Mr. Buchanan has done so. If you have any questions or know of a timeline, please give me a call.

Sincerely,
Simon Winston, Esq.

My first thought was that if my mother and father knew I'd changed my surname back, they'd be furious; my second thought was that Will would never sign before me. He may never sign at all.

A knock on my door halted all thoughts of my ex husband. Well, technically, soon to be ex. It's complicated. I shut my laptop and decided I'd figure out a response in the morning.

"Coming!"

Living in the staff housing of the university had its perks. One of which was not having to pay rent. Another was being able to hang out with colleagues like I was back in college.