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Emily chooses the worst time and place to have a meltdown.
Sure, there’s no good time and place to have a meltdown, but the parking lot of a rest stop in the middle of the turnpike at ten in the morning definitely isn’t the most ideal place to be having an anxiety attack. Especially considering they’re barely an hour into their week-long road trip.
Despite being rudely awoken from Emily violently swerving into the rest stop, Beca’s voice is gentle and patient, heavy with sleep but still concerned. She doesn’t say a word as she follows Emily out of the car and into the outdoor picnic area.
They sit there in silence for a while, the brisk chill of the early morning air raising goosebumps along their exposed skin. The distant rumble of the highway washes down into white noise, blending in with the sounds of rustling leaves and singing birds overhead. Desperate to tamper down on the thoughts raging around in her head, Emily tries to ground herself through the sounds.
Hearing her breathing start to even out, Beca carefully places a hand on Emily’s shoulder, letting her know that she’s there if Emily needs her.
“Job?” she asks simply.
Emily nods.
“Want space?”
She shakes her head.
“Wanna talk about it?”
She shrugs.
“Come on, then. Let’s get coffee.” Beca pulls at Emily’s hand until she’s on her feet. She lets herself be dragged inside Starbucks, where Beca orders them two expensive lattes.
“There’s coffee in the car,” Emily says, breaking her silence at last. She hardly recognizes her own voice.
“Yeah, but that’s old Keurig coffee from home. This shit is the real deal.”
Emily shakes her head, knowing Beca’s just being goofy to try and cheer her up.
It’s been three months since Emily completed her master’s degree, three months since she passed her certification exam for music therapists, three months since she started cracking down on applying to jobs. Since the profession isn’t exactly overflowing with job openings, the application process is long, rough, and competitive; it took Emily hours to complete just one application form.
But it’s not the lack of job offers that has her anxiety acting up. Surprisingly, a good number of hospitals and clinics replied to her application almost immediately, offering her administrative positions that weren’t exactly what she applied for but left room for potential future growth. It’s not how she wanted to kick off her journey into music therapy, but considering the tightness of the job market, Emily was willing to take what she could get.
Until that one job posting. A children’s hospital in upper Manhattan was looking for someone who perfectly fit Emily’s qualifications, from her education and certification down to her personal passion for the role. From the second she found that posting to the moment she came home from the interview, Beca had been her biggest cheerleader, giving pointers for her resume, coaching her through interview prep, and helping her with follow-up emails. It’s not Emily’s first job application rodeo by any means, but with the added pressure of this job being perfect for her, she leaned heavily on Beca’s support.
All she can do now is wait for their response. They’re supposed to get back to her sometime this week.
The week she and Beca had planned to go on this trip.
Beca holds out her hand for the keys. “I’ll take over until we get to Philly. If that’s cool with you.”
She’s obviously not in a place to argue. She passes the keys to Beca and slumps down in the passenger’s seat, feeling more useless than ever.
“Try and get some sleep,” Beca advises as she starts the engine and turning down the music.
Through it all, Beca had been a steady as a rock, unshaken in her resolve that the job is meant for Emily and that there’s no need to stress about it. “And even if it’s not, you still have jobs lined up for you,” she constantly assured. “Maybe it’s not your top choice, but it’s a step in the right direction, right?”
She’s absolutely right, and Emily’s infinitely grateful for the half-dozen job offers she’d gotten given that a lot of her classmates had worse luck looking for the same types of jobs, but there’s still the nagging thought that this is the job she needs if she wants to be worth anything.
Which is like, fine, she thinks sarcastically at herself. It’s not like Beca spent the better half of a month planning this 4-day road trip ending in a weekend at Emily’s parents’ house to celebrate their upcoming anniversary. It’s not like she made a whole-ass spreadsheet of all the sights they can see at every city they stop at. It’s not like Emily herself was over the moon about spending a whole week on the road with Beca, living out her last summer vacation before she entered the workforce and before Beca flew off to Europe for a month.
She stares blankly out the windshield, the turnpike flying by as Beca drives way too fast as usual, trying hard to clear her mind of the swirling mass of anxiety that took root there. There’s nothing for her to do except wait. She might as well just live in the moment and enjoy this trip while it lasts; whether or not she gets this job, she’ll be starting some kind of full-time position, which means vacation time’ll be much harder to come by.
Beca sings softly along to the radio, taking up the back-up vocals as if inviting Emily to join her with the main part.
She wants the job.
She really, really wants the job.
But she’s not going to let that thought ruin their vacation and their anniversary.
They pull into Philadelphia a little before noon. The streets are crowded and the drivers are reckless and aggressive; Emily can tell Beca’s clamping down on her road rage as much as she can.
“The food market is in a pretty busy part of the city, so we could park somewhere more chill and walk over,” she says, tone light even through her grinding teeth. “Or we could park at the hotel and take the subway over if that works better.”
“I’m okay with walking,” Emily says, just as a chunky Jeep cuts them off to speed through a yellow light.
Beca swears, finally snapping. “God, you’re ruining my life!” she calls after the Jeep, punching her horn.
Biting back a laugh, Emily rubs Beca’s shoulder. “One red light isn’t going to ruin your life.”
“It is if we don’t beat the lunch rush because of it,” Beca grumbles. But she leans into Emily’s touch and glances over with a strained smile. There’re a lot of unasked questions in that look, everything ranging from are you feeling better? to is there anything I can do?, but she mashes them all together and verbalizes it as, “Are you hungry?”
The light turns green and Beca floors it, sending Emily flying backwards. “I can eat,” she says, peeling herself off her seat. “Chloe recommended a great place to get pork sandwiches that are, quote, ‘to die for.’”
Beca scoffs. “She’s never been down here, so her opinion is invalid. Everyone knows the real staple of Philly is the cheesesteak.”
“Oh, because you’re such a Philadelphian.”
“Philadelphian?” she laughs.
“I dunno, what’s the equivalent of New Yorker for Philadelphia?”
“Don’t ask me, I’m apparently not Philadelphian enough to know.”
“A Philadelphian. A. Not just Philadelphian.”
Emily slaps at Beca’s arm as she cackles, hating and loving how she can make her smile over the stupidest things.
After lunch, they spend the rest of the day around the tourist hotspots, barely straying from the main part of the city. Emily had visited the historical monuments when she was little, but it’s Beca’s first time here; despite that, she pretends to give Emily a tour around Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell, narrating their importance through the role they played in the movie National Treasure.
“And that’s where Nic Cage illegally snuck onto the roof to dig out the bifocals from the wall.”
“Beca.”
“And down there’s where Boromir thought he was going to find the clue for the bifocals.”
“Beca.”
“What? Oh, wrong movie. Whatever, I never watched that one either. Hey, stop laughing, this is important American history you’re supposed to know.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
Beca smirks. “Yeah, but you love me.” Her eyes widen when Emily suddenly leans in for a kiss, cheeks flushing red at her sunny smile.
“Yeah. I do.”
Despite Beca’s protests, Emily insists on handling the drive down to Baltimore the next morning. With her driving much more carefully than Beca, it takes them a little over two hours to arrive; they’d skipped breakfast and Beca’s stomach is screaming by the time they pull into the National Aquarium.
“Lunch first, fish second,” she groans.
After an unreasonable amount of time spent in the aquarium, they emerge from the deceptive darkness into a late summer afternoon, wandering down to Fells Point where they walk lazily along the river. It’s a quiet and quaint neighborhood, and both of them get lost for a while in the local record shop.
They’d only planned for half a day in Baltimore before making the trip down to DC, but from all the time they spent in the aquarium and at Fells Point, it’s nearing 9pm when they finally set off for the capital.
DC is a day full of walking: walking around the zoo, walking past the monuments, and walking through at least three different museums.
Emily’s honestly impressed with how much forethought and planning Beca had put into all of these stops. There aren’t too many things on the list for it to be completely unattainable, but there’re also tons of options for cafes and small bites along the way. Though they’re much less frequent, bouts of uncertainty and anxiety still rake through Emily’s mind, leaving her exhausted and drained; the list of pit stops Beca had put together do wonders for her energy levels.
For a four-day detour from New York to Ohio, this is an amazing road trip. Thinking about it rationally, no one had ever done this much for Emily, gone this far to make her happy, stuck with her so patiently through everything.
And she feels like crap for letting her anxiety over a stupid job get in the way.
She has her good moments when she forgets about the anxious wait, when she forgets to check her e-mail notifications, when Beca’s ridiculousness requires her full attention and concern. Those are the moments she can sing along to their road trip playlist or counter Beca’s jokes with her own, truly living in the moment with the love of her life in these unfamiliar places, creating memories she’ll cherish forever.
But there are the bad moments when it all comes crashing back, when the pressure and helplessness of waiting start to overshadow the happy things that are happening in front of her, when there’s not enough white noise to pull her back from drowning in her doubts.
As if she has some sixth sense or low-level telepathy, Beca always seems to know when intrusive thoughts start to bother her. Emily eventually picks up on a routine she follows, where she would first reach for for Emily’s hand to make sure she’s okay with physical contact, then ask if everything’s all right, then start acting a downright fool no matter how Emily responds.
In Philadelphia she starts scaling the wall of the Magic Gardens to climb onto the ledges until she gets yelled at by security. In Baltimore she points to every penguin in the aquarium and gives them each incredibly human names, personalities, and back stories. In DC, she revists her fake tour guide personality to narrate the events of National Treasure: Book of Secrets.
Emily never thought it’d be possible to laugh her anxiety away, and even the thought of something so dumb making her so instantaneously happy has her smiling to herself. Safe in their DC hotel for the night, she turns her head a little to face Beca, lying on the other side of the bed.
“Hey,” she whispers through the darkness.
Not quite asleep but on the brink of unconsciousness, Beca hums out a question mark.
“I love you, Beca.”
There’s a short pause. Then, tons of rustling as Beca shifts over on the bed to curl into Emily’s arms.
“Mmmm. I love you too, nerd.”
Somewhere past the halfway point of their seven-hour drive from DC to Ohio, Beca suddenly slows down and pulls off the highway into an unmarked exit.
“What’s wrong?” Emily sits up, alert. “Where're we going?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Beca shrugs. “Just saw a sign, thought this place might be cool.”
It’s an unlit, bumpy dirt road where nothing is visible beyond the scope of the headlights. Nervous but trusting Beca to not get them murdered, Emily grips onto the edge of her seat as the car rocks against a bump in the road. It’s almost 8pm, they still have about three hours to go until they get to Emily’s hometown, but Beca seems relaxed and determined to get to wherever this road leads.
It doesn’t take long for the road to open up into an empty lot. There’re a few cars scattered around, its drivers nowhere to be seen.
“It’s supposed to be an outlook,” Beca explains as she cuts the engine. “To what, I don’t know.”
There’s really nothing to look at over the edge of the outlook; if there’s anything down there, it’s swallowed up by the darkness.
Up above, though, the stars shine brightly above the unlit countryside.
“Guess there’s not much here, huh?” Beca says sheepishly. “We can head back out.”
“No, let’s stay,” Emily says, smiling up at the stars.
They pull out a blanket from the trunk and hunker down on the stone ledge of the outlook, legs dangling over a steep and grassy hillside. The woods behind them ring with the cries of a million crickets and summertime bugs, but after so many hours driving on highways and exploring cities, it’s nice to be surrounded by nature for a change.
It’s a while before either of them speak.
“I don’t want to reassure you with overstated empty promises,” Beca starts softly, still gazing at the stars. “And I know you know that I believe in you, that I think you’re gonna kick ass no matter where you work. But I also know you’re perfect for that job, that you have the grades and the experience and that....that MB-TC certification thing tacked onto your name, right? That’s like, a huge deal.”
Emily breathes out a small laugh. “MT-BC, Becs. Music Therapist-Board Certified.”
“Man. You millennials and your acronyms,” Beca pretends to whine. “But yeah, that. You have everything it takes to fill that job position. They’d be lucky to have you, dude.”
“But what if I don’t get it?”
“Then we’ll cry and order too much takeout and rewatch Gilmore Girls in its entirety. It’ll be great, I’ll bring the tissues.”
“Gee, thanks,” Emily says sarcastically. Shaking her head, she glances at Beca’s smile and feels her heart lighten. “For real, though. Thanks,” she says. “Not sure if you enjoyed being an absolute clown through this whole trip, but...it helped. You helped. A lot.”
“I’m allowed to be a kid sometimes,” Beca says defensively.
“You’re literally turning 30 in like, two months.”
“Shhh!” She lightly shoves at Emily’s arm. “That’s a secret!”
“Why are you like this?” she giggles, shoving her back.
An hour flies by before they realize what time it is, and they scramble back to the car to finish their drive back to Ohio, Emily’s head buzzing a little less with Beca’s words floating around.
Emily thinks it’s weird that they’re having lunch with her parents on their anniversary, but Beca doesn’t seem to mind at all.
“I mean, we have the night to ourselves,” she says distractedly as she drives, speeding through Emily’s neighborhood to get to the restaurant on time. “And besides, this whole trip started because they invited us over for our anniversary. Isn’t this what they had in mind the whole time?”
“More like, they wanted to see if we’d survive our decision to impulsively marry,” Emily jokes darkly.
“Well I think it’s delightful of them to take us out to lunch,” Beca says brightly.
“Ew, why’re you talking with a British accent?”
“Because I’m a fancy bitch, babe.”
Heaving out an exasperated laugh as they pull into the restaurant parking lot, Emily checks her phone to make sure she didn’t miss a call from her parents.
And she immediately stops breathing.
There’s a new e-mail from the hospital.
Beca peers at the restaurant through her window. “This place looks super fancy and out of my league,” she says, yanking the key out of the ignition. “Should’ve worn the spare ballgown I packed.”
Fingers shaking and pulse pounding in her ears, Emily opens the email. Her mind is spinning too fast for her to properly read the words in the message, but she catches enough words to get the gist of it. She reads it again to make sure she got it right. And again. And again.
Beca wanders over to the passenger side, frowning. “Em?” she taps on Emily’s window. “You coming?”
Emily hardly hears her. Practically suffocating on her heart, Emily throws open her door, grazing Beca’s arm, and tackles Beca in a hug so hard they almost tumble to the ground.
“Ow! Oh, my god, what the hell?”
“I got it!” she squeals, holding Beca tighter. “I got the job!”
“What?”
“I got the job I got the job I got the job!”
Beca sounds like she’s suffocating, but she still manages to choke out her excitement. “Holy shit! What! Holy shit, congrats!” She lets out a deep breath when Emily lets go. “See, I knew you were perfect for —”
Emily can’t even wait for Beca to finish her sentence before she pulls her up into a kiss, trying to convey how thankful she is to have her by her side, to have her supporting her, to have her in her life, forever and always. Beca practically melts into the touch, body going limp when Emily deepens the kiss.
A car pulls out behind them and they break apart, realizing how public this place is. Beca’s eyes are glazed over. “Wow,” she breathes, blinking rapidly. “That was...wow.”
“Yeah,” Emily agrees. “Happy anniversary.”
Beca laughs as if she just remembered that’s what they’re here for. “Yeah, happy anniversary, Emily.”