Half a year. A year, maybe.

That's how long I have to endure. After that point, I will have a solid, regular income. That's what the chief editor told me.

The meeting went fairly well. We failed to become best friends forever, but she was very appreciative of my works. And she said yes to them. And when she says yes, it's done. At least that's what she told me.

So, practically, I made it.

I still can't believe it. Okay, I can, but I can't feel it. It's just a piece of information to me, not a part of my reality.

I feel dizzy on my way home. I forgot to eat anything, so I eat up all the funny-smelling food the airline offers. Then I don't feel just dizzy, I feel a little nauseous too.

After landing, I rush to the seaside, even without changing clothes or putting my bag down. Because he's there. The most important man in my life.

Ben.

I notice him from almost half a mile away. He's playing soccer in the sand with three other children. I recognize him by the way he moves.

It's a beautiful afternoon. The sun's not set yet, but it's close to the horizon. When I get to the beach, I kick my shoes off. The sand feels wonderful under my feet. Every step is like a burst of life, running through my legs, into my body.

Suddenly I don't understand why I've never come here before. Ben was here several times with Ollie, but I guess I've been too busy with writing in my free time.

When my son notices me, he calls out and runs to me. He's hugging me tight, like a happy little monkey. He's covered in sand, and, after letting him go, so am I.

When he goes back to playing, I look for Mr. Warren. He's sitting just a few steps away, with a beer in his hand, looking totally chill.

"Hey, how did the business meeting go?" He grins at me.

I drop my bag and my shoes by his side.

"Fairly well," I answer warily.

"So," he says smiling, "how long is it until you become the most famous writer of all time?"

"Who knows?" I ask, trying to sound casual. "Did Ollie tell you about it?"

"It was Ben, but never mind. You don't have to answer. I don't want to be nosy."

"You're not nosy." I shrug, trying to find a way out of the awkward situation.

"Right." He nods. "If I were nosy, I'd ask you about how much time is left until we lose you."

I curse mentally. I wasn't prepared for this kind of conversation.

"A year, maybe," I sigh. "But nothing is decided until it happens, right? And I have a two weeks' notice, as far as I know, so..."

He laughs out loud.

"Yes, you have. It's a general practice at the firm."

It sounds so stupid, on a beach, after he looked after my son for two days, that even I notice the absurdity of what I just said. I try to look for an apology, but he's faster.

"Don't worry, it's okay," he says, still laughing. "The ocean kind of froze hearing it, but let it be a problem of the whales, right? What have those editors done to you? Did they trigger your survival mode again?"

"Kind of," I admit. "The chief editor was hard to deal with."

"Aw." He pouts. "Was he too much like you?"

I stare at him in disbelief. Then it slowly dawns on me that he's right.

"She." I shrug. "But yes."

"Oh. Is she dead yet? Or just under treatment?"

"She tried to stress me out. And I kept her from succeeding. That's all."

"All?" he asks, sounding suspicious.

"Yes. But it was enough. Her head almost exploded. You should have seen it."

"So," he says grinning, "it's official now. Being hard to stress out, is a proper weakness in the face of people with authority. I can't say you haven't warned me before I hired you."

"See?" I nod. "Now you know how utterly honest I am."

"Absolutely. And prudent. Let's not forget it. Very prudent."

I can't help but laugh.

"Who are the other children?" I ask him.

"They are from the team. It turned out that their parents were my classmates back in the day, so they were allowed to come with us. I'll drive them home later."

I breathe out slowly.

"Okay," I say a bit shakily. "I can hardly find the words to express how grateful I am for everything you did for Ben."

"You're welcome." He smiles. "But I kind of enjoyed the match. It wasn't as boring as usual. Everything is so much more interesting when the team you root for is hardly familiar with the rules, let alone the game itself."

"Ouch." I grimace. "Were they that bad?"

"They were tragic," he says cheerfully. "I've never seen anything like this. And, believe me, I've seen a lot, because I was in a pro team being a kid."

"Then how did they come in... you know... not last?"

"That kid, over there," he says, pointing at one of the boys playing with Ben, "is insanely fast. It was him. And him alone. He had no idea what he was doing, but still scored a few points."

"I'm sorry. I warned you it wouldn't be a great moment of pride for you."

"But it was," he insists. "They were trying. I was cheerleading like there's no tomorrow. It was great. And when they won that one single round, it felt like we were winning the Nationals."

"I saw the picture. They all looked like winners. You made them feel like that. Thank you, again."

He shakes his head.

"It was fun. But you... I don't know, you just don't look victorious enough. I guess it takes time to sink in, but hey, let me be the first to tell you: you're a famous writer! Amongst the very best. That's huge!"

The moment he says it, I finally feel it. It starts as a small tingling in my stomach, which expands into a vibrating force inside my chest. Suddenly everything feels easier. To stand. To breathe. As if the air itself expanded around my body, to provide me with more space.

It's still hard to believe it all. But everything seems a bit less impossible. I don't know, what does the trick, but having him sitting at my feet, staring up at me, with wide eyes, certainly helps. Now I'm feeling victorious enough. And I'm all emotional at once.

"Why don't you sit down?" he asks, probably seeing my legs going shaky.

"I don't feel like sitting down," I answer.

"What do you feel like, then?"

"I want to go into the ocean," I answer. "For the first time ever."

I wear a black sports bra and black wool panties. They will pass for a bikini.

I don't even turn around to take off my dress. I simply pull it over my head, facing him.

He looks a bit dazed. Before I head for the water, he bows his head. For a second, I imagine he's going to kiss my feet. I don't even feel it impossible. At the moment, feeling on top of the world, I don't feel anything impossible.

But, of course, he doesn't. He looks up, grinning from ear to ear.

"Go then," he says. "Conquer the ocean too, you merciless creature. I'll be waiting here."

I walk into the water without a hurry.

It's a powerful feeling. Like being part of something bigger than I am.

My tears blend with the salty water.

I feel alive.