Blast From The Past 1 by Faith Winslow

~ Chapter 1 ~
     
    Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania—home of the Three Rivers, Steelers football, and pierogis; bedrock of Iron City Beer and every fathomable Heinz product; backdrop to several Hollywood hits, including Christopher Nolan’s Batman Trilogy, Silence of the Lambs , Night of the Living Dead (1990 remake), and, of course, Flashdance . Some folks call it a little big city; others call it a big little city. Whatever the case, I was about to call it my city… again.
    About ten years ago, I left my home in Mason, Ohio, and traveled nearly three hundred miles east to attend college at the University of Pittsburgh. Four years later, I graduated cum laude with a B.S. in computer science, and I scored a pretty decent job back in Cincinnati, at a tech firm right outside my hometown. So, right after I earned my degree, I packed up my stuff and left Pittsburgh—and, I never turned back.
    But, six years later, I found myself ‘Burgh-bound again—only, I wasn’t just going back. I was moving back, and I was about to make my former stomping grounds my home. I’d just landed a dream job at a dream company, and, even though it meant relocating and starting over in a not-so-new place, I would have been a fool to have turned it down.
    And, since I had to start over, I decided to start over completely. Moving to Pittsburgh was going to be a new beginning for me, and it meant a lot of things were going to change—starting with my name.
    My name is Patricia Williams, and, for most of my life, I’ve gone by “Patty.” But, when I took the job in Pittsburgh, I decided to switch things up a little. Call me crazy, but I decided to change my name, or at least what people call me.
    Instead of going by “Patty,” I would go by “Trish.” Why? Well, first of all, it had a nice ring to it… Trish Williams . It sounded contemporary and cool, and it was just mainstream enough, but still kinda different. Second of all, I really didn’t want to be Patty anymore.
    Granted, I had a lot of good memories of being Patty, and of hearing people call me that—like when my grandmother used to call me on the phone and say, “Hey there, my little sugar patty,” or when my little sister thanked me in her valedictorian speech at her high school graduation. But, I also had a lot of bad memories associated with the name “Patty” too.
    “I love you, Patty,” is what my boyfriend Erik used to say to me when he dropped me off at home and kissed me goodnight at the end of the evening.
    “I’m here for you, Patty,” is what my best friend Sasha used to say to me whenever I went to her to discuss my problems.
    And, “Oh my God, Patty! Wait!” is what they both shouted when I showed up at Erik’s apartment unexpectedly one afternoon and caught them fucking.
    You see, Patty was the kind of girl who didn’t know that her boyfriend had been sleeping with her best friend for over a year—and, Patty was the kind of girl who was completely devastated when she found out. She was the kind of girl who missed Erik after they broke up, and was jealous when she learned, six months later, that he and Sasha were engaged.
    But, Trish? Trish was nothing like Patty. Trish wouldn’t have put up with their bullshit, and she wouldn’t have been so hurt by what they did. She would have been able to move on and overlook it, like water under a bridge. She would have been able to get past it.
    Trish was a no-nonsense kind of girl—and, when I left Cincinnati, that’s exactly what I wanted to leave behind… all the nonsense.
    So, with that in mind, I arranged for a place in Pittsburgh, settled my affairs in Ohio, and donated most of my furniture to a thrift store, and most of my clothing to my sister. I packed up what was left of my belongings, which wasn’t much, and started fleshing out my new life.
    I ordered some dress-to-impress power suits and several avant-garde outfits from a department store website, got my hair cut and flavored it with some caramel