Skye: Walking out already, text me your room number
Janie: Stop for supplies
[Skye Liked “Stop for supplies”]
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“I got every flavor CVS had, I didn’t want to find a grocery store,” Skye says as she comes in carrying bags of ice cream pints and various flavors of Doritos in one hand. She has a huge bottle of wine in the other. She stops in her tracks when she sees me, “Oh crap, this might not be enough.”
I start sobbing.
Again.
She sits with me and rubs my back and hands me tissues as emotions run through me. Finally, when I can take full breaths, she sits back.
“First, we’re going to get out of that dress and into sweat pants.”
“Okay.” I say. After she helps me change, because I’m finding it hard to function, she pours the wine into the hotel coffee mugsand opens the ice cream cartons. She puts them in a line between us and we each grab a spoon.
“I don’t know if I can eat,” I admit.
“Alright, just tell me what happened.”
I inhale as deeply as I can but it’s shaky. “Well, he said he overheard you and me talking.”
“Ohhhh,” she starts to think through our conversation.
“Yeah. So he heard, Skye. He heard that I love him. And he said ‘Well, you were right, I am bored,’ and then he wired me all the money and left to spend Christmas in London!”
“Wait. He doesn’t love you back?”
“I mean, he was emotional about it but he was being honest. He said he’d always care about me and…and we could’ve worked in another life,” on the last word out of my mouth, the sobs come back. Skye hugs me through it, muttering about what an idiot he is.
Eventually I shake my head to disagree, “I can’t be mad at him for being him, right? I called it from the start. This was why I was guarding myself, keeping my distance.”
She grimaces, “But were you really?”
“Apparently not!” I cry out, gesturing at myself, a total wreck.
“As much as I want to hunt him down and cut off his ball sack, I feel like we should discuss the wiring of the money and the whole text threats from the mob. Can you please pay them? Like right now?”
I blink hard a few times to process what she’s saying.
All that debt, finally gone.
Yes.
“Yes,” I repeat out loud. “We should do that.”
“Okay, can we do a wire transfer?”
“Yeah, I think so, here,” I offer her my phone with trembling hands. She helps me find the message they sent with theinstructions for the first transfer. Then she scrolls through the barrage of reminders.
“They’re trying to charge you interest now?”
“I guess so,” I say, going numb.
She scoffs at my screen, “Did you have anything in writing?”
