Everyone is singing his praises. Hannah calls me, saying that Prism is fielding hundreds of requests for press for McCarthy.
Too bad I’m not there to reap the rewards of my hard work.
I reach for another zucchini.
“Is it this big?” Granny Mavis cackles as I carve up the zucchini for the three thousand gallons of zucchini relish my mom is canning.
Too bad I’m not actually independent. It’s one thing to move back into your childhood bedroom if your parents live in a nice suburban house. It’s another to move back into your childhood bedroom when it’s uninsulated and filled with geriatric rescue chickens.
“Jenna-bug, I’m so glad you moved back home.” My mom squeezes me. “Once you’re done with those zucchini, pack your bags. We are going on a feminine mystic retreat to celebrate the ending of this chapter of my life before I merge my soul with Zephyr’s.”
“You mean a bachelorette party,” I say, feeling the crushing weight of the disappointments of my romantic life.
Mallorca Cabo? Shoot, Las Vegas? No. A nude forest retreat in rural Oregon. My eye’s twitching. All I can think about are ticks crawling up my snatch.
Zephyr swoops in. “Actually, dear heart…” He gives my mother a kiss. “I need Jenna to help with managing the volunteers at the senior dog center farm this week. We’ve had an influx of volunteers and donations because of her post for McCarthy.”
My mom pouts. “But the retreat.”
“So sorry I have to miss it. Maybe another time…”
Like when I’m extremely desperate, which, if I have to keep reading all these messages and watching all these Instagram videos of girls online lusting over McCarthy, is going to be sooner than we all think.
“What if I made a mistake?”Hannah and I are scrubbing out dog bowls in the outdoor horse trough.
Elderly dogs mill around slowly, wagging their tails or lying out in the sun to warm old bones.
“You’re seriously falling in love with the version of the man you fabricated for PR?”
“When you put it like that, I sound delusional.” I sputter as water splashes back from the spigot and sprays me and Truman, who is perched on the edge of the trough.
He barks at the water and tries to bite the spigot.
“No! Maybe I should go on the retreat.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything, but I don’t think your hair can handle being outdoors for five days.” Hannah rinses off a bowl.
“What’s the point of taking care of it?” I groan, adjusting my hat over the rat’s nest. “Let’s face it. Every relationship I ever had has been a disaster, each one worse than the last. I’m not wife material. I’m just, I don’t know, the type of girl a guy uses. I’m the seat filler until a guy’s one true love comes along. I’m never going to have a happily ever after.”
I stack up three clean metal bowls. “I can’t even be Miss Independent, because I have no job, no savings, and an ungodly amount of credit card debt. I spent all day yesterday selling vegetables on the side of the road so that I can pay for my Netflix subscription.”
“Seems like that might be something you need to cut from your budget, maybe?”
“I need it to disassociate from living with my mom at the compound,” I cry. “Don’t judge me.” Now I’m really crying, big, heaving sobs.
“It will be okay.” Hannah rubs my back. “You need to call an employment lawyer. Prism can’t just fire you like that.”
“I screwed up.”
“No,” Hannah says, “Bethany unfairly targeted you because of her husband. It was a hostile workplace. They got a ton of new clients because of your post for McCarthy. I bet they pay you a few thousand dollars to go away if you threaten that you’re going to hire a lawyer.”
I sniffle. “I could use a few thousand dollars.”
“I’ll help you write an email tonight.”
“Can you help me with my dating profile too?”
“Oooh, we’re getting back on the wagon, huh?”
