“That’s too bad. When’s the last time you talked to her?” I want to keep her talking about something other than me.
“Oh, not since she left my apartment a few weeks ago. She does this sometimes. She’ll go a year and not talk to me and then come back into town like nothing happened. It’s pretty annoying, but I realize she’s working through her own life stuff. It’s just hard because she’s the only family I have left, and she hardly seems to care most of the time.”
“That’s too bad.” I hum empathetically. “I always wanted a sister. It sounds like I didn’t miss out on much, though.”
“Oh, I love her. We love each other, we just can’t live with each other. Even as kids, we fought and fought.” She pushes a hand through her wavy blond hair. “We have a lot of good memories too, though.”
“Families are so complicated,” I offer. “That’s why I was thinking volunteering at the shelter—working with women in need—maybe it would fill something inside me that’s been empty.” I look around the rooftop, so many well-dressed men and women chatting and drinking and eating. “I have so much access, I could help advocate on their behalf. And they would be helping me as much as I’m helping them. Spending time at the shelter and hearing some of their stories…” I pause for effect. “I realize I’ve been living such an emotionally unhealthy lifestyle. So much of my self-worth has been plugged into my brand, into what strangers think of me on the internet. It feels like I’ve been living a fake life and I want to stop, but I don’t know how.”
A long pause lingers between us as the waiter pours more wine into both of our glasses. When he’s gone, I begin to wonder exactly what he’s overheard. I feel on edge, like I can’t trust anyone. And I think it’s because Tahoe is so far removed from the rest of the world that I like it.
“Talking to those women gives me hope that I can get back to normal again. If I can vow to stay off social media—take a long hiatus—it will be good for me, and I think I have a chance at succeeding here. If I go back to LA, I’m just going to backslide into depression and ruminating over what went wrong with us.”
“Us?” She hums like she’s forgotten who I’m speaking about. What the hell are all of those notes for if she’s not going to remember the specifics of my situation?
“Dean and me.”
“You still think of him?”
“Yes.”
“Often?”
“Yes.”
“And you still think of the two of you as anus?”
“I’m afraid I always will,” I confess.
“A divorce is likely one of the hardest things you’ll endure,” she muses.
“I’m still bitter about what he did and how he handled things.”
“I know.” She lets my thoughts linger. “But he’s moved on, hasn’t he? I think the more you can train your brain away from thoughts of Dean and focus on the things you can control?—”
“I can’t control anything. I feel powerless. I just want to… I don’t know. I just want to…make it all go away.”
She nods, holding her wineglass in one hand and watching me with curious intent. “I think it’s important that you live in reality, Shae. Try to take each moment as it comes and not live in your mind so much. Some people lose themselves when they spend too much time thinking and not enough time living.”
“I know,” I spit. “That’s why I’m throwing away my phone. Or at least thinking about it. I realize now that the world I created virtually is impacting my reality in ways I didn’t anticipate. It’s like I’m manifesting—ah…never mind. I’m ready to close the book on this stage of my life, is all I’m saying. I’m ready to shut down the Mia Starr brand.”
Shit.I know I’ve made a mistake as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I’ve been careful to avoid using the name of my online persona. I assess her reaction, trying to determine whether she’s picked up on my slip of the tongue.
“That sounds like a good idea,” is all she says.
“I may never own another phone. And I’ll never touch social media again. I really feel like I’ve turned a page. Leaving Chicago was the best thing for me.”
“Social media isn’t a bad thing when it’s managed the right way.”
I let her words sink in, still trying to figure out if she’s here as a friend, therapist, or as something else entirely.
“I just don’t think it’s a smart move for me. I’m afraid if Iwent back to social media, I might be tempted to…” I can’t exactly tell her I would be tempted to take on a new identity. Living someone else’s life, at least for a little while, is so alluring. Who knows what bad things could happen next time? So I’m committed to making sure there is no next time.
“Tempted to what?” Kelly probes.
“Tempted to let it take over my life again,” is all I say. I’m suddenly uncomfortable with her here. I’m sure I’ve revealed too much. “I think this wine has gone to my head. I should probably turn in for the night.”
“Okay. I think I’ll finish my glass before heading down. Do you want my keycard?”
