I think whoever was in here has left.
I hope.
I’m very grateful for you, I text to Miranda.
She’s the only person I’ve told about Abby Nora’s baby shower outside of my friends on the ship. So she’s the only person here at home who knows.
Miranda:Aw, I’m grateful for you too. Also, in case your mom hasn’t told you, they called your hotel this morning to pay your bill.
I cringe.
Me:Do they realize how controlling this looks? Mom’s trying to convince me I need to let her buy me a house in Heartwood Valley.
The response is quick enough that I guess she’s doing voice-to-text.
Miranda:I had a ton of fun with you at lunch yesterday and definitely want to do it again every week, so I hope you understand how much it costs me to tell you that I think your only option is to run away to Canada but tell them you’re in Napa.
I completely relate to what she’s saying.
I hesitate just a moment, then reply.
Me:I loved spending time with you too, and I need you to know I’d say that regardless of how many other friends I do or don’t havehere. You’re not a consolation prize, okay? You’re pretty damn awesome.
Miranda:Oh, I know. You’re very lucky I find you tolerable.
I crack up again because I can picture her grinning as she says it.
I send her a heart emoji, then pop over to my hotel app.
And—yep.
She’s right.
My credit card has been replaced by a number I don’t recognize with my mom’s first initial and last name attached to it.
On the one hand, I’m grateful that my parents care and want to help take care of me.
But on the other, I already feel like a fuck-up for losing one job because I’m pregnant—which happened during a one-night stand that turned out to be a poor coping mechanism for losing my bestie—moving home, and then getting fired from another job.
There’s nothing wrong with accepting help.
But I don’tneedhelp.
And I don’t want the complicated feelings of obligations to go with it.
Especially because Idosometimes feel like I had an unfair advantage when Mom married a man who paid for culinary school for me, then pulled some strings to get me the interview with Lusso Cruises.
I want to visit my parents because I want to see them. Not because I need things from them. Not because I want to use their connections. And I don’t want those lines to get blurry.
But they know everyone. And anyone they don’t know would recognize their names.
And that’s what has me returning to the message from Holt.
He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know who I’m related to.
He’s not someone who’s offering me a place to stay because my parents asked him to. Not someone who has any connections to Abby Nora. Not someone who will care one way or another what happens to me in the coming months.
Not someone who will be there every day for the next month. Month and a half, even. He said six weeks.
