She shakes her head. “You avoid or you overthink. There’s no in between with you.”
“That’s not true.”It’s so true.
Her eye roll says,Liar, but her mouth asks again, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure how I feel about this interview tomorrow.”
“I know compliments make you uncomfortable, so you need to promise to let me talk for a minute, and don’t you dare interrupt me.” It’s her mom voice.
I pause. And then nod.
“You’re worried, so you’re doubting yourself.Stop that shit. You’re overqualified for the job. It’s time for more, move up or move on. If this job ends—which I kind of hope it does, becausefuck them—you find something better. You find a company that appreciates you and isn’t toxic.”
“Finding a job that pays like this one will be impossible. The job market is competitive, and I don’t have a college degr?—”
Her index finger is lightning fast, pressing hard against my lips to cut me off because she’s tired of hearing this broken record. “We’re manifesting your destiny; negativity is not allowed while we’re mentally saging and prepping you to slay this interview.”
I lean back, but she follows, pressing my lips to the side. “What about being realistic; is that allowed? What about the rent? And my car payment? Also, I love eating,” I manage, though it’s garbled.
Her shoulders drop and with them her finger. “Why are you so pessimistic about optimism?”
I’m lying on my back, and she’s hovering over me. “Umm, because I’m a pessimist.”
Settling back into the cushion, she reaches into the popcorn bag next to her. “Fair point. But stop, it’s annoying. And unhelpful. We already know you could do Mark’s job in your sleep. The man is a?—"
Lola stops mid-sentence when we hear the front door slam, and Benji comes bounding down the stairs like a labradoodle, all legs and floppy hair. “Aunt Soph, you’re Insta famous,” he pants.
“Hands on knees and breathe,” Lola coaches.
He does as instructed, but not as long as he should. “I told Laurel about Thicker Than Water, and she told Natalie, and she told Amanda, and she told Kasey. And now Kasey is low-key obsessed. She’s stalking their Insta nonstop. Their followers have gone from five thousand last night to over one hundred thousand as of fifteen minutes ago when I left her house. It’s probably more now.”
“Wow, that’s awesome,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “That’s not the best part.” He stands to his full height and stretches his hands toward the ceiling, willing more air into his lungs. “Your Thicker Than Water post is blowing up.”
“How?” I ask, dumbly.
“Algorithms. Visibility. Sharing. It’s the perfect storm.”
“Huh,” is all I can say.
Benji snorts out a rare laugh. “Only you wouldn’t be fazed by this. This is how things get started. This could get big, Aunt Soph.” He pulls his phone from his pocket, taps on the screen a few times, and then turns the screen to face me and points to the number of followers on my page.
“Forty-eightthousand? That can’t be right,” I mutter, suspiciously.
Benji taps some more and brings up my Thicker Than Water post. “Over seven hundred thousand likes.”
“What does that even mean?What does any of this mean?In plain English, please,” Lola pleads like she’s geriatric and has never seen a social media account.
“Fluke,” I say at the same time Benji says, “Luck. Right place, right time.”
“And talent,” Benji adds quickly. “Your photos are phenomenal, Aunt Soph.”
Lola tosses the popcorn bag aside as she jumps to her feet and kernels spill out onto the rug.
“Wait, is this what happens when people start getting paid to post on social media? Like, could you become an impresser?Are you already an impresser?”
“Influencer,” Benji corrects.
