When I trail off, Mabel takes me by the hand and walks me to the sofa by the front window. “Want to know what I would do?”
“Knowing you, go to Vegas, meet a billionaire, and get whisked away on a dream vacation to Paris?” I’m joking, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility for her.
“What kind of life do you think I’ve lived?” She chuckles, and then says with a wink, “Though I did go to Paris once with a man I’d only known a week.”
I laugh too. “See? You’ve lived, Mabel. So many adventures that if I hadn’t seen the photos or your old home movies, they wouldn’t even seem real. But me? I’ve been cemented here my entire life.”
“Sweetheart, don’t ever compare your life to anyone else’s. Like everyone, mine’s been full of joys and sorrows, heartwarming moments and plenty of heartbreaking ones too.”
“Did it ever scare you? You’ve always seemed fearless, Mabel.” She has courage in excess, but I’ve never asked her if doing the things she’s done scared her.
She scoffs, but smiles. “Oh my, yes. What’s life without a little fear? There’s no such thing. It reminds us of who we are and gives us a good slap when we need to put in some work. I learned early on that for me, a life well-lived meant acknowledging fear when it crept in, squaring off against it, whispering, ‘It’s time to raise some hell, Mabel,’ and going for it. So, when I say, I’m proud of you, it’s not because you’re going after something adventurous. I’m proud of you for facing the fear of the unknown and saying yes to something you’re passionate about. You never smile when you talk about your job, but when you told me about this opportunity,” she takes my hand and pats it, “your entire being lit up.”
“It did feel good,” I admit.
She stands, still holding my hand and kisses it. “It was beautiful, and you deserve it, sugar.” She squeezes and then releases my hand and crosses the room. “I need to get ready for bed.” She pauses after she opens the door and blows me a kiss, “Good luck tomorrow, Soph. Kick fear in the tush; it’s time to raise some hell, my dear.”
eleven
I brokedown and ordered a Nespresso last night because the thought of another week, especially this week, without early morning caffeine was horrific. Every time I looked at the counter, and it wasn’t there, I felt a pang of yearning. For good coffee, not my ex-boyfriend.
Which, despite my better judgment and the fact that I was riding the Good Guy high, made my spiteful side wonder about Chance.
And stalk him online.
At midnight when I couldn’t sleep.
More selfies.
With Ashton.
On a hike in Boulder Canyon. Chance doesn’t hike. The list of things he’s allergic to that grow in the wild is longer than my arm. We couldn’t even sleep with the windows open, because he got so stuffy he couldn’t breathe by morning. His watery eyes and red nose in the photos told me he was smiling through the misery. He looked thrilled to suffer in her company. I didn’t know whether to feel bad for him or me.
The next post was them at the zoo in front of the penguin exhibit. Penguins are my favorite, and he knows it.
Yeah, fuck him. And his allergies. And his new life.
I unfollowed and blocked him. And to take it a step further, I blocked and deleted his phone number too. What began as a petty move, ended up feeling liberating. I should’ve done it a week ago.
It’s six thirty in the morning and thanks to the freakishly fast delivery gods, the scent of brewing coffee is invading my senses. Considering I got a grand total of three hours’ sleep last night, I’ll need a few cups. I’ve already showered and under-eye gel patches are in place to deflate the tiny loaves of rising bread dough that puffed up below my lash lines overnight.
While I’m waiting for my cup to fill with liquid pick-me-up, I open my messages, randomly clicking on a few.
505_Miss_Understood
Who’s the band? There hot!
I whisper, both in agreement and to correct grammar, “Yes,theyare,” and scroll to the next.
i.love.beignets.more.than.my.boyfriend
Great photos! So happy I found your account!
Cute and relatable handle.
No Good Guy though; I’m sure he’s sleeping because it’s still early.
But there is an email response from the band, and my heart flutters again in my chest as I read:
