“I’m fine.”Liar.
Such a liar. I fought off the irrational urge to run into his arms.
He shifted from one foot to the other and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Your husband almost ran over me backing out of the driveway. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Oh, I’m sorry about that. We had a fight.”
I stopped short of telling him about the divorce. Who was he to know my business?
I put out a foot to keep Lucky from darting outside.
“I’m sorry if I intruded,” he said, taking a step back.
“No, that’s okay. Sorry about my idiot husband.”
“Uh, I work from home, so I’ll be just one yard away if you need me.”
“Thank you for that, but I can handle it.”
Neither of us knew what to say, so he nodded and turned toward his house. I closed the door and leaned against it, sliding all the way down to the floor. Lucky rubbed around me, then nipped at my elbow as a reminder that the later I’d promised earlier had come and gone, but the bottom of the food bowl could still be seen.
I picked up the cat and hugged her. She tensed but then settled into my arms, purring loudly as if she knew her human needed support. After she deemed I’d had enough purr therapy, she lightly bit the hand she wanted to feed her.
“Oh, all right,” I said as I got up to feed the cat, which was apparently the first step in putting my life back together. Once I’d poured out some kibble, I did something I never, ever did: I left a mess rather than immediately jumping in to put things to rights. I was about to put my phone on Do Not Disturb and go back to bed when the radio station called.
Well, well, well.
Maybe I did want to go on that morning show after all. Dick dentist be damned, I told Yvonne that I would happily join their radio program tomorrow.
Then I called the first person on Mom’s list of lawyers: Paloma Carter.
Once I’d made an appointment with a lawyer and cleaned up the wreckage of Hurricane Mitchell, I finally found the courage to see what was happening with my video. I sat down at my desk and opened the laptop. I leaned back with closed eyes and muttered something akin to a prayer before checking the number of views.
The numbers increased steadily with each blink. At this point, my video had over two million views and had just popped up under “Trending.” I looked at my phone, wondering why it had stopped buzzing.
Oh, yeah. I had put it on Do Not Disturb.
With a deep breath, I turned on my phone: over a hundred missed calls.
Five were from Mitch, one voicemail.
Well, that was one message I didn’t need to listen to.
I started to put the phone back on Do Not Disturb, but I hesitated. Instead, I went to YouTube to see if they were reviewing my account for monetization.
They were.
But everything I’d read before said I would need more content, probably a lot more videos.
And what if my sober videos didn’t generate any views? What if I’d already peaked in my brief YouTube career?
No way to find out other than to try a few more videos.
I absently scrolled through the comments. Most of them were some variation ofYou go girl!orYou’re better off without him.My eyes misted up, and I sat up a little straighter. People I’d never met were encouraging me. Except for some asshole named Chad, whose comment on my video was,Maybe if you were a real woman, your husband wouldn’t be leaving you.
Go kick rocks, Chad. Put on sandals before you do.
Then there was Penelope:Back in my day young ladies knew how to keep their private business private.Why had Penelope chosen to watch my videos since everything was clearly much better back in her day?
