“Girl, how are you?”
“Terrible, but you sound worse.”
In the background, Brittany Dawn and Marius were screaming at each other.
“As a communications major, I have a few ideas for how to make this a nonissue at the company,” I told her. “Do you have a pen and paper?”
“You’re doing Grayson a favor?” McKenna asked in surprise after I detailed my plan. “After everything he did to you? Let him burn!”
“I’m not doing this for him,” I said angrily. “I would let him hang. I’m doing it for you. Make sure you tell Grayson that he owes you a big promotion, a huge raise, and a bonus when you fix this for him.”
“Flight D528 to Orlando,” the flight attendant announced.
“Say hi to your mom and dad for me,” McKenna said.
The plane ride to Florida was bumpy. I spent it huddled in my seat, head against the window, Gizzy in my lap.
I had failed. I was a failure.
I lost everything. Especially Grayson.
Did you ever really have him, though?
Gizzyand I were the only passengers on the small propeller plane that made the biweekly flight into Dudley Grove.
“I was going to cancel the flight,” the pilot hollered to me as I stepped up onto the noisy aircraft, “since you brought the terrible weather with you from New York. But don’t worry, I’ll getcha home.”
My parents were waiting on the tarmac with signs. My dad was wearing a Goofy poncho complete with floppy plastic ears and buckteeth while my mom was in her Little Mermaid poncho.
I shouldered my bag and picked up Gizzy to carry him down the steps.
“Squeaky Mouse,” my dad cried when he saw me. I fell sobbing in his arms.
“Aw, Squeaky Mouse,” he said, petting my damp hair.
“It can’t be all bad,” my mom coaxed. “We have each other, and you’re home here in Dudley Grove. The weather’s not nice today, but I bet the sun comes out tomorrow.”
“I can’t deal with your toxic positivity,” I shrieked at her. “And the sun isn’t coming out tomorrow because I checked the weather report, and it’s raining for the next ten days.”
“Alexandra …”
“She’s having a bad day. Just let her be, Cindy,” Dad said.
“I can hear you,” I yelled.
“I made homemade orange chocolate thumbprint cookies,” my mom said. “Why don’t you eat some in the car?”
“I don’t deserve cookies,” I sobbed out. “I’m a fraud.” I took a gasping breath.
“No, you’re my princess. Sure, you’re having a setback, but New York is a tough city. You just need a break, and then you’ll go back to your fancy job and kick butt.” My dad punched me lightly in the shoulder.
“I can’t. I got fired,” I sobbed out.
“But you were doing so well,” my mom cried. “You were going to get a promotion.”
“I lied,” I choked out. “I lied about everything. I didn’t have a good job; my job fucking sucked.”
“Language, Alexandra,” Mom chided.
