“Oh, yeah, I have. They’ve offered me a three track deal, and are organizing for me to go on tour and open for Akira Rain.” She sips her water.
The three of us stare at her, jaws on the floor. It feels like we’re staring at her in silence for hours until Lizzie says what the rest of us are thinking.
“Akira fuckingRain?” She nearly chokes on her fries. “This is so unfair. First Cassandra marries an NFL legend, Olive’s going on tour with arguably the most popular musician of our generation and, Jenna, you’re basically dating an ex-model and Hollywood’s next heartthrob.” She slumps back into her chair, and I snort, while Tahnee sips her drink with her eyes darting between us.
“And here’s little old me just living a regular life while married to a boring accountant.” Tahnee sticks her tongue out at me, and I laugh, shaking my head.
“I’m not dating anyone,” I say as my phone vibrates on the table in the middle of us.
“I bet that’s lover boy now,” Tahnee replies, and I flip the phone over to see ‘Becky’ on the screen.
“Who’s Becky?” Lizzie and Olive ask in perfect harmony, you’d think they did it on purpose. Olive probably did.
“Her mom,” Tahnee answers for me.
Three pairs of eyes on me while I stare at the screen, not moving an inch to answer it.
“Are you going to get it?” Olive asks. I shake my head.
“She’ll call back if it’s important,” I say, flipping my phone over on the wooden table. It stops ringing, only for it to start back up again.
What if she’s dying?My brain goes to the darkest place automatically, but I ignore it, because she isn’t dying. Her doctor sends me updates to let me know her progress.
No guilt.
No guilt.
No fucking guilt.
“I think it’s important,” Lizzie says after Becky’s fifth attempt, and I groan when I see she’s left voicemails with each try.
“God dammit,” I whisper under my breath. “I’ll be back.” Pushing my chair out, the legs screeching along the rustic, wooden floor. I head for the exit, pushing the door open, and I stare at my phone in my trembling hand, accepting my mom’s sixth–and hopefully final—attempt to reach me.
“Hi,” I say, keeping my voice calm. It’s taken a lot of practice to get to this point, and I still don’t think I’ve mastered it.
“Hi, Honey,” she says, too cheery for her usual self. My steps falter on the gravel beneath my feet. I hate that all it takes is one silly nickname, and my mind tries to recall only the good, never the bad.
There is no good, there is no good.
There. Is. No. Good.
“Are you OK?” I blurt out, suddenly desperate for her to talk and tell me absolutely everything and anything she’s willing to.
“Let me talk to her,” I hear Mark’s voice in the background, and suddenly the nickname makes sense.
Of course it’s all for show.
“I’ve got it,” she tells him calmly. “We’re coming to town!” she exclaims, and I hear her hands clap together in the background.
“You’re…what? Why?” I croak out.
“Mark…well,wehave something to share with you, and things he wants to talk to you about.”
I mute the phone, and sigh.
“Oh, and he’s heard that there are a few famous basketball players that live in the town, so he wants to try to meet them.”
“Football players, baby.” I hear his voice again, and the sounds of kissing and her high-pitched giggles
