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“That’s great! This is exactly what I was talking about earlier, we need to manifest this type of shit,” she says excitedly.
“Yeah, maybe. Don’t you think it’s weird that he doesn’t ever talk to me and now out of the blue he wants to help me?” I say, skeptical.
“Maybe he wants a piece of something else on the side.” She raises a suggestive eyebrow at me.
“Rosie! No, he most definitely does not,” I say, blushing.
“Let’s face it though, the man is hot. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t jump on that if the opportunity came up.”
I laugh and scrub my hands down my face. “Isn’t he ten years older than us? That might be a little weird. Plus, I have a boyfriend.”
“Not for long, I hope.” She loops her arms around mine, dragging me out the back door to our cars.
“Yeah, I hope so too.”
“Would it be so bad moving in with me?” Rosie asks.
I shake my head and squeeze her arm. “Of course not, you know I loved living in the dorms with you.”
Rosie and I met our freshman year and became fast friends after just one day when we helped each other unpack. Rosie is more of a social butterfly than I am, so she immediately befriended our RA and other people on the same floor, getting us party invites in the process. It wasn’t until I had to go back to Michigan and take care of my dad after his heart attack that I stopped living with her. When I returned, after having missed important games and development, I had lost my scholarship and my full ride, which included the dorm.
I was working as many jobs as I could and taking out whatever student loans I could just to rent a shitty apartment and pay for my credits. It was around then that I started dating Brody and ended up moving in with him and his roommates.
It’s crazy to think that only a year has passed since then. And only two months since I started working full time at the club that promised me relevant experience that would count towards my LPGA certification hours. Through it all, Rosie has been there for me. I cherish our friendship more than anything because she’s genuine. Even when we fight, she’s still honest with me.
The topic of breaking up with Brody has come up at least twenty times in the last couple of weeks, and while I agree with her and know that I need to end that relationship, I don’t want to deal with the confrontation or the fallout yet.
Rosie senses my mood shift and drops the subject. “Maybe if we get out of work early tomorrow we can head to that new bookstore?” Rosie asks as we unlink our arms in the parking lot.
“That would be nice.” I smile wistfully and give her a hug.
“Love you, text me when you get home.”
“Love you too,” I reply, and get into my rusty Toyota. I turn the key in the ignition and quietly chant, “Please, please, please.” The car starts on the second try and I let out a relieved breath. At least I don’t have to beg someone to jump-start the shitty battery for me.
The drive is short, but it’s the perfect time to call and check in on my dad.
“How’s my little baby?” he says in lieu of hello.
“Dad, I’m twenty-four, not a baby anymore.”
“You’ll always be my baby,” he says.
I can picture him sitting in his recliner at home, watching something on the TV. Hockey, if I had to guess.
“How was work?” he adds.
“Ugh, long. Tiring. I need a vacation.”
“Any plans to come home for the summer?” Dad asks hopefully.
It breaks my heart every time he asks. How can I tell him that I can’t? That I need every penny to dig myself out of my financial hole and follow my dream? And it’s all because of my mom’s choices.
“What if I take a longer trip at Christmas?” I ask, hoping he can’t hear the dread in my voice. I likely can’t make it then either.
“That would be nice, you love Michigan winter.”
Dad is right, I do love winters, and while we get plenty of them in Connecticut, they’re never quite as charming as the ones I grew up with.
