In defiance, I picked up a chicken wing and ate it quickly, dropping the meat-free bone onto the plate.
Maysie was trying not to be obvious as she watched me but subtlety wasn’t her strong suit.
“Do I have bar-b-que sauce on my face?” I asked her pointedly, wiping at my lips.
Maysie flushed and looked ashamed. “Oh, no, not at all. They’re good right?” she fumbled, picking up a breadstick and shoving into her mouth.
“It’s cool, Mays. I get it,” I said, trying not sound irritated. All of my friends watched me. I felt their eyes. Their concern.
Is Gracie eating enough? Is she going to sneak into the bathroom and drink a fifth of Vodka? She’s looking so skinny, is she starving herself?
Everyone had those questions and I understood why. I wasn’t angry, just resigned that in the back of their minds those thoughts would always linger.
Mitch never looked at me that way. He never made me feel like I was under a microscope. He always made me feel…normal.
Ugh!
Why was I thinking of him so much lately? I had been good about blocking him out.
Lately I was starting to question things. Wondering whether I should do as Viv suggested, and finally talk to him. But so much time had passed. Too much time perhaps. I should have dealt with it a year ago but I had been barely able to pull myself together. I hadn’t been able to handle the implications of that one heart-wrenching night.
But I had done a lot of growing up in the last three hundred and sixty-five days. At some point I had stopped being the girl who forever swept things under the rug. I was trying to get a grip on my life and the thought had taken root that making things right with Mitch was an important step. And it seemed once I let Mr. Abrams back into my head, it was going to take an act of god to get him out again.
“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t get home until late and then I had to deal with the Viv situation.” I picked up another breadstick and ate this one a little slower.
Maysie cringed. “That’s why I left. I recognized that tone in her voice. I figured I’d better get out of there fast.”
“Well it was happening in our living room. There are some things I can’t tolerate. Communal masturbation is definitely one of them.” We both made a face.
“Does she still do that? Hasn’t she learned to keep that stuff behind closed doors?” Maysie groaned.
I licked Parmesan cheese off my fingers and took a drink of water. “Nope. I’m not holding my breath that she ever will.”
“Well, you think that’s bad, imagine having to hear them go at it from behind a tiny curtain on a tour bus. You think your apartment is close quarters, you have no idea.”
I shuddered. “We need to lock them up in a room. Away from people. We’ll call it a public service.”
We laughed because it was true.
“Maysie! I didn’t know you were in town!” a shrill voice interrupted. Our waitress, a thin girl with straight black hair was grinning from ear to ear. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in months!” Jaz Digby squealed, pulling Maysie to her feet and giving her a hug.
“Hey, Jaz. Yeah, I’m just here for the week. How have you been?” Maysie asked after sitting back down.
Jaz flicked her dark hair and put a hand on her hip. “Can’t complain. Even if I’m still working in this place.”
“Moore’s not a bad boss. It could always be worse, “ Maysie said, waving at the long time manager of Barton’s who was restocking the liquor behind the bar.
Jaz lifted her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “Yeah, well I’m getting married next year and we’re planning to move to the city. No more waitressing for this gal.”
Jaz held out her hand for Maysie and I to inspect her diamond-clad finger.
“Wow, impressive,” I told her.
Jaz beamed.
“I didn’t know you were dating anyone,” Maysie said.
Jaz blushed. “I’m marrying Eli.”
Maysie’s eyes widened and I frowned. Eli? How did I know that name?
Then it hit me.