“And now it’s on her Facebook page.” Destiny sighs and I know it’s because she feels protective of me. “Have you seen it?” she asks.
“I haven’t been on Facebook,” I say, lying. In truth, I’d been stalking my own Facebook and Twitter pages to the point of obsession, getting up at all hours of the night to find out what people were saying about me and what Rachel was saying about me. But I’d finally forced myself to stop after John caught me in the middle of the night hunched over my cell phone on the edge of the bathtub scrutinizing yet another TwitPic of Charlie and Rachel together.
“Her fans are going crazy over her relationship with Charlie. There’s even a poll, and people are voting on whether or not they should be dating.”
“Oh? And what is the poll showing?” I try to sound nonchalant as I lean in closer and breathe in Destiny’s signature Chanel scent, strong and sultry at the same time, just like her.
“It’s neck and neck,” Destiny replies casually.
“What would your vote be?” I ask quietly, Destiny’s opinion suddenly meaning more to me than I realized.
“The jury’s still out for me because of how things ended last time. But I will say that there’s something different about her lately. She seems so open and warm and relaxed, not only with Charlie, but with all the celebrities she’s been interviewing. You should’ve seen her with Melissa McCarthy.”
I feel a twinge in my stomach. Maybe it’s time I face the fact that Rachel is a better version of me. “You don’t think she was any of those things before?” I brace myself for her answer, knowing that she has every right to say I wasn’t putting in my best work in the last several months, phoning in many of my interviews, asking predictable, boilerplate questions, especially right after Charlie and I broke up.
“Of course she was,” she says slowly, like she’s talking to a child, and I feel the tension in my shoulders release, surprised by how much I still need that validation. “You of all people saw that side of her. But I used to think that you and I were the only ones who would ever see how warm and caring she really is, and now she’s showing that real side of herself to everyone.”
“I understand,” I say, remembering the night after Charlie and I first kissed, how he’d pulled back and seen the frightened expression on my face. He’d brushed a strand of hair away from my eyes and as if he’d read my mind, he’d told me not to worry, that this would be our little secret and that no one at work would have to know. I’d hated that I didn’t correct him, that I didn’t say, “It’s okay, I’m falling for you and I don’t care who knows.” But I couldn’t say that because I did care. I cared too much.
“And that’s why all the doors are opening for her now.”
“What?” I say as I grab her arm. “What doors?”
Destiny’s eyes dart back and forth and she knows she’s said too much. “Nothing,” she backtracks. “It was just a figure of speech.” But the right side of her mouth tilts up to the side, a sure sign she’s lying. “Look!” she points to the doorway and Audrey floats out in a black organza halter dress with soft flowing ruffles that cascade toward the floor. She twirls around to reveal an open back and I mentally calculate how much of Audrey’s exposed skin John will be able to tolerate. I think of Chris McNies setting his hand on the small of her naked back and get a sick feeling that I try to push away.
“What do you think?” she asks, beaming from ear to ear.
“It’s gorgeous,” I say. “And so are you.”
Destiny holds her phone up to snap a picture. “Fabulous!” she cries as she hits a few buttons. “Just sending it off to your aunt.”
“Where is she?” Audrey sighs, her tear-filled eyes meeting mine in the mirror. I’m suddenly struck by how hard it must be for Rachel to watch her daughter wanting someone else to be there for her more than her own mother.
I glance at the text message from Rachel saying again how sorry she is that she isn’t here. As I watch Audrey turning in front of the three-way mirror observing her body from all angles, a shy smile forming on her lips as she falls in love with the Michael Kors dress, I wonder why Rachel doesn’t seem to realize what she’s missing. I know she and Audrey have struggled this past year, but it’s missed moments like these that Rachel won’t be able to get back. Doesn’t she understand that a blurry picture on a BlackBerry isn’t going to properly capture the dress, let alone the moment? I shake my head, wondering how many of these moments in my own life I’ve missed.
“Is this the one?” I ask, already knowing the answer.