The Last Phone Booth in Manhattan

Oak scooted to the edge of the couch. “Why? Why didn’t you take the bling? I mean, the ring?” She sucked air through her teeth and grimaced. “Was it heinous?”

“No. God, no. It was beautiful.” Channeling the swept-off-my-feet exuberance of a lovestruck teenager, I threw myself back into the deflated couch cushions, recalling the feeling of the ring on my finger and the hopeful look in Gabe’s expression when he popped the question.

“So then what happened?” Lyla asked, reaching for Hank, who was slowly but surely making his way across the coffee table, and setting him back in her lap.

“He proposed and then dropped the bombshell that he’s moving to Washington, DC, for his dream job. He wants me to go with him.” I looked up and into their enthralled faces, eyes wide and mouths dropped even wider. “I should have just said yes, right? Gabe, my Gabe, wants to marry me and make a life with me. Why didn’t I just say yes?”

“Well, why didn’t you?” Sevyn asked, as if the answer was as obvious as the question.

“I don’t know. Everything about it seems . . . right. And yet, there’s something that just feels off. Maybe it hasn’t been long enough yet?”

“Haven’t you known the guy for like almost a decade?” Oak asked. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I figured when you know you like, know. And if you don’t know after this much time, maybe that’s all you need to know . . .”

“No, it’s not like that. I do love him and I do see a future with him. I just . . .” I grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Sevyn’s lap and shoved it in my mouth, chewing animatedly to buy myself a moment to sort out my thoughts. But try as I might, I couldn’t make sense of any of it. I swallowed and said, “The phone booth brought me to him. It led me to his damn door. If I’m not meant to end up with him, whether it’s in DC or Timbuktu, then I don’t know what any of this was for!”

Oak crooked a brow and leaned toward me. “Yeah, but didn’t the booth also lead you to your audition for Marley Is Dead? So I think there may be a hole in your theory.”

I spat out, “Orrrr, maybe it was just showing me how grueling and uncertain my life as a performer would be. Weeks of prep for a role I may not even get, and then I start again at square one, back at the bottom, singing for tips at Mimi’s. Maybe all of this was meant to tell me that a life with Gabe would be the best option in the end. A sure thing. Happiness wrapped up in a big red bow. It has to be that. It’s the only thing that makes any sense.”

Lyla, thoughtfully observing the exchange, chimed in and said, “I think you’re onto something there. Can I be brutally honest with you?” Lyla continued without waiting for my response. “You might get the role of Marley on Tuesday, but it’s even more likely you won’t. This industry can be a cruel and unforgiving slog, believe me, I know. I’m right there in the trenches with you singing for my supper. It’s rejection after rejection. But you . . . you have a real shot at happiness with Gabe. I guess what I’m saying is that it’s okay to get off the ride, Avery. Nobody will think any less of you if you decide to get off.”

“No! I got off the ride once, and I don’t want to do it again. This audition is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. How am I supposed to walk away now? Don’t I have to at least know how the story ends?”

Lyla scrunched up her face. “Let’s be real, hon, don’t you already know how it ends? You say yes, soar off into the sunset with your Prince Charming, and never look back.”

“I can’t do it. I would spend the rest of my life looking back,” I managed past the tears tightening in my throat.

Lyla set Hank down on the floor and crossed her arms in front of her chest, a smile erupting across her smug face. “Then I think you know what you need to do.”

I blinked hard. “Lyla Jeffries, did you just use some reverse-psychology Yoda mind trick on me?”

“Tricked you, I did and honest, you were.” She grinned devilishly, imitating the old green guru from Star Wars. “Seriously, though, deep down, you already know what you want.”

“But Gabe’s such a good guy. He’s everything Adam wasn’t. He’s genuine and cares so much about making the world a better place.”

“Just because someone’s good doesn’t mean they’re good for you. I’m not saying you don’t love Gabe, and I can’t give you an explanation for why he came back into your life.” She shrugged. “But you get to decide what your future looks like, not the booth.”

Sevyn shifted her feet off the couch and set the bowl of popcorn down on the end table. “I mean, so long as we’re dishing out some honesty, I’m not really feeling your new haircut.”

My hand shot to my head, surprised by the turn of conversation. “I—I didn’t get a new haircut.”

“Oh, well, um . . . I’m gonna get a refill on the cardbordeaux and grab some more snackies.” Sevyn hollered over her shoulder mid-scurry to the kitchen, “I’m restarting the show in five. Take a bathroom break if you need it!”

Lyla turned to me. “Ignore her. Your hair looks great. The audition’s in less than forty-eight hours. Go get a good night’s rest, and we’ll do one last run-through tomorrow at Mimi’s.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know if I’m ready. I botched the song at rehearsal today, and I’m still struggling to remember my lines.”

“You’re ready. You’ve prepared as much as any human possibly could. So now you need to stop thinking about it, and in the immortal words of Princess Elsa, it’s time to let it go.” Her eyes widened and she popped her index finger in the air to signal a flash of insight. “Ohhh, maybe I’ll perform that song tomorrow at the diner. It always kills with the matinee crowd, especially if I can convince Charlie to turn on the snow machine. He hates cleaning up the mess.”

I smiled. “Thanks, and I really appreciate the pep talk. I think I will turn in. I’ll catch the rest of the episode tomorrow. I’m invested now in what choice Gemma makes,” I said as I climbed off the couch and grabbed the empty popcorn bowl from the end table to take to the kitchen.

“Angus, if she knows what’s good for her,” Oak called out from the couch.

“Night, girls,” I said, chugging the rest of what was in my mug, the heavy red wine drying my tongue and sliding all the way down my throat with a warm heat. I put the cup in the sink and offered a wave as I padded down the hall.

I closed the door to my bedroom and slunk down on the bed. My thoughts drifted to Marisol, who always seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to my audition insecurities. Even when I said that things were going fine, somehow she always knew what was really bubbling underneath the surface. That’s when she would step in and help me see the world through her fearless eyes.

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