Cyndi and Sharon were in their late forties. If you saw them in a restaurant, you would think they were just friends. Cyndi looked like a less glamorous Julia Roberts, and Sharon resembled her slightly thicker, more stylish sister with blonde hair. They looked and acted like buddies, so when they did partake in public displays of affection, people sort of looked on in shock. I thought it was cute.
“Have you been eating? You’re skin and bones,” Sharon said as she tugged at the skin on my hip. Needless to say, they loved their parental roles. I never really had parents, and they never really had kids, so it was great for all of us.
I smiled wide. “Actually, I had a Big Mac for lunch, but then I puked it up.”
They looked at each other, horrified, and then they scanned me from top to bottom. Cyndi put her hand on her hip and gave me her best concerned face. “Bulimia is no laughing matter.”
“I’m not bulimic. I just had a weird day. A horrible day, really.”
“Tell us everything,” Sharon said, pulling Cyndi onto the couch. “We’re certainly not going to read it in any journal of yours.” They both stared up at me, gripping each other’s hands like they were about to watch a movie about the Holocaust.
“Well, I decided to go see Jase at his book signing here in town and ask him why he lied about what happened between us in his novel. And then I saw him and he looked like a fucking supermodel. And then Trevor showed up and asked me to marry him. And then Jase wrote me a note. And then I read it and threw up. And then I had dinner with Trevor and ordered an arugula salad, which gave me a stomachache. And then Trevor asked me to marry him again. And then I said no.” I glanced up to see two sets of wide, unblinking eyes. “And then I kissed Trevor good night, and then he acted like it was hard to say I love you, even though he had just proposed to me. Twice. And now here I am.”
Cyndi shook her head. “Wow. Terrible diction, sweetie. What did they teach you in that writing program of yours?”
“Valid point, honey,” Sharon said, “but, Emi, what did the note say?”
I sighed. “He asked me to meet him tonight.”
“Well, did you?” they both asked in unison. I swear to god, it was like they shared the same brain sometimes.
“No. He wants to meet at ten, but I’m not going to. I don’t care what he has to say; I’m not subjecting myself to all that.”
They stared at each other, as if they were communicating telepathically.
“We think you should meet with him,” Cyndi said.
“I do too!” came a voice from the other room. Cara peeked her head out of her bedroom and then walked into the living room. “Emi, please tell me you finished the book.”
“No, I didn’t,” I said with a hint of irritation in my voice. “Why?”
“Come, sit,” Sharon said, scooting over and making room for me in the middle of the couch. “Cyndi and I read it on the way down here, and we think—”
“It’s not about Jase and me,” I said bluntly.
“Of course it is. And you should go talk to him,” Cara said from the kitchen as she scanned the contents of the refrigerator.
“It’s not like us to give away the ending,” Cyndi said, “but I think you should finish the book.”
“Why is everyone being so cryptic?” I asked.
“Just go meet him! He’s so hot!” Cara shouted from across the room.
Without taking her eyes off me, Sharon said, “I like her.”
I looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost ten. “Fine.”
“Oh goody!” Cyndi exclaimed. “At the very least, he can give you a few pointers on word choice. That young man is a very talented writer.”
I rolled my eyes and then hurried into my bedroom, with Sharon, Cyndi, and Cara trailing behind. I gave myself a once-over in the full-length mirror. “Why is everyone so eager for me to go meet him?”
Sharon furrowed her brow. “You can’t go like that.” I looked at my uncombed hair, sneakers, and pilling sweater. I was a wreck.
Like a flash of light, Cara took off for her room. Ten seconds later, she returned with a black slip dress, a cropped denim jacket, and black booties with a short heel. “Here. You’ll look hot, but you won’t look like you’re trying too hard.”
“Again, why is everyone so eager for me to go see him?”
“It’ll be good for you. Might give you some closure,” Cyndi said noncommittally, though I could sense she wasn’t telling me the whole truth.
My clothes went flying in every direction, and then I pulled the new outfit on. As I ran to the door, I applied lip gloss and pulled on my boots at the same time. “Look at her: she can multitask. She gets that from me,” Cyndi said to Sharon as they followed me onto the landing.
“We love you!” they shouted as I jogged down the stairs.