Chapter 2
The next day I meet my friends for brunch.
Taylor and Marnie are brunch people, which is to say they do things before eleven in the morning, like eat avocado toast and
talk to people who also eat avocado toast.
Maya and me? Not so much.
At least Maya didn’t used to be. When I pull up to Harold’s in the Square, the only restaurant that serves brunch in Pleasant
Valley, I see her standing outside on her phone. She’s impeccably dressed, hair pulled back into a slick ponytail, expensive
bag hanging off her shoulder.
She looks so... grown-up. And so... put together. I don’t see a trace of the rebellious Maya I used to know. The girl
with the dark, thick eyeliner and black nail polish is gone, and in her place is this gorgeous, refined... adult...
woman.
And she owns a business.
And she’s marrying a mayor.
It’s like I’m in some weird, twisted version of Freaky Friday , but all my friends have switched places with new, fancy, successful people, and I’ve stayed exactly the same.
Marnie appears on the sidewalk next to her, and suddenly I’m self-conscious about my outfit. The pink joggers and thrifted
bright-yellow sweatshirt seemed like a good idea—I’m one for comfort over style, for sure—but there’s no way to hide in a
neon sweater.
I glance up at the rearview mirror and blink three times. “They love you, Rosie. They aren’t going to think less of you if you tell them the truth. Just be honest—”
I gasp at the knock on the window of my mom’s minivan and turn to see Taylor standing in the street, frowning. “What are you
doing?” she shouts through the window, over-miming with her hands to indicate that I’m nuts.
I open the car door and get out. “You scared me to death.”
“It’s nice to see you still talk to yourself.” She smiles.
“Beats paying for therapy,” I quip, knowing that it doesn’t—it’s only cheaper.
I grab my bag and close the car door, clicking the button on the key fob to lock it.
“And you still carry a gigantic bag.” She tosses me a sideways grin.
“Hey,” I protest, “I seem to remember my gigantic bag saving you more than once.”
“Fair point.” She nods. “I could always count on you for an Advil or a sewing kit or a burrito—”
“That was one time,” I say. “And it was an emergency.”
“Emergency Burrito.” Taylor says this like it’s an official thing, and smiles as we cross the street toward the restaurant.
“Do you know how many times during this pregnancy I wished I had a whole jar of Jif and one of those chocolate pudding Snack
Packs?”
“As a matter of fact...” I start to dig through my bag.
“You don’t have a—” She gasps before she can complete the thought as I pull out a chocolate Snack Pack.
“Oh. My. Gosh , Rosie!” We practically collapse into each other, laughing so hard we can’t get words out. People walking by probably think
we’re deranged or drunk or both, but at this moment, I don’t care.
Marnie walks over to us and starts to say, “What is wrong with...” And before she finishes, I toss the Snack Pack in her direction, which she swats out of the air with a “What the... ?” like it’s a large bee made of pudding.
It rockets straight into a guy’s arm who was walking past, and he startles with a,
“Hey, watch it!”
This sends us into near-hysterical asphyxiation. Taylor grabs her stomach and wheezes, “Stop it, stop it, I’m going to have
the baby right here!” I can’t breathe, and I’m going to die happy.
Taylor finally gathers enough air to gasp, “What the heck, you Snack Pack lunatic,” which sends us laughing again.
We come to our senses, shaking heads and wiping tears, and she wraps an arm around me. “Whew. I needed that. Oh my gosh.”
I glance around and notice a few side-eyes tossed our way. “We must look crazy.”
She laughs and points a don’t-get-me-started-again finger at me. “I know. You’re the only friend I have who is willing to make a fool of herself on my behalf.”
I grin and bend over to pick up the pudding. “I make a fool of myself as a job.”
Maya spots us from down the block and storms toward us. “Finally!” She lifts her arms, and her diamond catches the sunlight,
a reminder that her life—like everyone else’s—is right on track. “I’m starving.”
Marnie smiles. “I’m so glad we’re all together again.”
“And we have so much to celebrate!” Taylor says.
Maya opens the door to the restaurant. “We can be sappy later. After I get my avocado toast.”
“She’s still mean when she’s hungry,” Marnie says in a low whisper as we walk inside.
“And she eats avocado toast. What’s next, lemongrass bagels?” I whisper back. Taylor stifles a laugh and gives me a gentle
elbow to the ribs. Maya was always a little like a tiny garbage disposal. It was impressive how much food she could put away
for being such a small human.
We’re seated at a table in the back, and after the waitress brings us our drinks and takes our orders, I feel a shift in the mood. It’s like a dark cloud just covered the sun, save for the spotlight that just flicked on in my face.
And, yep. They’re all looking at me.
My smile is weak. I’d decided I need to come clean with them on the drive over. After all, if I don’t go home tomorrow, which
was my original plan, they’re going to figure out the truth. That I don’t have any idea what comes next.
Still, now that I’m sitting here, under the weighty glares of three people who probably know me better than anyone, my courage
slinks out the back door.
“You haven’t been straight with us,” Marnie says.
Uh-oh.
“Yeah,” Taylor chimes in. “We’re trying to live vicariously through our friend who lives in New York City, but she won’t tell us anything about what it’s like.”
My heart drops, hopefully not too noticeably. “Right. I was going to, I just—”
“We saw the video, Rosie. It’s amazing!” Maya practically squeals.
“The... what? What video?”
“The one where you’re like, mean.” Maya shimmies her shoulders.
Mean? What are they...?
Oh, wait.
The low-budget—but yes, professional—training video I did for future veterinarians. I portrayed the “what not to do” in three
different scenarios, and the whole behind-the-scenes experience was a bit humiliating. The kind of video that would resurface
if someone ever hosted a “Roast of Rosie Waterman” because it would provide so many opportunities for mockery.
But it was work. And it paid. So I took it.
I just didn’t know anyone I knew would see it.
“It was so fun to see you being, you know, completely different than the way you really are,” Taylor says.
My cheeks are hot. “How did you see it?”
“Your mom sent out a mass email,” Maya says, and then, pointedly, “Otherwise, we never would’ve known.”
The words mass and email land with a thud.
I try to regroup as I stammer, “Ugh, sh-she did? I mean, I should’ve... ugh... I’m sorry about that. It was a small
thing, just for an industry training video, not like, you know, Broadway or anything.”
If my mom and stepdad weren’t on their Alaskan cruise right now, I would definitely have a few choice words for my mother.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Marnie asks. “We would’ve celebrated with you.”
I shrug. “It’s really not a big deal.”
“It’s a huge deal,” Taylor says. “Every bit of work matters, right?”
They care. It’s so obvious. Why not let them in?
What are you so afraid of?
I hope my laugh doesn’t sound nervous. “I mean, yeah. Totally. Working actors work, so it doesn’t really matter sometimes
what the work is, right? That one, though...” I don’t want to go into the details of how the director spoke to me, like I was hardly worthy of breathing
the same air as him. And the script? I shudder remembering how terrible it was.
I should be thankful they’re excited about this, but it just widens the divide between them wanting to celebrate the little
things and me not wanting to talk about them at all.
“Can we talk about something else?” I ask.
Taylor’s frown deepens. “Rosie, are you okay?”
I feel my smile give and I beg it to stay put. “I’m great.” I take a sip of my iced tea and look away.
“She’s not great,” Maya says to the others like I’m not here.
“She’s obviously not great,” Marnie says.
“Ohh. Guy trouble?” Taylor asks.
Marnie sighs. “Not all of us are dying to get married, Taylor.”
“No, but Rosie would be such a good girlfriend,” Taylor says. “Any guy would be lucky to have her. She’s so fun and happy.”
My insides roll. I feel neither of those things.
“When was the last time you went on a date, Ro?” Maya picks up a piece of bread from the basket at the center of the table
and tears off a chunk. “Have you gone out with anyone since Peter?”
“Uh, it’s been a while,” I say.
“See?” Taylor reaches over and touches my shoulder. “You need to get out there. We aren’t getting any younger.” She rubs her
belly.
“Are you on any of the apps?” Maya asks. “I could make you a profile while you’re home.”
Marnie levels my gaze. “Unless you don’t want to get married and have kids, which is a totally cool choice too.”
“How am I still the center of this conversation?” I ask.
“You’re the most interesting.” Marnie shrugs.
“I promise you I’m not.”
I point at Marnie. “New job.”
I point at Taylor. “Brunching for two. Maybe three, who knows.”
She snorts and tosses a piece of bread at me.
I point at Maya. “Shacking up with a mayor.”
Taylor snorts again as the other two shake their heads at me.
“You’re living in New York , Rosie,” Maya says. “It may as well be another planet. We all still live here.”
“Not for long.” Marnie tips her glass at us and sips her drink through a smile.
Maya sulks. “I always thought I’d be the one to get out of here.”
“If you marry the mayor, you could be here forever.” Taylor takes a sip of her tomato juice because apparently she had a craving.
I turn to Marnie, hoping that this will be an acceptable change of subject. “When do you move?”
“She moves in two weeks,” Maya says. “We know all of Marnie’s news. You are the mystery.”
So much for that plan.