Chapter 3
Thursday morning, all three of my friends insist on driving me, en masse, to the bus station, which is about a half hour away.
We all pile into Taylor’s SUV because it’s the biggest, and my heart breaks yet again at the realization that I’m not ready
to leave.
Over the last several days, I’ve helped Marnie pack up her apartment, gone cake tasting with Maya, and helped Taylor address
the thank-you cards from her shower.
To some, boring and mundane.
To me? Brilliant and special.
A stark reminder of what’s been missing.
When I told them I’d taken the job in Wisconsin, they were so genuinely excited for me. It made the whole thing seem important.
I got a job! No, it’s not New York, but it’s a professional job in the theatre, which Taylor was quick to point out.
To them, that was a very big deal. Maybe a little celebrating was in order.
Their support buoyed me. It made me feel like I wasn’t totally crazy for quickly replying yes and hitting Send.
However, now that the bus station is getting closer and the job is somehow getting more real, a wave of worry washes over
me.
What if I’m making a terrible mistake? What exactly will they want me to do on a creative team? Yeah, I took directing classes in college, but I’ve never actually done it. Assisting someone could be a great learning experience, though. Maybe that’s my new job. Why didn’t I ask more questions?
Oh, right. Because I’m desperate.
Maya leans her face forward between the front seats of the SUV and smiles at me. “I made you a dating profile.”
I spin around and look at her. “You did what?”
“I don’t like the thought of you being alone in Door County,” she says, sitting back. “Or in New York. Or anywhere, for that
matter.”
“And you think I need a guy?” I fake scoff. “I’m a strong, fierce, independent woman.”
“Right, but you’re not getting any younger, so I made you a dating profile.” She reaches forward and clicks her perfectly
manicured nail on my phone three times.
“Again with this,” Marnie groans. “We’re not old, Maya.” She pushes Maya out of the way and sticks her face between the seats.
“Ever since she and Matty started dating, she’s convinced that nobody can be truly happy if they’re not in a relationship.
I tried to tell her that I’m a career girl and I’m perfectly content, but guess what?”
I wince. “She made you a profile too?”
“She made me a profile too.” Marnie rolls her eyes and slumps back in her seat.
Maya swipes around on her phone, then hands it to me, revealing Marnie’s profile. “I’m very good at making them. And since
I’m officially off the market, it’s my job.”
“Well, in that case, you’re fired,” I quip.
I click through the photos Maya has added to the profile. “Marnie, you look hot! What is this picture from?”
“Class reunion,” Maya says, then teasing, she adds, “The one you didn’t come home for.”
Now I’m the one who groans. I’d bailed on them.
“The life of a career girl,” Marnie says sympathetically.
More like the life of a broke girl , I think but don’t say.
“I did switch your location to Milwaukee, Mar.” Maya takes the phone back from me. “You might want to give the most recent
matches a look before you just write them off. I mean, do you really want to miss out on this?” She holds up the phone to
reveal the photo of a very attractive, outdoorsy-looking man.
My eyes widen. “Whoa. How is that man single? He looks like if Old Spice were a person.”
Taylor and I both laugh, but Marnie doesn’t crack a smile. “I think dating apps are stupid,” she says. “And sleazy.”
“I met Matty on an app,” Maya says.
“We went to high school with Matty,” Taylor says, not turning back to look at her.
Maya shakes her head. “I mean I re -met him on an app. We didn’t really know each other in high school. He was older, and I was—”
“Dating Troy,” I say in a singsong.
After a beat, there’s a collective “ Troyyyy...! ” from all of us at the memory of Maya’s high school boyfriend, the one who didn’t seem to believe in bathing or washing his
hair.
Maya rolls her eyes. “It was a phase.”
“He smelled like a boy’s dorm room.” I scrunch my face. “Dirty clothes and...”
“Weed,” Taylor supplies.
“Whatever!” Maya protests. “I thought he was hot. He was in a band.”
“What was the name of his band?” Taylor asks over her shoulder.
The three of us in unison shout “Stiff Kitty!” and then laugh.
“How can you not remember that?” I ask Taylor. “Their logo was a cat face with X’s for eyes, stuck to the grill of a car.”
“Say what you want, I don’t care.” Maya fakes getting defensive, then looks at me. “I didn’t have as much to go on for your profile, Rosie, but I still think it came together. You’ll need to download the app, and all the notifications will come right to your inbox. I texted you the log-in info.”
“Maya, I’m even less interested in dating than Marnie is,” I tell her.
“Why? Don’t you want to meet some drummer in a band and live happily ever after?” Maya teases.
“Aren’t those two things mutually exclusive?” I ask.
She makes a face. “Good men are out there. Look at Aaron”—she motions to Taylor—“And Matty.” She smiles a little to herself.
“You two both deserve to be as happy as we are.”
“Aaron leaves his underwear on the bathroom floor, and he still plays video games until 2:00 a.m.” Taylor sighs. “So you actually
might be a little happier than I am right now.”
When she realizes we’re all looking at her, she scrunches her face and quickly adds, “I’m sorry. I’m just hormonal.”
Maya shrugs this off like she’s used to it. “I have a good feeling about this summer, Ro.”
“I’m still struggling with your use of the word men .” I groan. “Are we old enough to be dating men?”
“Heck yeah,” Maya says. “And don’t settle for dating some boy. You deserve to be dating a man.”
Maya takes my phone out of the drink holder, sticks it in front of my face to use facial recognition to open it and starts
clicking. “I’m just going to download the app... right... there.” She flips it around and points to a hot-pink square
with a red heart in the middle. “This is it. Love Match. I set up push notifications so anytime someone likes your profile
or leaves a message, you get a text.”
“Oh no,” I say. “No notifications. Take that off.”
She mockingly shrugs. “I’m sorry, I forgot how to do that.”
I narrow my eyes playfully. “You’re the worst.”
“I look forward to hearing you take that back when you find the love of your life,” she says, her tone wistful. “You can thank me later.”
“I’m not a casual dater, Maya, you know that. I’m not even a biannual dater.” I drop my phone back in my giant bag. It’ll
sink down into the abyss, and I’ll have to dump everything out to find it, but at least it’s safe from Maya’s impending matchmaking.
“I don’t see the point in dating people I have no interest in marrying,” I continue. “Isn’t that the whole reason people go
on dates? Find the match, walk the aisle, pump out two point five kids?”
“Rosie, I swear, you’re an eighty-seven-year-old woman trapped in a hot, twenty-nine-year-old body.”
“Actually, I am,” I quip. “Get off my lawn.”
She laughs and sits back.
I muse, “I like people, but I like to be home too. Honestly, my idea of a perfect date would be, like, making dinner at home
and binge-watching The Office .” I shrug. “Too much going out is exhausting.”
“Maybe that’s why you’re still single,” Taylor pipes in.
I point a finger at her in agreement. “Maybe that is why I’m still single.”
“Well, if you and Marnie don’t start putting yourselves out there, you’re going to end up like Miss Bates.” She puckers her
lips in what I can only assume is supposed to be an old-spinster expression, or her impersonation of one of the actresses
who played Miss Bates in one of the many Emma adaptations.
“I happen to like Miss Bates,” I say. “She’s the underdog.”
“There’s just one problem, Ro.” Maya peers at me, like she’s about to say something important. “The underdog doesn’t usually
win.”
Before my mind can process that, Taylor pulls the car into an empty parking space in front of the bus station. “We’re here!”
We get out of the car and walk around the back. I open the hatch and pull out my suitcase, and after I’ve closed the trunk,
I turn and face them.
Taylor’s already wiping tears from her cheeks, Maya’s wearing a pouty expression, and Marnie’s just staring at me.
“Promise you’re going to be better about staying in touch,” Taylor says.
“I promise,” I say, meaning it.
“Promise me you’re going to at least pay some attention to those dating app notifications,” Maya says.
I smirk. “I promise I will think about maybe trying to remember once in a while to at least pay some attention periodically.”
Marnie reaches out and hugs me. “Don’t let her make you think you need a man.”
I hug her back. “Fierce independent woman,” I say.
I move to Maya, who squeezes me hard, then makes a pouty face. “You can be independent and still be in love.”
I nod, smiling at her, and glance over at Taylor, whose face is a patchwork of emotions.
“I’ll miss you,” she says.
I pull her into a hug. “I’ll miss you too,” I say. “But I’m coming back when Baby Rosie is born.”
“Uh, her name’s Maya,” Maya says.
“Marnie is more original.” Marnie hitches her purse up on her shoulder, disinterested in having an emotional goodbye.
I smile at Taylor. And I pause. Almost long enough to define it as lingering. “I don’t want to leave you guys.”
“Good, it’s important for you to remember you’ve got people. And we love you,” Taylor says.
“I know.” I give a definitive nod, determined in this moment to be a better friend. “I’ll let you guys know when I get there.”
I pull the handle up on the suitcase and balance my bag on top. Most of what I own is in this suitcase. Most of what I had back in New York belonged to my roommates or wasn’t worth keeping, which is why I didn’t put up a fight when Ellen packed me up and sent me on my way.
My whole life is in this bag. I look up at my three best friends.
Or maybe my whole life is in this parking lot.