Chapter Thirty-Seven
W hen using highlighter on more mature skin,” Carley says, while applying illuminating serum under Marcia’s eyes, “you want to draw attention to the highest points of your face.”
Standing next to me in Marcia’s en suite, her date Sharon takes a sip of wine. “Where is the highest point on my face?”
Carley smiles but doesn’t answer because she’s filming a video.
Her latest project is a demonstration of how to apply highlighter for all generations.
She used me as her model for Gen Z before Marcia took her turn as boomer.
Her models for millennial, Gen X, and the silent generation are her cousin, mom, and great aunt, respectively, but thankfully they aren’t here because Marcia’s bathroom is already crowded enough.
I turn to Sharon, who I just met an hour ago but like already. “The highest points are the ones that stick out farthest from your cheeks.” She looks impressed and I feel myself blush. “I only know this because I asked the same question.”
“Hmm.” Sharon stands and peers at her reflection in the mirror over the sink while stretching out the skin on her cheeks with her fingers.
Short and solid with chin-length reddish brown hair, dark eyes the color of acorns, and medium-toned skin, Sharon is adorable. She’s also only sixty-six, which means Marcia’s dating a younger woman, something Carley and I enjoyed teasing her about before Sharon got here tonight.
The two went out for the first time the same night Marcia told me and Adam her doctor wasn’t thrilled about both of us living with her and have been seeing each other regularly ever since.
I’m happy for her. I think Adam would like Sharon too—after an intense interrogation as to her intentions toward his grams, that is.
I picture his round of twenty questions as a scene in my head and laugh to myself.
Adam’s been gone almost two weeks now, and the transition has been fine.
The apartment is noticeably quieter without him roughhousing with Rocket or watching television in the living room.
It makes it much easier to focus on my homework.
I can watch Love Is Blind without him interrupting me with unwanted commentary on the contestants’ true motives.
The bathroom is also much tidier now that he’s gone, and I never noticed how spacious the vanity was until he took his shaving supplies and deodorant back to Philadelphia with him.
If I have to pee in the middle of the night, I can turn on the lights instead of tiptoeing in the dark to avoid waking him up, and I don’t have to worry about going number two while he’s right outside! So yeah, it’s been fine… good, in fact.
Marcia moped around at first. I’d catch her peering out her bedroom door into the living room as if expecting to see Adam on the couch, but then her face would fall when she remembered he doesn’t live here anymore.
I suggested some of the activities we did alone together before he moved in as a distraction, like yoga classes and walks around the park, but I think Sharon is the one who ultimately pulled her out of her funk.
I know she still misses him, but she’s not overtly sad about it anymore.
I haven’t spoken to him, but Marcia said he’s doing well at his new job.
Though an online learning platform does seem more up his alley than a bank—and he did enjoy the library events focused on tweens and teens—I have trouble picturing him working in customer service or tech support anywhere .
But all that matters is that he’s happy.
“All finished,” Carley says, standing back and surveying her work.
I straighten my back and focus on Marcia. “Looking good!”
She’s glowing, although it’s unclear whether it’s the makeup or Sharon that’s causing it. “Where are you two off to tonight?” I ask.
Marcia glances at her diamond-studded vintage Timex watch. “Nonna Dora’s, and we’d better hurry or we’ll lose our reservation.”
“I wish you’d have warned me you’d be all glammed up,” Sharon says, placing her empty wineglass on the vanity. Then she raises her palms in the air and bends down then back up again while chanting, “I’m not worthy! I’m not worthy!”
Marcia pushes her gently. “Oh, stop it, Garth!”
Sharon juts a hip. “I’m Wayne, you’re Garth.”
“Why am I Garth?”
“He’s a blond, like you.”
“Dana Carvey is not a blond!”
“He’s closer to it than Mike Myers!”
While the two playfully argue back and forth, I lock eyes with Carley.
She places a hand on her heart and mouths, “Ca- yoot !”
I mouth back, “I know!” A smitten Marcia is an adorable sight to behold. If Adam were here, he’d grumble before grudgingly agreeing with me. I shake off the image and plant on a smile. “Have the best time, ladies!”
After the two leave, I refill my wineglass with the remains of the bottle of Riesling Sharon brought over and collapse onto the couch next to Carley.
Rocket’s resting on the rug by our feet.
Every once in a while, he sits up and makes sad eyes at me.
I take a long sip of wine when my first thought is that he must miss Adam.
“Check this out,” Carley says, handing me her phone.
It’s an advertisement for an Emily in Paris guided tour in Paris. “Oh, this looks super fun!”
“It’s only thirty-nine dollars a person, but we can do an unofficial one if you want to save money.” Carley says this nonchalantly, as if acting like my coming along on her trip to Europe is a foregone conclusion will make it so.
“Hmm,” I mutter passive-aggressively.
“Think of it as your reward for winning!”
“Winning what?”
Carley looks at me funny and sweeps her arms around the living room. “The battle with Adam!”
My shoulders drop. “Oh. Right.”
Her forehead crinkles. “You’re here and he’s not. So why don’t you look happier?”
“Because he’s not here.” I whisper the words, hoping that if I say them quietly enough, even I might not hear them.
Carley’s face falls. “Oh, fuck.”
My eyes tear up, no longer able to deny the undeniable. “I miss him, Carley.”
I’ve been focusing on all the positives but suspect they are secretly negatives.
Sure, I can turn on the light when I use the bathroom at night, but it just makes it harder to fall back asleep.
Watching television without Adam’s background commentary is boring.
Studying in complete silence is overrated.
In fact, the only true positive is that I don’t have to plan the timing of my number twos for when he’s out of smell-shot.
I sag against the couch cushion. “I keep telling myself it’s what I wanted, and it is, but I didn’t think he’d move to Philadelphia .”
Carley leans in closer to me. “Move back to Philadelphia, you mean?”
I rub my hands along my jeans. “While we were fighting, he… he said that if I moved out we could date for real. I assumed he was trying to manipulate me into surrendering.” I enjoyed every second of being your roommate. Every second.
She studies me. “Do you wish you did? Surrender, I mean?”
I take a sip of wine. “Of course not. And Marcia said herself that she didn’t want to live with him on a permanent basis because then she’d be a grandmother twenty-four seven instead of a queen.”
Carley places a hand over her heart. “I love that she called herself a queen!”
I chuckle. “She didn’t. I’m just paraphrasing. Anyway, I don’t wish I gave in, but I can’t help wondering, what if? ”
She wraps an arm around me in a side hug. “Well, if ever you needed a European vacation, it’s now.”
I snort. “Of course you’d find a way to bring this back to your trip.”
“It’s my gift.” She kicks her foot against mine. “Just promise me you’ll think about it?”
She insists I make this promise every time I see her.
Unwilling to take no for an answer, she’s put off booking the trip, but this is the final week of her show so I’m running out of time.
If I go with her, I can cancel my registration for summer school, which starts next week, for a full refund, but I’ll need to tell Jenny right away so she can organize coverage at the library in my absence.
The good news is, jobs in libraries, even temporary, are in high demand.
It only took a few days to find Adam’s replacement, a college student getting her BA in library and information science.
She’s fine , but she’s not Adam. (Although at least I’m not distracted by the perfect fit of her jeans or tempted to get to third base with her in the elevator.)
I break myself out of that particular train of thought and back to the issue at hand.
Why am I even thinking about who would cover for me at work?
I’m not going with Carley. I can’t go with Carley.
But lately, my outward insistence of this fact to the woman herself has been sorely lacking conviction.
“Shit. Work.” Carley vaults off the couch.
“I need to get to the theater!” She runs to Marcia’s bedroom and returns with her bag of equipment slung over her shoulder.
“Don’t think about Adam. Think about Paris and visiting the Pont des Arts and Palais-Royal Garden!
Pain au chocolat at Boulangerie Moderne!
” Then she kisses me on both cheeks European style and leaves.
My phone pings with a text.
Audrina: come home this wknd
Sabrina: Why?
Audrina: I won free massage appointments in the company raffle
I place my phone on the coffee table and consider the offer.
The round-trip train ticket would mean more charges on my credit card that I can’t afford to pay off, but otherwise staying at my mom’s usually costs me nothing because either we eat at her house or she takes us out.
Between adjusting to life post-Adam and getting an F in adulting, I could definitely use a massage, and considering I’m in the financial doghouse, I can only afford a free one.
Sabrina : Make appointments for Sunday. I’m working Saturday morning but I’ll leave straight from the library. Don’t eat dinner without me
Audrina: Bossy, much? But yes
In slightly better spirits, I rise to walk Rocket. He needs to go out and I need to do something that doesn’t cost any money.