Chapter 32
“They changed the recipe,” I say, holding up a samosa.
Girls’ nights used to be hosted at Addie’s piece of shit apartment, central to all of us. Noa had the big house, but that was in the suburbs, well out of our way. Quinn’s apartment was the nicest, but it was too far in the business district, so no parking. Reese’s apartment didn’t have creaky floorboards, but her apartment was tiny, and all her furniture seemed doll-sized. Before I moved, I had the second best apartment for girls’ night, but I always had too much junk. My couches, floor, countertops were always riddled with packages, products, and just unnecessary stuff. I think the clutter drove my friends crazy. So we flocked at Addie’s.
Since I moved to L.A., Addie has fallen in love and finally lost her virginity. She now is engaged to and living with her disgustingly rich former boss. So by the end of April, our girls’ nights have been upgraded from what looked like a halfway-house to the most expensive penthouse in downtown Denver.
I have to speak a little louder to complain about the samosa because the penthouse is so big. “Am I the only one who noticed it tastes different?” I ask my girls, looking out to the living room from the open concept kitchen.
“They got a new chef. But I actually think it tastes better,” Reese says, joining me in the kitchen.
“I agree,” I say.
“So what’s the problem?” she asks, emptying her half-full glass into the sink. “What?” she asks when she sees my expression.
“Did you just pour half your drink down the sink? Who are you?”
Reese laughs. “A lot changes in a year, babe.”
I’ve visited home quite a few times, but being back in Denver was like letting out a breath I’d been holding for over a year and a half. Noa graciously took me in as I take baby steps to get back on my feet. I’m not rushing into another job. My new counselor and I have identified that I’m a very goal-oriented person. Almost to a fault. It means I’m going to pour my whole heart into whatever I pursue, so I have to make careful choices about what I invest in because it becomes my world.
These days, I’m investing in quality time with my friends and my mom. I’m pacing myself as I grow my skills in web design and development. Most importantly, I’m relearning what I like, not what gets people to like me. As per my counselor’s suggestion, I’m back on social media but not to influence or monetize. I’m taking baby steps, like training my feed with things I genuinely enjoy. My account is private, and my profile picture is of my hand with a bright purple manicure. I share a part of me, but not all of me.
I rarely engage, but when I do, I’m a bit of a reverse troll, if you will. Every time I attempt a new recipe, or find a home decor idea I like, or even see a funny dog video, I comment with something kind and specific. Emojis aren’t enough. I leave a message that I would’ve liked to receive when I was creating content for the masses. I made my first batch of Blondies and went back and thanked the creator for a phenomenal recipe. It was easy to follow and foolproof. And make no mistake, I am a fool in the kitchen. But cooking has been therapeutic. It’s a simple way to create and share love. Only half of the recipes I attempt end up edible. But anytime I have a winner, my girls are my taste testers.
I proudly brought my tray of Blondies to girls’ night, and they were a hit. So much so, Addie’s fiancé and Quinn’s new giant-sized football beau annihilated the tray before any of the girls could grab seconds.
The funny thing is I feel like I know myself better now than when I was supposedly on top of the world. I’m broke and technically without a career. I’m a rookie at my new endeavors, and I’m still sad over my missed chance at motherhood. But I’m being patient with myself. I’m living life instead of just talking about it. Real life is far more mellow than the extravagance I used to post online. But in mellow…there’s peace.
Peace is helping me heal.
When Noa joins us in the kitchen, she squeezes my hip gently and places my phone face down on the counter in front of me. “Your phone is going off. Someone’s texting you,” she says with a wink, then helps herself to another samosa from the Styrofoam container in front of me.
Noa’s knowing look tells me it’s Adam. She knows everything. The rest of my best friends know an abridged version of what happened in L.A. They know Adam and I had a fling and he helped pay for IVF. They don’t know how close we got or that I still wonder to this day whether it was Adam’s baby or the donor’s baby that slipped right through my fingertips.
I wait until Reese joins Quinn and Addie back on the oversized leather sectional before I flip my phone over. Adam sent me a picture of egg rolls and his hand around a glass of wine.
Adam
Hey, it’s Friday.
Me
Hey, it sure is.
Adam
I’m starting a new Friday tradition to supersede yours. Egg rolls, cabernet, and Bridget Jones’s diary.
Me
What? That doesn’t work.
Adam
Why not?
Me
It has to start with the same letter. For example: Egg rolls, Eggnog, and Ellen.
Adam
As in the Ellen DeGeneres show?
Me
Yes.
Adam
Yeah… The only thing I’m keeping from that is the egg rolls.
I picture his crooked smile. The one I dream about often.
Me
Fair enough.
Adam
What are you doing?
Me
I’m with my girls as per usual.
Adam
That’s a good thing, right?
Me
Yes. Definitely. What are you up to tonight?
Adam
I’m actually at Elm tonight. Jess is stopping by shortly.
Oh.Shit.
Jess… As in Elm’s community manager, who was clearly crushing on Adam before we got together.
Okay, that hurts.
Adam and I talk about once a week, but technically we’re not together. He’s free to date whom he pleases. Maybe he’s trying to move on. Over the past month and a half, I’ve dropped a few hints about him visiting at least. Not even a nibble. Sometimes I wonder if our bond was more about a baby than anything else.
Me
Have fun! *big grin emoji*
I flip my phone back over and blow out a breath. Noa’s watching me from across the room. She raises her eyebrows, her wordless question clear as day. “I’m fine,” I mouth back. As soon as I do, my phone rings and Adam’s name flashes across the screen. I step into the hallway, out of earshot of my friends, before I answer.
“Hey,” I answer, feigning my enthusiasm.
“I’m selling the condo.”
“What?”
I hear him opening and closing cabinets in the background. “I’ve known you for almost a year, Amani. You only use that emoji when you’re laying it on thick. Jess is interested in buying the condo, so she’s coming by for a walk-through. I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not dating anyone.”
“I wasn’t thinking that.” I clear my throat, giving myself away. After slipping into the nearest room, I shut the door behind me.
“Sure, you weren’t.”
“Okay, I was. But you’re allowed to date, Adam. We said we wanted to focus on our own things for a while, right?”
“Are you dating?”
I chuckle. “No, I’m cooking.”
He returns a laugh. “Really? For who?”
I smile against the phone. “For me, I guess.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that. Keep doing things for you.”
“I’m attempting my first Mississippi Mud Roast in a few days. I’m sure it won’t hold a candle to your mom’s, but it’s worth a try.”
I suck in my lips, debating if I should say what’s actually on my mind.
“Well, why don’t you hop on a flight and you can come over for dinner?” I ask.
“Amani, I want to see you…but not if I can’t…” He’s having trouble finishing his sentence. “I just have a lot of work right now. Maybe sometime soon, though.” It’s a weak excuse, but it’s enough for me to understand where his heart is.
“Okay.”
The door handle turns, and Addie’s fiancé, Joel, barrels in, looking as surprised to see me as I am to see him. He pulls off his glasses and rubs his eyes.
“Adam, I have to go,” I say before hanging up and sliding my phone into my back jean pocket.
“Sorry,” Joel says, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your call, but I didn’t expect anyone to be in here.” I raise one eyebrow and he clarifies by pointing to a desk behind me I didn’t notice before. “This is my home office.”
“Oh, shit. I didn’t realize. I was just looking for a quiet place to take a call. Sorry,” I mumble, trying to shuffle by him.
“Oh hey, wait.” He holds up both of his hands, trying to stop me. “While you’re here, may I run something by you?” He gestures to a couch in the corner of the room. I take a seat, wiggling my ass to make a comfortable indent in the stiff leather seat cushion. I hope he’s not trying to pick my brain about wedding plans. He came to the wrong best friend. If he’s concerned about the bridal shower or bachelorette party, Quinn or Noa are more inclined for event coordination.
“What’s up, Joel?” I ask as he sits down next to me.
“You used to be a pretty big influencer, right?”
I lean backward onto the couch. “Used to, but not anymore.”
“One of my businesses needs some support, and I think you might be a good fit. Adler mentioned you were between jobs.”
“I’m dabbling in web design,” I say, cringing. And by dabbling, I mostly mean tinkering around in Adobe Photoshop for a couple of hours a day. I’m not even close to getting a business in motion. Honestly, I need to start job hunting, but I don’t like where this conversation is going. “Joel, I’m not interested in going back to the influencer space. I can’t help you with partnerships there. My big accounts are gone anyway, and I have no intentions of building new ones. It took a terrible toll on me, and I can’t go back to that kind of work.”
He smiles. “Music to my ears. See, I have a company called Rychess Media. It’s mostly app development, but their focus is ethical design. Most social media apps are built to be addictive. They take a different approach. We finally got enough traction to fund a nonprofit division that the CEO, Roland, really wants to run with.”
Now my interest is piqued. “What kind of nonprofit?”
“A mentorship program for adolescents struggling with social media addiction and depression. The statistics for that age are scary right now. Attempted suicide rates and crime rates have skyrocketed. Roland has teenage daughters and feels personally compelled to help in any way he can. He has this vision for implementing mentorship and counseling programs in middle school, high schools, and even colleges.”
I nod firmly. “Joel, that’s really cool. I think it’s a great idea.”
“On paper,” he grumbles. “But Roland is in his late forties. And I’m not on social media. We do not know how to build a mentorship program that catches the attention of kids. We brought in a few consultants, but the last influencer we talked to pitched us a concept called, Fit in with Filters.”
“Catchy name,” I scoff.
“Wildly counterproductive to what we’re trying to do.”
“I’d say.”
“But your story…from what I hear anyway—”
Interrupting him with a grumble, I roll my eyes. “No need for charades. Addie told you everything, didn’t she?”
He rubs the back of his head and looks up, seeming to search his brain for an excuse. “I don’t want to get her in trouble.”
I laugh. “The minute Addie said yes to marrying you, you were officially adopted into our little circle. Safe space.”
He exhales in relief. “Okay, good. Well, she said you were wildly successful as an influencer but saw the ugly side of social media and it nearly broke you. I don’t know what motivated you to walk away, but I think you should talk about what you went through because there are a lot of young women and men struggling. I feel you’d know what to say.”
Would I?I’m still recovering. I got myself through the past couple of years by fixating on a baby, but when that didn’t work, I had to strip everything bare and get to know myself again. I’m still a work in progress, but in a great way. I know I’m getting closer to the best version of myself. It’s just this time, I don’t have the numbers to prove it. I have no followers, I’m running out of money, I’m going to be twenty-nine soon, and I’m starting over. But in the ways that matter most, I know I’m getting better.
It’s just impossible to measure that.
Although, maybe that’s the point?…
“Stop counting,” I say to Joel.
“What?”
“A slogan idea for your campaign. You know, we assign value to a human being based on nonsensical metrics. An influencer with millions of followers is valued more in society than a surgeon. How do you make sense of that? Someone who can make you money is more revered than someone who can save your life. We’re teaching kids right now to assign self-worth based on numbers of likes and followers. That leads to adults who continue to put their self-worth into numbers, like money.”
Joel holds up his finger. “Do you mind if I record this for notes?” He fishes out his phone, opens a recording app, then sets the phone on the table. “Okay, keep going.”
“I understand the appeal. Numbers are easy to analyze, and we want easy. People love to make quick, brash judgments because it’s more convenient to hate someone based on a twenty-second reel than actually taking the time to understand them. We take out our shit on other people, especially when hiding behind a keyboard, because there are no consequences. Anger, toxicity, cheating, and trolling are all so easy. But being a good person is hard work. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable is scary. Accepting help and offering it in return is the only way to make genuine connections that last. Money doesn’t buy happiness, just distractions. Love is the only currency that matters in this world. Everything else is noise. These are all the tough life lessons that none of us make time for because we’re still so focused on the numbers. If we can’t measure it, what’s the point? We’re so desperately trying to prove our superiority to each other, but for what? What do you actually win with more followers?”
“More lucrative partnership opportunities, I suppose,” Joel answers.
“Fair point. So tell me this, how much is Addie worth to you?”
“Everything,” Joel answers firmly.
“Give me a number.”
He shakes his head at me, running his hand through his dark hair. “You know I can’t do that. Adler is my whole heart. She’s worth my life. Actually, more than my life.”
“Then why are we trying to quantify our existence? We should just live and measure ourselves based on the quality of our relationships and how close to happiness we’re getting. You can’t measure that stuff in numbers. So stop counting.”
“I really like that,” Joel says before hitting the stop record button on his phone. “Roland and I can get behind a concept like that. When can you start? And what do you think is a fair starting salary for a VP of a nonprofit division?”
“VP?” I ask, squinting at him like he’s crazy. “My only business experience is operating my influencer business. And that was really just setting a price sheet and staying on top of taxes. Don’t you want to interview me first, to see if I’m a good fit?”
Joel taps his phone. “That was your interview. I need Roland’s sign off, but especially after the ‘Fit in with Filters’ debacle, this idea is going to blow him away. He’ll want to meet you in person, though. Can you be in New York next week? We’ll cover travel costs, of course.”
I hold up my hand, staring into Joel’s wide, enthusiastic eyes. “New York? So you’re offering me the job?”
“That too, but I’m offering you an opportunity to do some good. This is a really important topic right now, Amani. We need more people talking about it. I think you could really make a difference. Just shake some hands, share your story. If it’s not a good fit, walk away. No harm, no foul. Normally, I’m a numbers guy. Returns and profit margin are my preferred language, but I think you’re right. For this, we need to stop counting.”
My smile feels big. A flicker of hope returns at the idea of purpose. It was the same hope I had when Adam offered to have a baby with me. A way to matter and feed good things into this world.
It’s not a baby…but a fresh start nonetheless.
“I can be in New York next week.”
There’s a squeal behind the door, then clapping. I laugh as Addie cracks the door and pokes her head through. “Told you,” she says to Joel. “I knew this would be perfect.”
“Ah, so this was your brainchild,” I say as Addie joins us on the couch, wedging herself between me and the armrest. There’s hardly enough room on this side, so she’s half sitting on my lap.
“It was this, or Quinn was going to give you a boring website job at her uppity company.”
“Excuse me,” Quinn says, standing in the doorway. Her arms are crossed and she’s tapping her foot. “My company is not uppity.”
I smirk at her. I’ve visited her at Sabin Tech many times. “It’s a little uppity, Quinny.”
She rolls her eyes. “So you said yes?” Quinn asks.
I look at Joel and shrug one shoulder. “I think I did.”
“Fine,” Quinn huffs out. “But my job would’ve involved sushi lunches with me each week, and I bet my offer was double what he’s offering. I would’ve been a way better boss.”
“Are you my boss now?” I ask Joel.
He rises. “Technically, your boss’s boss. But you get to work from home, and I can certainly send you sushi on Fridays, no uppity office necessary.”
“Sorry. Joel wins,” I say to Quinn.
“It’s fine,” she replies. “As long as we get to keep you. The job is in Denver, right?”
Joel faces me. “Amani, the job will certainly involve travel, but otherwise, you can work from wherever you call home.”
“Then, yes,” I say, looking at Quinn beaming at me. “The job’s in Denver.”
* * *
“Are you sure you’re not too tired to drive?” I ask Noa who tries to hide her yawn. She flips on the turn signal, taking our familiar path back home. It’s a forty-minute drive from Addie’s penthouse back to her estate with Chase.
“I’m fine.” She pats my knee. “Maybe a conversation to keep me up though.”
I’d offer to drive but I had two glasses of celebration champagne about fifteen minutes ago. I’m still feeling a little warm and fuzzy.
“What do you want to talk about?” I ask, turning down the music.
She glances at me quickly, like she’s trying to gauge my mood. “What did Adam call about?”
“Oh, nothing. He’s just selling his condo. The place I was living for the past eight months or so.”
“Is that a good thing or bad?”
I stare out the window, watching the cars zip by on the other side of the highway. “Good, I think. It’s full of memories he probably doesn’t want to keep.”
Memories of me and the baby.
Noa lets out a heavy sigh. “I guarantee you that’s not true. I didn’t tell you but a couple months ago, he called me…about you.”
I snap my gaze to the side of Noa’s face. “About what?”
“It was right after you guys went to the ER. He was so worried. He said you needed us more than you needed him. Adam made me promise when you got home I’d take care of you.”
And Noa did. When I first moved home, she hovered. We ate every meal together and she cooked all my favorite Hawaiian dishes. She made me Huli Huli chicken and rice at least three times a week. She mothered me the way my own mother didn’t have the strength to. We watched movies and painted each other’s nails. We had sleepovers in the guesthouse. I know she was scared to leave me. I hate that I did that to her. It’s why I never wanted people to see me sad. It consumes them.
“Well, that was sweet of him,” I murmur, thinking about Adam alone with Jess in the condo. She really is a pretty girl, and sweet and bubbly…and probably not battling depression. Adam deserves someone who can lift him up, not someone he has to worry about all the time.
“Amani, he loves you. What’s keeping you apart?”
“Noa, you know I would rather not dwell on it.”
She changes lanes, dutifully checking her blind spot first. “I understand, but you said you’d keep me awake and now I want the juicy details.”
I scoff. “Since when are you a gossip?”
She chuckles. “Fair point. But you’re doing better. I see it in your eyes and the way you genuinely laugh and smile at girls’ nights. You’re going to counseling and working on healing. You’re breathing again. I love to see it. I promised myself that’s all that matters—that you’re okay—but I can’t lie, I have questions. I was actually pretty hurt…”
“About what?” I ask, my voice small. “What questions?”
“Why you left us and didn’t tell anyone what you were going through. And now, why you left Adam and keep acting like it’s over. That kind of love is never over.”
I inhale, taking in a huge waft of Noa’s pineapple air freshener which is fastened to the vent. “I was scared,” I exhale out. “It was like going to sleep, then waking up and losing your entire identity. I’d worked so hard as an influencer and one day I just kept asking what the point was. Like an existential crisis I couldn’t shake off. I guess I went to L.A. looking for the old me. The old Amani would’ve loved Los Angeles. She’s the fun girl, the strong girl, the adventurous girl. She’s the one that belongs with our group.”
“Did you find her?” Noa asks. “The old you?”
I shake my head. “No. But I think I found the real me. And she is still very lost.”
“Me too,” Noa says.
“What?”
“I know you thought motherhood would help solidify your purpose, but I’m a mom. I’m still lost most days, too. I wake up some days and I’m sad. Even now that Chase and I are together, it doesn’t mean everything is perfect. Sometimes the day feels heavy and I fake smiles, too. You were never alone in that.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea.” I tilt my head to the side, studying her profile. “I thought you were living out your happily ever after.”
“I am, but I don’t think happily ever afters are permanent. The curtain doesn’t close and life is bliss until you die. You have to work at it. Happiness grows with you. It changes as you change. And it can never be constant. How can you appreciate happiness if you don’t know sadness? The point is, we love you for you, Amani. All your broken pieces and all the sad days. You don’t have to hide any version of yourself. And you never needed a baby to have a family. We’re right here. No one is requiring the best version of you. We’ll love you through every single rough patch.”
I could wipe away the tears before they fall, but I owe Noa this at least. My vulnerability. I cry in front of her so she knows I’m being real. It’s my silent promise that I won’t hide away again. I’ll trust my family to love me through the lows. And I’ll find a way to love myself through the lows, too.
“Thank you,” I whisper, lightly squeezing her elbow. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Mani.”
“Hey, Noa?”
“Yeah?” She glances in my direction again and lingers as long as she can before her eyes snap back to the road.
“That speech was really good. Eloquent, even.”
She smiles. “Thank you.”
“How long have you been rehearsing that?”
She exhales with a small chuckle. “Two months and three days, lady. I was just waiting for the right moment.”