Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“I… think I’m coming down with a bug. We should probably stay home.”
June poked her head out of her closet to see Eleanor giving her a highly skeptical look.
“You are not,” Eleanor retorted. “You’re just nervous.”
“Okay, maybe,” June allowed. “But does it really make a difference if I end up throwing up all over the place?”
“You’re not going to throw up,” Eleanor told her. “Goodness, you’re worse than Jeremy when there was a math test that he didn’t want to take.”
This time, it was June’s turn to look skeptical.
“Jeremy never tried to skip school,” she accused. She’d never met Eleanor’s son, but she’d heard enough stories of how well he was doing at college in Pittsburgh to doubt that he was ever anything but a model student.
"Not when he got older,” Eleanor admitted, “but when he was in elementary school, he used to get really anxious about tests. And, lo and behold, he would have a super mysterious stomachache the morning of each and every math test.”
“How’d he get over it?” June asked. She was not above taking advice from a long-ago elementary schooler, not at this point.
“I made his butt go to school, he kept doing well on math tests, and eventually he realized that his nerves were for nothing.”
“Oh.” June frowned. “I hate that advice.”
Eleanor’s chuckle followed her as she ducked back into the closet.
“Yeah, I thought you might. Now. No more stalling. Pick your outfit or we’re going to be late for the open mic. And don’t say that’s your plan. I’m onto you, woman.”
Inside the closet, where Eleanor couldn’t see her, June wrinkled her nose.
Would it be the worst thing if they missed the open mic?
There would be another one in two weeks.
What was two weeks in the grand scheme of things?
Nothing, that was what. After all, every week felt as though it went faster than the one before. It was a blink of an eye!
“Chop, chop!” Eleanor called, as if she could read June’s thoughts.
“But what about--?”
“Get dressed!”
June might be a mom herself, but she found herself helpless in the face of Eleanor’s bossy mom tone.
“All right, all right,” June grumbled, feeling like she was playing the role of the moody teenager. “I’m coming.”
“Okay,” Eleanor said when June emerged. “That’s, what, seventeen outfits?”
“I need options,” June insisted. “Do you know how long it has been since I’ve gotten all dolled up?”
“Probably since the time ‘all dolled up’ was in the vernacular,” Eleanor teased.
June stuck out her tongue in response.
It was the last time she felt playful for the next half an hour.
She changed in and out of different outfit options, grateful that Benjamin was having a sleepover with Izzy and Cadence and wasn’t there to hear the less than gracious language that June let slip during the process of figuring out what to wear.
She’d felt a little guilty about sending Benjamin to Cadence without explaining to her friend exactly why she needed the evening clear, but June wasn’t ready yet to share the news about her tentative foray back into singing… not just yet.
Fortunately, Cadence hadn’t had any questions about why a single mom might want a night to herself.
June really had the best friends.
Eleanor, for example, was really staying cool and patient as June did battle with her wardrobe, her frustration increasing palpably with each outfit change.
First, she’d tried a little black dress, figuring it was a classic. Except… she hadn’t worn that dress in years, maybe longer than Benjamin had been alive. It didn’t officially not fit, but it was distinctly less than flattering.
“I don’t know that that’s the right look for this event,” Eleanor said diplomatically. “That feels more like ‘date’ or ‘cocktail party’ over the energy of an open mic night.”
“Right,” June said. “Less classic, more cool. Let’s see what I can do.”
Next, she tried a cute top that she’d bought on a whim at a little boutique once, but that she’d never worn. As soon as she put it on, she remembered why she’d never worn it.
“Wow,” she said. “This looks like I am trying way too hard.”
Eleanor tilted her head consideringly.
“It’s not quite you,” she said.
“This is a sign I should never shop anywhere except Diana’s store,” June muttered, glaring at the top like it had personally offended her. “Diana would never do me dirty like this.”
“Okay,” Eleanor said, gently untangling the fabric from June’s fingers. “Let’s stop talking to the clothes, huh?”
June pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.
“Ugh, this is why I shouldn’t do this!” she cried. “I’m not a cool, open mic-going singer! I’m a mom! A boring, old, uncool, ugly clothes mom!”
“Take a breath, honey,” Eleanor said, looping an arm over June’s shoulders and guiding her down to sit on the edge of the bed. “You’re spinning out. Your clothes are not ugly, and you’re not boring, uncool, or old.”
“I—”
“Please note that if you’re calling yourself old,” Eleanor interrupted mildly, “that you are calling me old. And I am hip and young, thank you very much.”
“Hip and young is old person slang, but sure,” June grumbled.
Eleanor laughed, then bumped their shoulders together.
“Why don’t you let me pick, huh? Then maybe you won’t feel so self-conscious about it, and we can actually get out here before the open mic is over. And yes, June, for the millionth time, that would be a bad thing.”
“Yeah, sure,” June said resignedly.
She slumped back onto her bed, now strewn with her outfit rejects, and indulged in the simple pleasure of letting someone else handle the details for once.
And Eleanor was good at it. The outfit that she came up with was simple and comfortable without feeling too blah or boring.
It was June’s best pair of jeans, the ones that hugged her perfectly and had been washed so many times that they were practically as comfortable as sweatpants without looking nearly as casual.
The top Eleanor had pulled out was a royal blue shell made of a satiny material.
The color had always flattered June, and, when paired with the jeans, looked chic without being too dressy.
“Okay,” Eleanor said, placing the items down over the edge of the bed. “So you pair them with these sandals.” She pulled out a pair of strappy silver sandals with a barely-there heel, ones that June would be able to walk in all night but which added a flash of glamour to the outfit.
“Then,” Eleanor continued, “I was thinking you add a whole bunch of necklaces. Really mix and match. Silver and green if you have it. Throw a little boho element into it.”
“Eleanor,” June said, propping herself up slowly. “You are a genius.”
“Well, I’m no Diana,” Eleanor said, clearly pleased, “but I may have picked up a trick or two during my years attending fancy lawyer events.”
“You know my stance is officially that your ex-husband is a doofus for letting you go,” June said as she rifled through her jewelry box, “but I will thank the man for that, I suppose.”
“Well, his loss is your gain,” Eleanor said. “And mine.”
June blew her friend a playful, teasing kiss.
In a few more moments, fewer of them than June might have hoped, if she was telling the truth, she was ready and feeling pretty good about how she looked.
If only she could summon up the same good feeling about her singing.
“Stop stalling,” Eleanor laughing cajoled when June took one last look at her reflection.
“Okay, okay. I’m coming, I’m coming.”
Eleanor kept up a cheerful chatter all the way to Anchor Bistro, clearly determined to distract June from her nerves.
To Eleanor’s credit, it was totally working.
“Ooh, I feel like I’m in a movie,” Eleanor said. “Or, like, one of those fun books about a group of friends getting into fun little antics. This is our antic, June! We’re antic-ing!”
“Your grammar leaves something to be desired,” June teased, “but yeah, we super are. Even if I bomb, this is still going to be a fun friendship memory, right?”
“One, you are not going to bomb,” Eleanor said, pointing at June while they paused for a red light. “But two, yes. No matter how this goes, we are in fun mode. We are fun ladies having a fun night in a fun town. Is the word ‘fun’ starting to sound weird to you?”
“It is,” June agreed, “but it doesn’t mean we’re not having fun… nope, that sounds like nonsense.”
The two friends were laughing as they pulled into Anchor Bistro, and June was feeling as confident as she ever had. Maybe she could do this. Maybe she could really, truly do this!
And then they walked through the doors and heard the singing.
The woman standing on stage was basically the picture-perfect image of everything June feared she wasn’t.
She was young, maybe in her early twenties, and was wearing a chic outfit with a tight lime green crop top that should have looked silly, but absolutely didn’t, and wide-legged trousers that made June feel like her worn skinny jeans were about a million years out of date.
But, worst of all, the woman could sing.
She was belting out “Jolene” like she was Dolly Parton herself, and she was absolutely crushing it.
Dolly would have given it a standing ovation.
“Nope,” June said, trying to pivot on her heel to head right back out the door. “Nope, nope, not a chance.”
Eleanor blocked her with her body.
“All right, all right, let’s take a beat,” Eleanor said, holding up her hands like she was afraid June would try to bolt. “Yes, she’s good, but that doesn’t mean anything about your performance, right? We’re already here. Let’s take a seat, get a drink, and just… suss out what’s going on, okay?”
June wanted to object strenuously to this, but a drink did sound good, and Eleanor was right. They were already here.
“Fine,” she said. “One drink.”
They found spots at the bar where they could see the stage. The bartender appeared in a trice, offering the friends a charming smile.
“What can I get you to drink, ladies?”
“Uh, white wine for me,” Eleanor said.
“Tequila,” June said.
The man rapped on the bar. “Coming right up.”
“That guy was totally eyeing you up,” Eleanor confided in a whisper after the bartender walked away. “Does that improve your confidence?”
“It does not,” June said, her eyes never leaving the talented singer now taking a bow on the stage.
The tequila appeared at her elbow and she knocked it back.
“Did that improve your confidence?” Eleanor asked.
June took a sip of the water that the bartender had thoughtfully added to her water, considering. “Yeah, a little.”
That teeny tiny boost in confidence lasted until the next singer took the stage.
This singer was just as glamorous as the previous one, albeit in a different way. Where the previous singer had been ultra-trendy, this singer had gone full classic glamour, like an old-fashioned crooner.
And, as it turned out, she had the voice to show for it.
“Nope,” June said, fishing in her pockets and slapping down a few bills to cover the drinks she and Eleanor had ordered.
Poor Eleanor deserved to be treated, since not only had she dragged June practically kicking and screaming on this excursion, but her sweet friend had only gotten about two sips of her wine.
“Uh, what?” Eleanor said, stealing a third tiny sip as June practically dragged her back outside.
“I can’t do it,” June said in a rush as soon as the summer breeze greeted them. “I… I can’t do it. I—I’m not ready.”
“Okay,” Eleanor said.
This took some of the wind out of June’s sails. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” Eleanor gave her a kind smile. “Sweetie, I didn’t want to pressure you.
” She paused, considering. “Okay, I guess I kind of did. But not pressure, pressure, if that makes any sense. I just wanted you to feel supported and not let your fears get the best of you. But if you’re really not ready, you’re not ready.
Just… don’t give up on yourself, okay? Don’t let ‘not ready’ become ‘not ever’ just because you’re scared. ”
June dropped her head back. “Ugh, what did I ever do to deserve such good friends?” she asked the night sky.
Eleanor looped their arms together. “It’s not a matter of ‘deserve,’ but I hope you know that you’re a great person who should have all kinds of good things in life. And that includes following your dreams… when you’re ready.”
June tilted her neck so that her head rested briefly on Eleanor’s shoulder.
“Right,” she said, gathering her mental energy. “Well, let’s not waste our night off, shall we? What do you say we head back to my place for some snacks and drinks?”
“That sounds perfect,” Eleanor said.