Chapter 8
Albany
I was the type of woman who meticulously planned out my day.
I usually woke with an agenda and methodically went about clearing every item off of my to-do list. It was my way of maintaining some control over my life after not having any for much of my childhood.
Very rarely did I deviate from my schedule, and only for certain people, but today …
I can’t do this.
Groaning, I covered myself with an oversized hoodie and draped my favorite blazer atop my throbbing head. My decision to drown my sorrows in vodka and simple syrup, then pass out in my rented bedroom—after I ate a gallon of rainbow sherbet and a full bag of potato chips—had caught up to me.
The door creaked opened, but instead of turning to it, I rolled over so that my back was facing it. “I know,” I grumbled. “You told me to stop at one lemon drop.”
Brianna had watched the train wreck in silence, nursing an ice water.
A long time ago, we vowed that one of us would always remain sober.
Since I was the inebriated bitch at the bar, she became my eyes and ears.
I felt sorry for her, too. Because I was a terrible, mopey, whiny, drunk friend.
Now, I was the terrible, mopey, whiny, hungover friend.
“I’ll get up soon,” I continued. “I just need to lay here for another seventy-two hours.” That was the subtle way of telling her I needed to be alone, because I couldn’t kick her out of her second bedroom.
I was in her space, using her shower, eating her food, and connecting to her internet for work. “Please,” I begged.
Footsteps neared the edge of my makeshift bed. “Boo.”
My eyes popped open because the voice was familiar, but it wasn’t Brianna. I flipped over, throwing my blazer across the room. “Kay?”
Kayla grinned at me. “Girl, you look crazy right now.”
I patted my hair, cringing when I ran my finger over a crunchy strand. “When did you get here?”
She picked up the empty tub of sherbet and set it on the desk. “This morning. Why are you still asleep at noon on a Monday?” She scanned the room. “Wait … Did you sleep on a pile of dirty laundry?”
“I couldn’t make it to the bed. I’m broken,” I mumbled.
“Aw, Pookie.” She tossed a pair of jeans into the hamper. “You’re going to be okay.”
When I became friends with Brianna, I gained an extended family. Her big sister was my big sister, too. Our decision to attend Howard University had everything to do with the fact that Kay was already on campus. Which meant we had much-needed support.
“Okay.” Taking a seat on the floor next to my pallet, Kay crossed her legs. “I’ma need you to get it together.” She gestured to all the clothes. “Put a load in the washing machine, and get yo’ ass in the shower because you look—and smell—like you consumed a fifth of liquor.”
“Preferably sooner than later,” Bri added, walking into the room with two mugs.
The smell of coffee and hazelnut wafted to my nose, while the steam coming off the mug lulled me into a trance. I held my hands out. “I hope that’s for me.”
She handed Kay one of the cups. “No, it’s not.”
Frowning, I asked, “Are you serious?”
Brianna took a sip from the mug she had in her hand. “As a heart attack.” She pulled a bottle of water from the pocket of her robe and dropped it on my lap. “This is for you.”
I muttered a curse as I untwisted the cap on the bottle. “I can’t stand you right now.”
“I don’t care.” Bri batted her eyelashes at me. “I’ll have another lemon drop, please,” she mocked with an exaggerated slur.
Gaping at her, I asked, “Is that how I sounded?”
“Don’t worry, I recorded you,” Bri assured.
Giggling, Kay set her mug down on the rug. “It’s funny, too.” Apparently, the video of my drunken stupor propelled her to book a last-minute ticket on the first flight this morning. “Anyway, what the hell is going on here, Pookie?”
She was the only person in the world that called me that. I wasn’t sure why or even when it started, but it annoyed the hell out of me because it reminded me of Chris Rock in the movie New Jack City.
“I’ve never seen you like this before,” Kay continued. “By noon, you usually have the first several items on your to-do list checked off.”
“I do have something checked off,” I lied.
She folded her arms over her chest. “Like what?”
“I woke up.” I’m full of shit. “And I drank water.”
Brianna snorted. “I’m glad you’re here, Sissy.” She leaned against the desk. “I needed reinforcements.”
“You make me sick.” I glared at my bestie. “I can’t believe you recorded me.”
“Sure did,” Bri replied. “You should’ve seen Ma’s face.”
“You told Mama G?” I yelled. “Oh God.”
My behavior was embarrassing enough without Bri sharing it with the woman who’d become a second mother to me.
When were in college, Mama G checked in on me more than my parents did, and almost as much as Grandma.
She’d sent us care packages of Detroit-made treats monthly.
Better Made potato chips, original and red hot.
Faygo Red Pop for Bri and Rock & Rye for me.
A case of Vernors soda, which was a staple in most Detroit households and especially good to drink when sick.
Kar’s original Sweet ’N Salty trail mix.
Several bags of Nick’s Hot Sauce Corn Chips.
Germack pistachios. Sanders chocolate candy.
Everything that we could think of that reminded us of the D.
“She’s going to call you,” Bri added. “She’s very concerned. So am I.”
“Me, too,” Kay chimed in. “You’ve been through so much. We want to support you.”
The best part of being back home was getting to spend time with lifelong friends.
Friends that had seen me at my best and my worst yet still loved me.
Kay was engaged to her first love, Amir.
She’d been in Milwaukee with his family, celebrating his great aunt’s eightieth birthday.
Now, she was here making sure I was good.
I glanced at my friends, so accomplished in their careers.
While Bri’s day job as a data manager for the local utilities company earned her a great living, it was her side hustle as a professional gamer that had increased her net worth.
And Kay was a talented prosthodontist and had recently opened a private practice with her soon-to-be husband.
I was happy for them. Really. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel like a complete failure around them sometimes.
Especially now that I was unemployed again.
“You both have already supported me.” I blew out a heavy sigh. “I had a moment last night. No more wallowing. No more lemon drops.”
“It’s okay”—Kay waved a dismissive hand—“I needed an excuse to come home early. I have so much to do before the wedding. The last thing I want to do is listen to Amir’s mother drone on and on about their important family history.
And you know they can’t cook, so we had dinner at this hoity-toity restaurant.
I felt bad for his auntie because all she wanted was a Big Mac.
” She sniffed her shirt. “Shit, I still smell like mothballs.”
Bri winced. “I didn’t want to tell you.”
Kay tossed one of my bras at her sister. “Ugh.” She glanced at me. “Do you smell it?”
I shrugged. “A little bit.”
“A little?” Bri exclaimed. “She’s being nice, Kay. It smells like you bathed in them joints.”
Muttering a string of curses, Kay pulled her Howard Bison hoodie off and tossed it in the hamper. “Wash that when you wash your clothes, ma’am.” She sighed. “Anyway, what is going on with you?”
When Bri spotted the empty sherbet container, she held it up. “You ate the whole thing? I just bought that the other day.”
“I was hungry.” I let out a loud burp. As much as I hated to admit it, I needed to wash my ass. “Fine. It’s me.” I struggled to stand, but Bri gripped my wrist and pulled me to my feet. But I didn’t go to the bathroom. Instead, I climbed into the bed and burrowed into a pillow. “I’m the problem.”
“Girl, stop,” Kay ordered, fluffing her long curls. “Let’s talk this out.”
Sighing, I announced, “I fucked up.” In my drunken stupor, I’d hastily sent an email, the wrong email to Granny Joyce.
You know, the one declining the job offer.
That was bad enough, but I’d added an extra paragraph at the end.
It was so awful, totally unprofessional.
I didn’t want to read it out loud, so I grabbed my phone, opened my sent messages and let them read it.
Kay read the first part in silence. She gasped, meeting my gaze before she finished reading aloud, “P.S. Don’t be mad at me, but Jackson probably deserved that beatdown at the fundraiser.
He’s an ass who always tried to look up my dress in middle school.
And he used to try to trick me into playing Hide and Go Get It.
He’s probably a sexual predator. Anyway, Granny Joyce.
I love you. I hate that I can’t compartmentalize and do this job because I really need the money.
My ex-husband broke me. Not my heart, but my bank account.
Like I literally have no income, no money in the bank, no home of my own.
I’m a bum. Thanks for listening. Love you. Bye.”
“Shit,” Bri murmured. “You really went there, huh?”
I shot my bestie a sidelong glance. “Please take my phone away from me if get drunk again,” I whined. “I can’t believe I did this.”
“You have to call her,” Bri suggested.
Gaping at her, I shook my head. “No. I’m not doing that. I can’t talk to her after this.”
“Well”—Kay smacked her legs with her palms—“what else are you going to do? Like you said, you don’t have the money. You can’t wallow. You made a mistake, and now you have to fix it and get your job back.”
“What if I don’t want it back?” I nibbled on my bottom lip. “Yes, the email sucked. It was reckless. Stupid. But, I’m not wrong to want to quit.”
“How do you figure?” Kay asked, raising a questioning brow. “You said it yourself, you need the money.”
“Money isn’t everything,” I countered.