Page 29 of Fake It 'til You Make It

11

ABBEY

‘The dating cavalry has arrived!’ Dee announces when I open my apartment door.

Shernette holds up a large brown paper bag. ‘And we come bearing both alcoholic and non-alcoholic prosecco and chips.’

‘A fine pairing,’ I say, laughing as the girls step inside.

Tonight, we are enjoying this apartment and simultaneously commencing Operation: Find Abbey a Date for the Vow Renewal.

We head into the kitchen, where Dee does a stellar job of locating glass flutes in the first cupboard she tries. I put this down less to her knowing her way around a food preparation area and more to her familiarity with a girls’ night in.

Whilst Dee pours drinks, Shernette empties two large packets of chips into bowls and for balance, I take a crudité platter and dips (peanut satay included) that I prepared earlier from the refrigerator.

‘You can nudge the coffee table in my direction,’ Dee says as we bring the food and drinks to sit in my lounge area, which the owners furnished with a U-shaped leather sofa, meaning no matter where you sit, you can enjoy the view.

Having lived in New York since I was in post-grad college, I’ve seen the skyline more times than I can count, but there’s something special about seeing it from the comfort of my own front lounge. 120 Wall Street. 40 Wall Street. One World Trade Center. The Woolworth Building.

‘Despite yet another failed day of job hunting today, I have faith that I’ll find something to pay my rent here before my six months is up. Because as long as I’m in New York, I don’t want to give up this view,’ I tell the girls, before dunking a carrot into hummus and sitting back onto the sofa.

‘See, I knew you would eventually come round. This is going to be a great exercise for you,’ Dee says, pulling the coffee table closer to her side of the U and taking a huge handful of chips from the bowl nearest to her. ‘No judgment, please, this is the first hour I’ve not felt like I’m going to hurl my guts up all day.’

‘The nausea isn’t letting up, huh?’ I ask.

‘Apparently most women improve after the first trimester. But I googled this condition called hyperemesis gravidarum and I’m sure I have it. I feel so ill and tired, like, all the time. And that condition might last for the entire pregnancy.’

Shernette and I exchange a quizzical look.

Dee points at me with one hand as she shoves more chips in her mouth with the other. After a round of crunching, she tells me, ‘You don’t know how awful this is, okay? I’m certain I’ve got it.’ Shernette rolls her eyes and Dee adds, in her direction, ‘You too, girlfriend.’

Once her laughter has subsided, Shernette turns to me. ‘So no luck with the job hunting?’

I shake my head. ‘There’s nothing obvious out there. But I’ve polished my resume, which is equivalent to polishing a turd when you’ve quit because you screwed up so badly you were about to be fired.’

‘But you weren’t fired,’ Shernette says. ‘In fact, I wouldn’t have been so certain that it wasn’t Greg who messed up those figures. It wouldn’t have been the first time. I speak from experience.’

‘Honestly, sis, if I quit a job every time I screwed up, I’d have never filmed an episode of anything.’

Though grateful for their support, I did mess up. Fundamentally. I almost cost the firm a client. I can’t simply do a TAKE TWO. And if someone was going to be fired, it should have been me. Greg didn’t even look at my report, I don’t think.

‘I’m at the point of thinking I need to email people and ask for coffees, make unsolicited enquiries,’ I say, moving the conversation along. ‘Of course, if I could decide what I might be suited to for a job, that would be a lot easier.’

Dee grabs another large handful of chips. ‘You’re not going to work with numbers anymore? Youlovenumbers. Totally weird but numbers are yourthing.’

‘Evidently not. I don’t know. I always wanted to be a business analyst but I never felt like I’d have the confidence to give guidance to some big business tycoon.’

‘But the new you…’ Shernette says.

‘Is faking it,’ I tell her. ‘Plus, it would still involve numbers. Urgh, maybe I need a wholescale career change.’

‘One that matches your new wardrobe,’ Dee adds. ‘Cute pants, by the way; who picked those out for you?’

‘Oh, maybe someone with an eye for fashion and the flamboyant?’

She’s referring to my satin lounge pants that are completely unlike the real me. They’re bright and bold jungle print but I have teamed them with a plain black tee to tone them down. ‘Anyway, let’s get started on the other crisis area in my life, shall we?’

‘Yes!’ Shernette says, reaching into the large purse by her feetand slipping out her pink laptop. ‘Sorry, not yes to the crisis bit but to the fact I amfinallygetting you on a dating site.’

---