Page 11 of A Temporary Forever

Let’s have lunch today.

Saar

My flight leaves tonight, so we’re good. @Celeste?

Cora

She’s probably still sleeping.

Saar

Partying all night after that amazing performance.

Let’s meet at one at your place @Cora.

Cora

(kiss emoji)

Igroan as I turn around in my bed, my body screaming. It’s no wonder, after dancing and then crying and raging all night.

I ignore the missed calls from Jose and all the messages from my colleagues. Missing the party last night is the least of my issues.

I don’t respond to Cora and Saar, because if I canceled, they would come over. With it being Saar’s last day here, she’ll insist on meeting up. Getting out of that one is impossible.

I don’t feel like dragging myself out of bed. Or across the town to Cora’s bistro. Or to the theater tonight.

Or anywhere.

Ever.

My visa has always been tied to my work. A cabaret I used to work at had taken care of the renewals. I never needed to keep up with the paperwork.

Paperwork gives me anxiety.

Offices cause hives.

Officials make me want to curl into a ball and roll away.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t stay on top of Reinhard. Not that knowing why would help at this point.

Ever since the night my mother died and the policebarely acted, I don’t trust the system.Because ignoring it will make it go away. Magnifique, Celeste.

My stomach growls, and I shuffle out of my bed and reach for the fridge in the kitchen corner. I can’t afford more than a shoebox of an apartment. Everything is at arm’s length. On a morning like this, it’s a welcome problem.

The state inside my fridge is not as welcome. I bang my forehead against the door. With the busy rehearsal schedule, I neglected to grocery shop. Merde.

I force myself to stretch my limbs for twenty minutes, because I might be unemployed after tonight, but my body is still my only currency.

Dressing up in a white button-down shirt and dark green slacks that flare up at the waist, I decide to quit the pity party.

I was in a similar predicament almost a year ago, and an opportunity opened up. This time will be the same.

I smile at myself in the mirror. Fake as fuck, but it’s all I have at the moment, so it will have to do.

It takes me another fifteen minutes to get to Chelsea, and when I enter Cora’s bistro, I find the girls laughing at something.

Even Cora, who is usually very busy, is sitting at the table with Saar, relaxed. Her shiny ginger hair, usually tied in a ponytail, is blown out.

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