Page 115 of Keep Me

I shrug. “Thanks.”

“Do your parents know you’re back?”

My spine stiffens. Rather than have a conversation with this woman from the next table, I decide to join her at hers. For a woman Istilldespise, this feels like a very mature step for me.

“No,” I reply. “Please, don’t tell them.”

She scoffs. “Oh, I don’t work for them anymore.”

My jaw drops. “What?”

“They fired me back in July.”

I knit my brow as I recount the last time I saw them. They never said anything about firing Enid, and she’s been with them for years.

“Artists,” she says with an eye roll. “So temperamental.”

“Did it have to do with me?” I ask, which immediately makes me feel like an idiot. Of course, it doesn’t. Nothing in my parents’ life ever has to do with me.

“Yes,” she says plainly. Staring right into my eyes, she says, “I told them what a self-serving, entitled, talentless brat you are.”

We stare at each other before a chuckle bubbles from my lips, spilling out into a full laugh. Tears fill my eyes, and I can’t seem to stop myself.

She doesn’t laugh with me, but she doesn’t look as mean and miserable as she usually does either. Who knows, maybe Enid got laid this year and it made her loosen up a little.

When my laughter finally dies down, I wipe my tears and let out a heavy sigh.

“I thought you’d like to hear that,” she says softly.

“I did. It’s probably the most they’re ever going to stick up for me, but it’s nice.”

She nods. “You’re probably right. Just remember, it’s not you. It’s them.”

“Oh, you’re on my side now?” I reply with a laugh.

She shrugs. “They don’t sign my paychecks anymore. And I started to feel as if they never reallysawme anyway.”

“I know how that feels,” I reply, staring down at the coffee cup in my hands. “Well, thank you for telling me that.”

“You’re welcome.”

I’m about to stand up to return to my table when she asks, “Is it true your husband threw arugat them?”

This time, we both break out into laughter just before I tell her the whole story.

***

Most nights, I don’t sleep much. I’ve been home now for over a month and a half, and I still blame jet lag for the reason I’m wide awake at 3 a.m. Part of me wonders if it’s because I know somewhere he’s awake too. When he’s active, I can’t rest. We are that in tune now.

With time, I’m sure it will wear off, but so far I can’t get through a single night without crying myself to sleep.

On this particular night, I wake up at three in the morning with a new text message. I bolt upright as I stare at the screen.

Killian: I like the ending.

The sight of his name makes my chest seize up, and my cheeks grow hot. Just four words, and I feel whole again.

It takes me a moment before I realize he is referring to my story.

---