Page 18 of So Not My Type

Ella could never fathom what her parents felt when they went from chatting over banana pancakes to having your child seize on the kitchen floor. Apparently, there was no warning. No genetics, no head trauma, no prenatal trauma, nothing. For years, they visited every doctor, every specialist, flew all over the country, to find out when, how, and why these occurred. The doctors put Ella on different medications, ones that hurt her stomach, or made her sleep for half a day, or made her head scream in pain. She had terrifying electrodes attached to her hair, and she cried at night trying to remove the glue. Her mother, panicked that Ella would seize in her sleep, kicked her dad into one of the guest rooms, and had Ella sleep next to her for years.

Short, quick visions emerged of her un-showered mom lying in her bed, exhausted and crying. She remembered one night hearing horrifying sounds coming from her dad’s office, and was sure that an injured animal had snuck through the window. But instead of seeing a cow or horse, she saw his shoulders crumpled and shaking, his hearty laughter swapped for a hollowed sob.

But then her mother channeled all her fear into suffocating Ella. She seemed to believe if she controlled everything, she could protect Ella. No matter how strong, how emotionless her mom appeared, Ella saw it in her face. She was fifty-five, but looked older. All the forehead Botox and fancy skin cream in the world couldn’t hide the worry bags around her eyes.

Ella’s phone beeped that the Uber had arrived.Thank God.“Gotta go. I promise, I’ll call the doctor later today.” As she went to toss the phone in her purse, an email notification popped up from Sophie. Her gaze flew across the screen.

Her mother called out something, but Ella ignored her. Right now, Ella had more pressing items to attend to.

SEVEN

SOPHIE

Sophie pulled open the door to her favorite coffee shop, Sugar Mugs. A quaint shop plunked in the middle of a residential neighborhood, where the owner, Charlie, had converted the house’s downstairs living space into the shop. The deep hues of freshly brewed espresso hit Sophie’s nose, and soon she was in a sea of rainbows, plants, and Macklemore. She had to smile… Charlie had an obvious fascination with the Seattle rapper.

The line moved swiftly, as two baristas built drinks while Charlie charmed the customers at the till. Sophie reached the counter and grinned at Charlie, who pushed her long, curly red braid away from her face. “Sophie, hey! Haven’t seen you for a minute.”

Sophie dug out her wallet. “I know, I’ve been stupid busy at work.”

“Isn’t that the theme of your life? Or so Maya says.” Charlie grabbed an empty cup and a marker. “What can I get you?”

“Something salty and sugary and super terrible for me.”

“I have the perfect one.” Charlie waved the Sharpie in the air. “Loving your outfit.”

Sophie flashed her hand across her Guns N’ Roses T-shirt, ripped cropped mom jeans, and flannel. “This old thing?” Shelaughed, hating that it took her longer than normal to pick out aI don’t care (but I actually really care)outfit. “When did you chat with Maya?” A small ache in Sophie’s heart grew that besides the recent hiking trip, everyone else saw her best friend more than her.

“We had movie night with her, Remi, and Ben a couple days ago.” Charlie scribbled on a cup and set it behind her. “I hope you can make it one of these times.”

Work sucked every ounce of Sophie’s free time. It wasn’t lost on her that she stopped receiving invites for most things. Maya still let her know about movie nights, but it was clear no one expected her to show.

But soon, work would calm down, and she could live a more balanced life. Once she finished this Devil’s Doughnuts campaign, things would change. Her inner voice whispered snidely that she’d been saying this line to herself for the last six years.

She shushed it.

She crossed over to the order pickup line and swiped through work emails on her phone.

“Have you ever thought we are in one of those strange, universal swirls, likeThe Matrixor something?” Charlie asked while frothing milk. “Maybe more like queerDays of Our Lives?”

Sophie lowered her cell. “What do you mean?”

“Your bestie is stupidly in love with my bestie’s roommate.”

A very small queer world indeed. Charlie’s best friend, Ben, had been roommates with Maya’s girlfriend, Remi, since they were teens. “And now your bestie sees my bestie more than me.”

“That’s a lot of besties happening. I’m already confused.” Charlie handed her the drink. “Maybe we should dump them, and you and I can become besties.”

“I kind of love that idea.” Sophie blew into the cup and took a small sip, the salted caramel and chocolate flavor hitting her taste buds.Yum.She glanced around the filled coffee shop for Charlie’s girlfriend. “Is Mack around?”

Charlie wiped a minor spill in front of Sophie. “No, she’s with her dad. They had a super early tee time.”

“Golfing?” Sophie asked. “I can’t even picture that.”

“I know. She was all paranoid about getting grass stains.” Charlie tossed the rag behind her. “This is good for her.” A group of customers entered the shop, and Sophie moved to a table.

Sophie breathed a sigh of relief that Mack wasn’t here. Mack was a talented author and Sophie, much like most of the country, had devoured her debut thriller a few years back. Sophie tried not to flush at the memory of when she’d attended Mack’s book signing in Seattle and shamelessly flirted with the woman.So embarrassing. Of course, she’d had no idea Mack was with Charlie at the time. The few times she’d seen Mack since then, Mack never said anything, and Sophie never said anything. Instead, she prayed to the lesbian gods that Mack forgot about the interaction.

As mortifying as that situation was, it also highlighted a dejecting truth—the interaction with Mack was one of a few times in recent memories that Sophie hit on anyone. Her dry spell was a legit famine-level, shriveled-up, dehydrated state of being, and she really needed to get laid by something that didn’t require a USB cable. She pulled out a dating app and her belly sank. Not that dating apps were wrong, but because she had zero free time, she usually looked at the hookup-only statuses. And after a few swipes, she felt cheap. Hookups were fine, great, even—for people who only wanted hookups.

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