Page 4 of The Kiss Countdown

With the money I’ve been saving up for years and the severance package I received from my old job, I have enough to ride out this price increase for another lease term, but not enough to pay for rentandhelp my parents.

How did this catch me off guard? I should have expected it when new management took over. The apartments were renamed the Hidden Palms three months ago; I’d just been too focused on my misery to care. It’s always the same story. First, rebranding: new name, new paint, balloons out front. Next, they start promoting social eventsto “get to know your fellow tenants,” along with perks like free massages on Wednesdays. A few months later—when they know they’ve got you—the price hikes kick in. Shit like this should be illegal.

This, however, is a worry for another day. In fact, an increase in rent won’t be a worry at all if I get my business up and running with a bang.

On that thought, I place the pink paper beside my keys and head to my bedroom. My hoodie is exchanged for a cream silk blouse. Powder and lip gloss give my complexion a little life. With Gina’s voice in my head, I put my hair in a low curly ponytail and smooth my edges, and I’m camera-ready.

I get out my brand-new computer. It was one of the pricey but necessary purchases I had to make when I decided to venture out on my own, since the one I’d been using for years belonged to Jacob and Johnson. I forked out even more money to load it with planning software.

Pulling up Zoom, I click on the link and wait with bated breath for my potential client to show up.

After ten minutes I send her a text message.

Me: Hey, I just want to make sure you’ve got the link. Here it is again. I can’t wait to chat about your daughter’s quinceañera!

Right away, I see the message has been read, but she doesn’t respond. Maybe she’s running behind or just now waking up. Nine is still early for some, especially parents trying to shuttle kids to school and fight Houston traffic, so as I watch the clock in the bottom corner of my screen change from 9:14 to 9:15, I try to cling to the hope that she’ll join me any second. Unable to help myself, I glancetoward the front door, where the too-bright pink paper shouts at me from beside my keys, and force down the rising fear that wants to swallow me whole at the thought of what I’ll do if this venture doesn’t pan out. Then, after twenty more torturous minutes, I leave the virtual meeting. No one is joining me.

My reputation has preceded me, and not the one I painstakingly created over years of being one of the best event planners Houston has to offer.

I turn off my ring light, wash my face, and curl up in bed.

Chapter Two

As my phone rings on my second loop around the golf course, I pull it from my front pocket to see a picture of my mom cradling a bundle of purple yarn.

I do my best to muster a smile I don’t feel, knowing she’ll be able to hear it through the distance, and answer. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, Mimi. How’s it going?” Her voice is warm and loving, doing the trick to turn my brittle smile real, if only for a second.

“I’m okay,” I say. “You’re up early. Have you and Daddy made it to Las Vegas?”

“Not yet. We decided to visit the Grand Canyon first. And my Lord, what a sight it is.” Her carefree laugh squeezes my heart. “Imagine the widest, deepest, most beautiful wonder you’ve ever seen on TV, and multiply it by ten. Words don’t do it justice. And the stars! So many light up the sky at night, you don’t even need a flashlight once your eyes adjust. A group from the local university set up telescopes for guests to look through, and we even saw the International Space Station pass by. Oh! Your dad did one of those tours on a donkey and got some unbelievable pictures. It’s amazing out here, Mimi.” She sighs into the speaker. “I wish we could’ve come here as a family when you were younger.”

I love hearing about my parents’ adventures. We were nomads when I was a kid, though not in the sense that we traveled from city to city, exploring all that the world had to offer. More like we hopped from apartment to apartment throughout the years. They were always cheap, mostly sketchy and cramped, but more than accommodating to renters who couldn’t commit to long leases. With my dad working one stable job that barely covered rent and Mom’s constant medical bills, it was all we could afford. It wasn’t until I graduated high school and my dad was promoted to a manager that they broke the cycle of endless moving. Now my parents have a cute three bed, two bath. They aren’t rich by any means, but their reversal of fortune is nothing short of amazing. And as happy as I am for them, I’d be lying if I didn’t also wish it had happened before I was an adult.

Sure, I have my own designated room in their house that I stayed in during college breaks, but I’ve always felt more like a guest there. My apartment is the only place that’s ever truly been mine, and the possibility of losing it and turning into a rolling stone again fills me with unshakable dread.

“You know I don’t like heights, Momma,” I say, trying not to let my somber thoughts leak through my tone. “But you and Daddy eat your hearts out. Make sure you’re having tons of fun, and send me pictures when you can. You’ve been taking your medicine, right? How have you been feeling?”

“Don’t worry about me, Mimi. I feel good. This RV trip is just what the doctor ordered. Who knows, I may even be able to convince your dad to sell the house, and we’ll just travel full-time.”

“Tell your mom to quit dabblin’ in whatever she’s been smokin’.” My dad’s booming baritone voice comes through clearly, and I realize I must be on speakerphone.

“Hi, Daddy. I hope you’re not letting Momma run you too ragged,” I tease as I begin walking toward Moon Bean.

“Have you met your momma? Supposed to be out here workin’, but she’s got me stoppin’ at every monument, museum, and Waffle House like she’s the one paying me.” After a second, Dad laughs, and I can imagine him stroking Mom’s hand while she glares at him.

“Hardy-har-har,” Mom says drily. “Now tell me, how areyou, Mimi? We missed you so much on Christmas. I’m sorry we couldn’t call, but how was it? What did Derrick get you? For your dad’s sake, I hope it wasn’t another Titans jersey.”

Mom and Dad are doing the double duty of checking in on each warehouse that answers to Dad while also taking the opportunity to sightsee. Since they often travel through back roads, I couldn’t get through to wish them a Merry Christmas. Gina also went out of town to visit Mack’s family, so for the first time in my life, I spent the holiday alone.

“Christmas was fine. But, um, Derrick and I decided not to exchange gifts. So no jerseys, Daddy.” Technically, it’s the truth.

While I’ve always known my mom is living on borrowed time more than the average fifty-year-old, when she was hospitalized from complications with her sickle-cell anemia ten months ago and needed an emergency splenectomy, I was the one who took it the hardest. I was tortured with thoughts of what living in a world without her to turn to would encompass, leaving me unable to eat, sleep, or hold conversations. Once she was released from the hospital, she and Dad worried more about my emotional stability than her follow-up appointments and rest. If they knew the call I took when I stepped out of the room was not my boss checking on her but actually firing me, theynever would have left for their trip. So I’ve kept from them the truth of my job and my breakup with Derrick to ensure they’ll focus on the time they have together, not me.

“We can talk more about the holidays later,” I say. “I want to hear more about the Grand Canyon.”

By the time I make it to the coffee shop, the connection is bad enough that everything they say is a garbled mess. We hang up, with my parents shout-promising to send pictures, and I pull the phone away from my ear, once again alone in every sense. My smile falters, and I let my shoulders fall under the combined weight of feeling like a failure for not being able to get my business off the ground and feeling guilty for keeping secrets from my parents. Especially about the hospital bill.

---