Page 15 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

“What? Are you serious?” I glance between the two of them.

Megan stares at me. Lynette joins her.

I have learned one thing over the years. If I dispute these two when they are pontificating about imagined realities or insisting some fantastical idea is actually fact, I’ll only incite them into trying to convince me how right they are. So, I pick up the fortune cookie, pop one half in my mouth, and when the crisp vanilla wafer starts to melt, I swallow and put the other half in my mouth, downing it as well.

“There. Are you two happy?”

“Very,” Lynette assures me.

“I wonder who it will be,” Megan says to Lynette, that same wistful tone to her voice..

“It’s so mysterious,” Lynette answers her. “And exciting.”

I take a bite of my pizza and chew, take another bite, chew, and repeat until they have worn themselves out speculating about what this one miniscule piece of randomly preprinted paper has to do with my actual life.

“You know what I really wonder?” Lynette asks Megan, glancing over at me briefly.

“What?” Megan says.

“Who got Gran’s apartment?”

“I know,” Megan says. “Me too. Have you seen your new neighbor yet, Olivia?”

“No, I haven’t. Not yet. I’m curious too. I’ll keep you posted as soon as I see her—him … or them.”

After we finish the pizza, the three of us curl up on my couch to watch a movie. About halfway through, I start to yawn.

“It’s been a long day,” I announce. “You two are welcome to stay the night, but I only have the couch to offer you.”

“No,” Megan says. “I need to sleep in an actual bed. I’m going to head out.”

“Me too,” Lynette says, stretching her arms overhead. “Happy housewarming!”

We all stand and walk toward the door.

“Thanks. And thanks for rallying your friends to lug the big stuff upstairs for me. You two are the best. And thank Mom for taking Cassidy so you could be here.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Lynette says, curtseying dramatically and giggling.

“We love you,” Megan says.

I pull her into a hug. “I love you too. Drive safely.”

Lynette and I hug, and then I watch as the two of them turn to walk through the front lounge area toward the elevators. My gaze drifts in the direction of apartment 2B. I can’t see the actual apartment, but I know it’s there. A small, private, nostalgic smile bubbles up from my heart to my mouth.

I live in The Serendipity.

The next morning, I open my bathroom drawer to pull out a hair tie so I can go on my morning run. What I see in the back corner of my drawer has me rubbing my eyes. Right there, behind my brush and my curling iron, is a tan cookie in a telltale cellophane wrapper.

“What on earth?” I say to no one.

“Okay. This is just weird. Who leaves cookies in the bathroom?”

Annnndnow I’m talking to myself.

I was the one who put my hair stuff in this drawer. And I opened it after my shower to brush out my hair when it was wet. You’d think I’d have noticed a fortune cookie. I guess the lighting must have been different then.

And what’s with the old tenant of this apartment, hoarding fortune cookies in the backs of cabinets and drawers? It’s not like they’re Godiva chocolate.

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