Page 50 of Flying

All the magic is gone now. Reality crashed in and is catching back up to us. The bubble we’d created to protect us popped.

thirty-six

Lily

Martin Luther King, Jr. Weekend

I’m bored.Clients trickle in and out in the usual rhythm with little to do between except time to think about everything on my mind from my therapy sessions and the upcoming expectations in New Jersey.

When I left, I was running from being restricted and ridiculed. I’m smart, but I can have inconsistent motivation. I like people, but they can be exhausting. Moving around has allowed me to have the people I love continue to love me. I never overwhelm them with my messy feelings or cluttered space. I’ve been able to impress each boss for short periods of time, but never enough to be asked to stay or return.

Just enough to keep the references moving from each place, right?

Have I asked to come back? Is that on them or me?I’m not sure.

I’ve always been a bit of a daydreamer.

Of course my ability to believe I’m lovable is broken: my mother’s conditional love, my father’s unwavering allegiance to his wife, and my first boyfriend-turned-husband cheated so quickly it was impossible to not feel responsible. The fire was fueled by Belinda’s line of questions, and they lacked empathy or concern for me. The way she just relinquished me to theuniverse and never looked back really put another nail in the coffin there too.

Right, this is the story I’ve told myself for so long and yet it hasn’t helped me to grow, change, or feel lovable.

I’m so deeply lost in these thoughts, that I barely hear the next client approach. She must have cleared her throat a few times based on the extreme irritation I can feel vibrating off her. I look up expecting to see a prim older woman shooting daggers at me while clutching a bag worth more than all of my possessions combined twice over. I am about to check her in but instead nearly fall off my seat when I see long blonde waves and sharp dark eyebrows studying me from over her shoulder.

“What the hell, Nessa?” I am practically shouting.

My manager comes out and shushes us, taking over forBirkin Bag Lady. “I am so sorry, miss, I will have a serious talk with her,” Joanne chides me.

“I’m so sorry ma’am, the guest behind you is someone I grew up with who should be in New Jersey right now, I’ll let Joanne continue to help you get situated. May I take my lunch now to see what brings her west?”

Nessa does her usual Nessa thing and smirks and thanks Joanne and quips, “Nope, I’m your next massage to check in. Couples massage for Barbie and,” with a thick clearing of her throat, a sheepish Stef slinks forward from the hallway, “Barbie & Kendall Roberts.”

I’m laughing but shaking my head in disbelief, this is so something Nessa would do—use the dolls names to ambush me. Joanne is not exactly the warm and fuzzy kind, in fact she’s downright tired of the seasonal staff by this point and she turns on her heels and heads back to her office.

A few hours later,once they’ve been pampered to the nines, Nessa and Stef meet me after my shift and drag me to the hotel bar. Over a round of the most amazing espresso martinis we start to discuss this ambush.

“Happy long weekend, how was the massage?” I hedge hoping to keep this easy going.

“Amazing, ugh, I needed a break from wedding planning, it’s the worst and the best all at the same time. I swear, we’ve been living together like this forever. I don’t even care anymore…” Stef starts to take the bait when Nessa cuts in.

“Nope. No distractions by pulling out wedding talk unless it is to discuss your role, Ms. Long.”

“I told River I’d come back sometime in March, I just don’t have a final date here yet to book something, so let’s focus on April and May and the events we have to plan, okay?” I ask, trying to appear totally comfortable. “Susan isn’t that mad to have a little more time to prepare? Maybe we can consolidate the events together in April.” We study the calendar open on the iPad Stef produces from her bag.

“There could be some sort of argument that she’ll have better floral options by doing it in the true spring,” Nessa suggests clearly working through the spin that will support making this happen for us to have Delia around.

“Do you think we could leverage that River has the construction going on too?” They both look at me waiting.

Once I heard his name, the hairs on the back of my neck start to tingle. Play it cool, play it cool, I instruct myself. River and I have been okay since my embarrassing meltdown in the car, particularly since Dorothea and I started to discuss how ADHD impacts memory and mood. He was pretty quick to forgive when he was able to make his flight home and realized how beyond mortified I was. Even if it took me a few weeks to stop replaying my embarrassment when I should have been sleeping, which, thanks to this conversation may return tonight,yay.

Nessa disapproves with her full face and body language, before taunting, “Given that his plans are based on your Denver tour, spare us the faux confusion. That farm place. The fancy pants outdoor set ups that rival his front yard tables by making it all grown right there and supporting the community. There’s no way he found that without you.”

Beaming with pride, I confirm, “Rami Farms, in the River North District.”

She and Stef exchange a complete gotcha look.

Stef, always the one to give you the details straightforward and lovingly, simply adds, “He is obsessed. The trip, the girl,” she lingers, stretching the word out like it has multiple syllables in it.

I feel my cheeks flush, and sip my ice water hoping to calm the flush while shifting the subject back to wedding plans. “So he’s going to mimic the community garden farm to table, and we’d be early in the season so it would be a lot of dirt boxes wouldn’t it? How could that work?”

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