Page 87 of Roommating

She insists I make this promise every time I see her. Unwilling to take no for an answer, she’s put off booking the trip, but this is the final week of her show so I’m running out of time. If I go with her, I can cancel my registration for summer school, which starts next week, for a full refund, but I’ll need to tell Jenny right away so she can organize coverage at the library in my absence. The good news is, jobs in libraries, even temporary, are in high demand. It only took a few days to find Adam’s replacement, a college student gettingher BA in library and information science. She’sfine, but she’s not Adam. (Although at least I’m not distracted by the perfect fit ofherjeans or tempted to get to third base withherin the elevator.)

I break myself out of that particular train of thought and back to the issue at hand. Why am I even thinking about who would cover for me at work? I’m not going with Carley. Ican’tgo with Carley. But lately, my outward insistence of this fact to the woman herself has been sorely lacking conviction.

“Shit. Work.” Carley vaults off the couch. “I need to get to the theater!” She runs to Marcia’s bedroom and returns with her bag of equipment slung over her shoulder. “Don’t think about Adam. Think about Paris and visiting the Pont des Arts and Palais-Royal Garden! Pain au chocolat at Boulangerie Moderne!” Then she kisses me on both cheeks European style and leaves.

My phone pings with a text.

Audrina:come home this wknd

Sabrina:Why?

Audrina:I won free massage appointments in the company raffle

I place my phone on the coffee table and consider the offer. The round-trip train ticket would mean more charges on my credit card that I can’t afford to pay off, but otherwise staying at my mom’s usually costs me nothing because either we eat at her house or she takes us out. Between adjusting to life post-Adam and getting an F in adulting, I could definitely use a massage, and considering I’m in the financial doghouse, I can only afford a free one.

Sabrina: Make appointments for Sunday. I’m working Saturday morning but I’ll leave straight from the library. Don’t eat dinner without me

Audrina:Bossy, much? But yes

In slightly better spirits, I rise to walk Rocket. He needs to go out and I need to do something that doesn’t cost any money.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

All tension has left my body post massage. My muscles feel like Jell-O. Wanting to extend this afterglow as long as possible, I take the glass of cucumber water my masseuse, Gary, handed me into the waiting room and fill a cup with a mixture of raw nuts, banana chips, and dried fruit. Then, still in my robe and slippers, I sink onto a beige suede reclining chair next to my mom and sister, who it seems aren’t in any rush to return to reality either. I breathe in the scent of eucalyptus oil as a feeling of well-being washes over me.

My mom’s eyes open halfway. “How was it?” The words come out drowsy, almost like she’s on drugs.

“Amazing,” I whisper back. “Yours?”

“Same.” She closes her eyes again and smiles contentedly.

For the next several minutes, the room is silent as the three of us enjoy the blissful aftermath of our treatments. The version of Sabrina who walked into the spa two hours earlier, wound up and heavyhearted, no longer exists. Thanks to Gary’s long, kneading strokes along my body with jojoba oil, I have a new outlook on life. Living with Adam was a learning experience. It taught me I’m capable of compromise and flexible with my space and routine. And yes, it was also fun. I hadn’t made time for boys and sex, and he got me out of my drought. But it was theideaof him that I liked—a smart, funny, kind… okay,hot, man who loves books, dogs, and his grandmother, and isn’t tooalpha to admit he’s horrible at techie stuff—not him specifically. Now I know those men exist and I will meet someone else eventually.

I suddenly feel a burst of gratitude for my big sister for unknowingly coming to my rescue by offering this all-expenses-paid experience (minus the tip) to put things into perspective.

I sit up. Keeping my voice quiet, I say, “Thanks again, Aud. This was just what I needed.”

Audrina remains still, and for a second I wonder if she’s fallen asleep. After a moment, she says, “Same. And you’re welcome.”

“And I love spending time with my two daughters even if we’re in separate rooms and not speaking.”

Audrina and I share a skeptical look. Our mom’s affection for us has never been in question, but the demonstrative statements aren’t her brand.

To counter the vicarious cringe of her sentimentality, I joke, “I’d think you’d be sick of Audrina by now. She’s best in small doses.”

Audrina pouts. “How quickly gratitude turns to ridicule in this family.”

I chuckle.

“Girls,” Mom says sternly, proving she can still scold us with her eyes closed (and probably hands tied behind her back too).

“If Mom is sick of me, which ishighlyunlikely, the good news is I’ve saved enough money to rent my own place again.”

“That’s great!” I’m happy for my sister (if not also a bit envious) and assume our mother is both relieved and pleased by Audrina’s refound independence.

“Thanks! I’m going to stay another few months to boost my cushion though.”

Mom says nothing, insinuating this isn’t news to her.

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