Page 88 of Out of the Blue

Time to start over. Again. I run through all the people I know and come up empty. None of them will have any leads for me. Not one to wallow in my own misfortune—because if I did, I’d never resurface—I force myself back into the bathroom and finish my morning ritual. Might as well look as good as possible for my job hunt.

* * *

Aweek flies by. After some—alright, like fifty—job interviews, I nailed two new positions. It’s now eleven at night, and I throw the grocery store’s apron on top of the washing machine.At least I have some money coming in.

Grabbing my yoga pants, I slide into them and toss on a TLR sweatshirt. I should’ve thrown this away, but I only have a limited amount of clothes. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Cordelia.

I check my phone and listen to Rita’s latest voicemail message. After leaving several about how sorry she was I got fired, her latest ones plead for info about how I’m doing. I haven’t been able to bring myself to actually call her, so I settle for another single line text and a few smiley emojis. At least something is smiling in my life.

As I put my phone away, my sister strolls into the living room. “Mamá’s gone now. Since you’re paying for everything, you should take over her bedroom.”

I reply without much enthusiasm. “Thanks, sis.”

“Don’t want to move out of my room anyway.” She punches me on my shoulder. “So, tell me, how’s the grocery store treating you?”

“Hot. Sweaty.” Boring as all hell. Making the same biscuit every day for hours doesn’t top my excitement list. But it puts money in my pocket. Or, rather, in my landlord’s pocket.

“Thanks so much for doing this. If it weren’t for you, I have no idea what I’d be doing.”

“You’d have figured something else out. I have faith. How was school today?”

Her whole face transforms. “It was great! I learned how to do highlightsandlowlights. I love the coloring process. It’s so scientific, you know?”

I laugh. “I don’t know too much, since my experience with coloring has come from a drugstore.” Not like I’ve had either the time or the money to do anything with my hair since I’ve been back.

She picks up my mane. “I don’t know. If I had hair like yours, I don’t think I’d change a thing. I love your color. So much better than mine.” She points to her own hair, which is about three shades lighter than mine. Not blonde, but not a true brunette. In any event, it’s pink right now.

“Looks like you’re eating the profits, so to speak.”

“You like?” She does a three-sixty, showing off her asymmetric hairstyle from all angles. She plops down onto the couch next to me. “So, how’s your other job going?”

She’s referring to the advertising gig I picked up at a local department store. It’s only part time—hence also working at the grocery store—but at least it’s more interesting. Nothing as exciting as working for a rock band, for sure. But not much is. And this one does pay for important things like electricity.

“It’s good enough.”

“Maybe you’ll get promoted to full time soon. They have to love you.” She drops her head on my shoulder for a few moments.

Her youthful exuberance is adorable, although not based in reality. “We’ll see.”

She twirls her pink hair. “So, I saw a clip onIn the Knowabout TLR.”

My entire body spasms. “Don’t want to hear it.”

Juanita continues as if I hadn’t said anything. “Trent’s recovering really well. They showed him playing his guitar.”

My eyebrows raise. He’s already back to playing?

“He looked good, physically anyway.”

I don’t take the bait. “So, are you keeping up with your schoolwork?”

“Yeah. Great stuff. But, as I was saying,In the Knowreported he’s been recuperating at Braxton Hunte’s house.”

I turn away. I don’t want to hear anything about my ex. He certainly doesn’t care what I’ve been doing. “I don’t want to talk about this, okay?”

She sighs. “Fine. I want to go on record that I think you guys were good together. I liked how you were when you were with him. You laughed a lot, even when all my financial shit piled around your ears. I think you should call him.”

“Your two cents are duly noted.” I throw her advice away with all the junk mail we receive. Call him? Is she on crack?

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