Page 131 of Fun Together
She sits up and fixes her hair, bringing the Alexis I know back into focus. It’s almost eerie how quickly she can go from the woman I’ve been talking to tonight to the woman I’ve been borderline fearful of for the last five years.
“So why do you do it?” I ask.
“Because I thought I had to. But none of it matters. They’re all a bunch of fucking leeches.”
I don’t disagree. “Is your advice that I need to fake it, too?”
“Hell no. I’m telling you to get out while you still can.”
I laugh. “I applied to another job in the company,” I confess.
“I know you did. And I’m sorry they didn’t offer it to you.”
“You are? Why?”
“Because I’ve been selfishly hoping that you’d never stop working for me. Which is exactly why you should stop working for me.”
“That job wasn’t right for me, anyway. I knew it but had a hard time admitting it.”
She stands up. “How about this? On Monday, we’ll talk. About career stuff.” She sways and grabs the back of her stool to balance. “I’m calling an Uber.” She slaps a hundred dollar bill on the bar, and with a wave she’s gone before I even register that our conversation ended.
I sit at the bar for a few minutes, reeling over tonight’s events and revelations. Turns out Alexis is a real person who makes mistakes, too. She’s still kind of aloof and odd, but she seems eager to help me, in her own way.
Maybe the fates intervened tonight after all.
44
Faye
The next morning,I’m up bright and early, painting my living room.
I decided on a sage-green color. Or at least it looked sage green in the store. I run the roller over the wall and it’s coming across a little more . . . neon than I wanted.
Too late to turn back now.
This is my latest attempt at busying myself so I don’t have to think about anything else, only home projects. If I come up with enough tasks to complete, I won’t have to face any of my problems. Very healthy.
A knock at the door interrupts me. I look through the peephole and rip the door open so fast I almost remove the years of paint that have been painted over the hinges.
Rett is here, and I know things will be okay.
Her eyes land on the scene behind me. Sheets and blankets acting as drop cloths tossed over everything. The chair I’ve been using as a ladder, laying sideways on the ground. Takeout containers littering the floor.
Then she looks at me, and her eyes go wide at the sight of what might be the world’s worst case of breakup bangs to ever be seen.
“Oh no,” she says, pulling me into the second hug she’s ever given me. The first was right after I gave the engagement ring back to Andrew. Two Rett hugs in a single year. I must really look awful.
“Are they that bad?” I ask, reaching up to press them down on my forehead.
The concern on her face turns to determination as she guides me toward the bathroom. “Come on.”
I sit on top of the toilet while she attempts to fix the mess I’ve made of my hair. I’m so grateful for Rett in this moment—for her steadfast friendship and unwavering support. I feel tears start to well up in my eyes, thinking of what it’s going to take to fix the mess I’ve made of my whole life.
“Don’t cry. They’re really not that bad.” She steps back to view her progress. “You have the perfect facial structure to pull off a short bang.”
I sniffle. “I just don’t know what I would do without you.”
She starts snipping again. “Good thing you won’t ever have to find that out. Now, what do you think?” She places her arms on my shoulders and leads me to stand in front of the mirror. They’re a little short for my liking, but they definitely look better. Plus, it’s just hair. It will grow. “Thank you so much,” I say, tears starting up again.
