Page 68 of Love Bank
“Hey, Mom, I gotta go. My friends are texting me and just like you they won’t stop until I let them know I’m okay.”
“I approve of that too, in case you wondered. I’m glad you have some good friends. Call me tomorrow. Chin up, daughter of mine. You’re a fierce warrior woman with superior intellect. This situation has nothing on you, you hear me?”
“Preach it, Mom,” I answered halfheartedly, for once in my life happy to listen to her motivational feminism talk.
After we hung up, the texts kept coming in a flurry.
Amelia:Super worried over here…
Hazel:We can all be there in a matter of minutes to take that bitch down. Just say the word.
Lenora:Totally! But wait, who is this girl? And why are we fighting her?
Amelia:Does it matter? Bitch stirs up trouble for a Hell Raiser, we activate.
Lenora:You scare me sometimes…
I cracked a smile, surprised my face still knew how to do it.
Lucille:Ladies! Thank you. Really. But I just need some time to think.
Amelia:Time to think? What happened??
Hazel:Yeah, what the hell did she do?
Hazel:Lucille?
I ignored them, too raw to get into it just then. I needed to process and I did my best thinking alone. I did my best everything alone. I threw back the covers and stood, the room swaying a bit. I needed some food in my stomach first. Then would come the thinking. On the way to the kitchen, my phone buzzed again.
Lenora:We’re outside. Let us in and we’ll face whatever this is together.
My hand started to shake and then the tears blurred my vision so badly I couldn’t text back. My friends had come. I had people. I wasn’t alone.
I threw open the door, not caring I was still in frayed shorts and Bain’s old T-shirt, my face tear-stained. My three friends stood huddled on my doorstep, rushing forward at once to envelop me in a group hug with murmurs of support.
They finally pulled back and someone shut the door.
“I brought tequila and In-n-Out,” Amelia stated.
I snorted.
I wasn’t doing great, but I’d be okay.
* * *
Monday arrived all too soon and with a killer headache to match my heartache. I grabbed my head and rolled my tongue around, hoping to find some spit somewhere in my mouth so I could swallow.
“I am never having tequila again,” I announced to my room and then promptly groaned at the icepick digging into my skull from speaking.
I got ready at a sloth’s pace, finally pulling into the parking lot of the clinic a good thirty minutes late. I barely recognized the woman reflected in the windows, stepping out of her convertible in jeans, Vans, and a cotton tank top. Hangovers, casual Mondays, and heartache over a handsome man were hardly the hallmarks of Lucille Eureka 1.0. Despite the pain, I was satisfied to see her dead and gone.
Lucille 2.0 was badass despite the onslaught of emotions battering her on all sides. This Lucille wasn’t afraid to be hurt or to put herself out there. This Lucille had the Hell Raisers to back her up and knock a knocked-up bitch down if she gave the signal.
A seagull swooped right over my head with a loud chirp. I yelped and ducked out of the way, my car keys flying out of my hand and skidding to a stop on the sidewalk outside the clinic door.
Well, shit on a gold nugget. Lucille 2.0 was still afraid of seagulls.
“Good morning, Lucille!” Keva beamed at me from her desk, ignoring the fact I was late yet again.
