Page 10 of The Lies I've Told
Heading for the kitchen,I kicked off my shoes, not caring where they landed, as I went straight for the wine fridge.
“Hello, pinot grigio. Where have you been all my life?” I said fondly, pulling out a perfectly chilled bottle. Not even bothering with a glass—because who was I kidding? I was going to drink the whole thing—I uncorked it and headed for the one place I thought would bring me comfort.
My closet.
Half a bottle later, my ass was planted on the floor of my giant walk-in, nestled between a pair of sparkly pink heels and a few sample pieces from the fall line I’d taken home last week. Looking down at them as I took another sip from the wine bottle, I realized that this right here, was my whole life.
This closet. This fucking job. These fucking clothes.
And now, it was gone.
Gone.
“How sad am I?” I said to no one.
But then someone actually answered back. Or at least, that was how I interpreted it when my phone began ringing a few seconds later. Picking it up from the spot where I’d tossed it on the floor, I let out a frustrated sigh.
“Great,” I said, seeing my sister’s name in big, bold letters staring back at me.
Do I answer or not?
“Hello?” I answered before I had a chance to change my mind.
After all, none of this was her fault. There was no reason to avoid her.
Now, if there were a way to avoid myself?
That I could get on board with, at least for the time being.
“Hey!” she replied, her voice instantly warming my insides.
Molly was older by a few years. Wiser by probably a decade… maybe two.
It didn’t matter how far apart we were or how long we went without speaking, she always seemed to cheer me up with just the mere sound of her voice.
“How’s it going?” I asked. “Still preggo?”
She laughed at my joke, but I could hear some hesitation in her tone.
“Wait, you are still pregnant, right? You didn’t have my niece and not tell me, did you?”
“No,” she said.
“There’s abutin there. I can hear it all the way down here, Molly.”
“I’m in labor!” she squealed.
“Oh my gosh!” I screamed, jumping up from my pathetic spot on the floor, as if I could do something all the way in Florida when my sister was going into labor up in North Carolina. “Then, why are you on the phone with me?” I asked. “Shouldn’t you be pushing? Or doing heavy breathing or something?”
She laughed.
She freaking laughed.
She was having a baby, casually chuckling through labor, while I was having a mild panic attack about it in the middle of my walk-in closet.
Maybe I needed to lay off the wine for a while.
Setting it aside, I stepped out of the closet and settled down on my bed, ignoring the way the room slightly spun.
