Page 70 of Work Me

“That I do,” I say. “I love you, Elizabeth. So, what did you get me?”

Laughing, she goes under the bed she shared with Sheridan, identically matching my hiding spot. We do think alike in some ways. “Here.”

I shred the wrapping, desperate to find out what she got. Unlike me, Liz always hits the nail on the head with her gifts. Pulling the lid off, I peel away the layers of golden tissue, to find… “Is this a car key?”

The three women look at each other conspiratorially. Liz takes me by the hand. “Get your shoes on.”

“Why?”

“Just do it!” Sheridan yells with giddiness.

With my shoes barely on, I’m halfway dragged through the hotel. People stare at the four of us, which given our just-fell-out-of-bed, messy hair, pajamas - and in my case, make-up under the eyes - is no surprise.

Sheridan’s hands cover my eyes when we step into the parking lot.

“What are you doing?” I ask her laughing.

Hands pull me towards something, and then I’m released. It takes a moment for my eyes to focus out in the bright Florida sun.

“Surprise!” the three women yell, all pointing at a black, brand new Mustang GT with a large red bow on the roof of the car.

Confusion mixed with a little what-the-fuck fills me. “Uh…”

“It’s your new car, Mom!” Reese jumps up and down clapping.

“Happy birthday, sis.” Liz hugs me, but I barely respond.

“Get in!” Sheridan pushes me in and begins snapping pictures with her phone. “Put your hands on the wheel. Cat, pretend you’re driving. Why aren’t you driving?”

“Are you okay, Mom?”

“Um, yeah. This is just so… big. Liz, I can’t accept this,” I say, looking at my sister.

Serious now, she says, “Yes you can.”

“No. I can’t. I gave you a fucking whip.”

“And I love it,” Liz tells me, rubbing my arm, smiling reassuringly.

I frown at her lie. “I don’t need a new car.”

“Mom, your car is falling apart. Every time you get in it you are gambling on it starting.”

“That’s not true!” I cry out indignantly.

“You’ve loved your car well, Cat. It’s okay to let it go,” Liz says.

“How much did this cost you?” I ask her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Liz replies, looking away.

“It does matter!” I try to do some calculations in my head, but really I have no idea what a new car would cost because any price would have been outside my budget. As I think that, I realize why Liz did it. She felt sorry for me and my old car. She thinks I need help getting a new car.

Now I have two options.

A)Act like a total ingrate, throw a tantrum, have her return the car, and ruin her birthday.

B)Smile, say thank you, and accept it graciously. Liz makes a lot of money. Not to mention the outrageous inheritance from my parents she tried to share, but I couldn’t accept. She can certainly afford to buy a car, and if she felt it in her heart to gift me one, I should be grateful.

---