Sometimes I literally hate myself for how happy I am that Jax is my friend.
Mom’s still at her computer when I get home, and she actually pauses what she’s doing and glances up at me. “Hi, Abby. How’re you doing?”
“Fine,” I say.
“I’m really sorry to hear about Jordi,” she says.
“Are you?” I walk into my room and flop on my bed. Unfortunately, Mom’s followed me in.
“Of course I am,” she says. “I’m not sure why you always assume I don’t …”
“… don’t dislike everything about me? Just paying attention, Mom, that’s all.”
She sits down next to me on the bed. “That’s an unfair thing to say.”
“Seriously? You hoped I was going out with Jax. You wanted me to lose weight so I’d be pretty. Like if only I was a thin straight girl, you could love me. But I’m neither, so.” I shove my face into my pillow so that hopefully she can’t tell I’m crying. I really had no idea just how much I could cry. It’s sort of gross. Can my head lose too much moisture? And if it does, will that hurt my brain? Considering how stupid that sounds, I worry this process has already begun.
“Of course I love you,” Mom says.
“Well, then like me.”
“Oh, Abby.” She somehow gets me to turn my face to look at her. “I just want your life to be easy.”
“Can’t I just be me? I feel like that’s the easiest option.”
She watches me for a few moments. “I was seventeen when I went through my first breakup, too.”
“You had a boyfriend in high school?” I ask.
“Two. One my junior year—that was the breakup—and one senior year. That one took me to prom.”
I remember seeing Mom’s prom picture. When I was little, I thought she looked exactly like Cinderella, and so I did think for a while the guy might have been a prince. It now seems unlikely this was the case.
“What happened?” I ask.
“He kissed my best friend at a bonfire,” she says.
“No.” I stare at her. “That’s horrible. Jordi didn’t do anything that horrible.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Mom says. “She’s always so polite.”
I guess my heart is still a little behind on recent news because I feel a warmth in me that Mom thought something nice about Jordi.
“I’m sorry about your boyfriend,” I say, which makes Mom laugh.
“Well, I’m over it now! That took a while, though.”
“Did you forgive your friend?” I ask.
“Eventually. Sort of.” Mom strokes my hair. “What if you tried a nice strawberry blonde? That would look so cute on you.”
“I like it pink,” I say. “Pink’s my favorite color. Why can’t my hair be my favorite color? That’s the thing you always do! You try to change everything about me. I know you wish I was more like Rachel. I’m just not. I’m not going to be.”
“Honey, no.” She sighs. “I don’t know why things always come out like that.”
“Well, because you say them.” I turn over so I’m facing the wall instead. My bulletin board looks ransacked because I pulled off every photo of or by Jordi. It’s strange how in just a couple months, one person can become so much of your world.
Which means when your world’s been expanded, when that person’s gone, it feels like mass extinction.
“I’m better with food,” Mom says.
“Than with people?” I turn back to her, and I feel bad that I laugh when she nods. “Mom, that’s not a thing.”
“Well, with you then. I always seem to say the wrong thing. When I’m writing for this book or for my site, my meaning always seems to come across correctly. With us …”
I think about how easy it is to be myself as I’m posting style photos of other people. Easier than this, for sure.
“Mom?” I look down at my hands. “I really thought you were going to ask me to run your social media this summer.”
“Oh, Abby … honey, that’s a big job. I was aiming to get this book deal, and we’ve had so many near-offers on a Food Network show.”
“I guess I get it,” I say. “At least why you needed it to be … not a teenager. But—”
“I never meant to hurt your feelings. I thought—we’re just so different, honey. When I was your age, I thought if I wasn’t like my friends the world would end.”
“The world did end.” I look over to my bulletin board. “But not because of that. And my friends and I are all different. I know you see it as the skinny straight ones and then me, but that’s not how they see me, you know.”
Mom nods, though I don’t think she believes me. “I promise things get easier after a breakup. You just need some time.”
I nod, too, though I don’t believe her either.
CHAPTER 24
I’m early again to work on Wednesday, but Jordi was earlier, because she’s already chatting with Paige when I walk in. I try not to make eye contact but her gaze sweeps over me. I can’t find my way out of it.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi. Good morning.” I walk to the back to get coffee and hope that Maggie’s already here so that I have a reason to stay back here. Since she’s not, I just make this the most thoughtful cup of coffee I’ve ever poured or mixed.
I guess this is why people say you shouldn’t date in the workplace. It just sounded like a thing that affected business executives, not Jordi or me.
“Abby.” She walks into the backroom. “Please. Can we talk?”
“I seriously have no idea what you want to talk about,” I say. “I just want to work. Okay?”
Maggie walks into the room. “Hi, girls. Jordi, are you feeling better?”
She shrugs while staring at the floor. Jordi looks so small and frail, and it’s hard not to want to do something about that. Something I guess I hadn’t foreseen about falling in love with someone is how much your heart can ache to take
