I jump back, catching my reflection in the mirror. “What the fu—?”
“Blonde looks lovely on you.” She smiles back at the horror that is her work.
“I said lowlights. LOWLIGHTS. My whole head is blonde.”
“Lowlights? Dear, you said highlights.” My once dark hair with a fruitful shade of chestnut is…blonde. I’m going to cry. I’m going to cry…
“And I said a trim. My hair…it’s…” Seven inches shorter!
“Well, the bleach took a toll on your hair. Needed to clean it up. You look lovely. Like your mother when she was younger. Now you’ll find a nice boy. Your momma told us all about that bad—”
“Thank you!” I shove out of her chair, throw tip money at her since my mom so kindly paid upfront for this disaster, and run out of the salon. I don’t normally act so crazy, but I’d probably kick a puppy right now if one passed. Why does the universe hate me? My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I check the screen: Woman’s Wellness Clinic.
“Oh great.” The way my life is going, this place is calling to tell me they mixed up my results and I really do have a rare form of crabs and I’m going to die. I shove my sunglasses over my eyes to block out the angry sun and answer the call. “Hello?”
“Good morning. Is Katie Swanson available?”
“Nope. Wrong number.”
“Well, this is the secondary number we have on file for billing. Mr. Kipatrick has a past due account.”
He’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life. I stop and pull my phone away to recheck the caller. “Who are you again?”
“Woman’s Wellness Clinic.”
Don’t ask. Hang up and don’t ask.
“And what exactly is the past due bill for?”
“Um…” Even the lady on the other line gives me the opportunity to hang up when she hesitates to respond right away. “A dilation and curettage.”
“Yeah, English please.”
She clears her throat. “Surgical abortion.”
It takes my brain a minute to catch up. Like the wick of a firework igniting and shooting down until—kaboom! “That piece of shit!” My eyes clench shut so tight, my eyeballs would suffocate if it were possible. He had the nerve to put me as a contact at an abortion clinic! “Listen, lady. I’m not sure why my cheating ex would put me down as a reference, but he’s my ex, so you’re going to have to find another way to get your payment, because it’s not going to be from me.”
Right as I’m about to hit “end,” she pipes up. “You may want to know…” probably not, “we had to send him—you—to collections for the last time he was in here and never paid. The credit card listed was you as the main holder.”
“He’s…he’s been there more than once?”
“Three times, actually.”
A shriek, which no doubt woke aliens on Mars, explodes from my lungs, tearing at my esophagus. Add getting sued for hearing loss onto my list of unknown debt as I blow the poor girl’s eardrums out. I scream until I feel like I’m going to collapse and don’t stop until my poor mother shows up out of nowhere, most likely called by her mortified stylist, drives me home, then makes me a peanut butter and Doritos sandwich—which I eat and decide I would look just fine in orange.
Hours pass before I feel the couch dip next to me. “Jesus Christ, you are having a breakdown.”
“Huh?” I slowly turn to see Trudy, my ride-or-die and best friend since high school.
“Your mom called me. Told me you were having some kind of straight jacket episode. I didn’t really believe her since you’re a badass, but the hair...shit. She should have called me sooner.” I’m so damn happy to see her, I don’t know whether to cry or cry. “Hey, hey…” she brushes a loose strand of my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. “It doesn’t look that bad. I mean, someone should have stopped you, but it’ll grow back. The color, though…”
“Bad time for sarcasm,” I whisper, fighting back my emotions.
“It’s never a good time for sarcasm. That’s why it’s called sarcasm. What happened? I thought you were moving past this?”
How do I move past something that’s like a leech sucking away at my sanity?
“I did too. I’ve killed him so many times in my head, but he keeps resurrecting and torturing me in the most demented ways.”
“Wait—like, you’ve seen him? I swear, if that motherfucker—”
“No, I haven’t, but he called me. Had the nerve to ask for my engagement ring back after admitting he paid for it with my credit card.” Her gasp is impressive, but it doesn’t stand a chance against her growl when I tell her about the clinic call.
“Tell me that’s fake. Tell me you didn’t really murder him so I can!”
“I’ve literally been funding his secret life since the beginning. Now that I think about it, I even bought his drinks the day we met. I’m such a fool.”
Trudy grasps my arms and shakes me. “You are no fool. He’s a loser. A soon to be dead one. This is not about you. You’re amazing and beautiful. Smart and funny. Any guy would drop dead to have you. Do not let James’s bad decisions ruin who you really are.”
“How am I supposed to do that? All I see is the past six years and all the mistakes I’ve made. No matter what angle I look at it from, I come back to the same conclusion: he has ruined me.”
Trudy jumps off the couch, startling me. She begins to do some sort of Kung Fu dance, then freezes and stares at me.
“Um, what just happened there?”
“That was to snap you out of whatever that crazy thought was. He has not ruined you, for one. Two, I’m done watching you take the blame for something that isn’t
