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Chapter Twenty-Two
Maybe it was the trip down memory lane after I returned home or maybe it was the nightmares that kept me stirring all night. Either way, I woke up in a mood less cheerful than the night before, and it seemed like I’d manifested a bad, bad day—like the kind they write children’s stories about.
It wasn’t just the headache I woke up with that had me in the dumps. Additionally, Pickles decided to barf all over the carpet in the living room, prompting my mother to:
1. Flip out about the state of the expensive rug
2. Yell at my dad for loaning out the rug scrubber to a friend and
3. Insist that Pickles must be dying and need to go to the vet
Apparently, my mom also hadn’t had the greatest night of sleep. Dad wisely beelined for the door, claiming urgent work awaited. I tried to help Mom scrub the carpet with the brush and bucket until she yelled at me to get my butt on the couch so my ankle didn’t get worse. I didn’t think it was the time to remind her the doctor said everything was looking good, so I just attempted to scurry out of her way.
I clinked to the kitchen to make some coffee, the headache intensifying and my body feeling sluggish. And then my phone rang. I looked down to see Grace’s name pop up, so I answered it.
“Hey,” I said, feigning a chipper attitude I didn’t feel. The attempt sounded fake, even to me.
“Tillie, it’s me,” she said, like she always did when she called. I smiled. “I have bad news.”
My heart instantly sank.
“Lilly, that new girl, is killing it here. Like killing it, at least according to Tino. And I overheard Tino saying he was going to offer her your job. Like permanently.”
My heart sank completely into the ground.
“What? But why? How?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you like this, but I wanted you to know.”
I exhaled, trying to fight tears. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Listen, chin up, Tillie. It’s horrible what he’s doing. But you’re too good for this place anyway. Maybe this will be the push you need to get serious about the coffee shop.”
I nodded, trying to see it that way. Inside, though, panic rooted itself in my bones. I was supposed to be going back in less than a month. And Tino’s wasn’t my forever dream, but it was reliable money, something I could use. Now what?
I thanked Grace, assured her I was fine even though I wasn’t sure if I really was, and clicked the phone off.
“What’s wrong?” my mom asked, coming to the kitchen for coffee, too, after cleaning Pickles’ mess.
I swiped at the strand of hair hanging down from my ponytail. “Grace called. Tino’s replaced me. For good.”
