I bet they don’t require five years’ experience for an entry-level position.
I shook my head at my own thoughts. I had zero acrobatic talent and clowns freaked me the fuck out.
“I’m okay, Mom,” I repeated for the millionth time in that short phone call.
“I know you think that you're okay, but our subconscious stresses can manifest in lots of ways. Are you sleeping okay?”
No, because none of my stress is subconscious.
“Yup,” I lied.
“Good. I worry about you.”
The stream of loving annoyance I had toward my mom for her hovering quickly turned into a river of guilt. It wasn’t her fault that I had an unlimited pass to the struggle bus. Taking it out on her was unfair.
“There’s no reason to worry. Promise. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
She mostly shared about restaurants she’d visited with the other OGs. I could imagine there were a lot of lawyer visits interspersed, but she didn’t talk about those. Nor did she mention any social events or volunteer boards. I also didn’t ask. I was willing to bet that if she’d received any invites, she hadn’t accepted them.
It wasn’t just her marriage that’d been flipped. Her entire life had to be so drastically different than just a couple of months before.
We talked for a little longer while I let her fuss over me before hanging up.
I scanned the notes that were spread across my coffee table. I found my spot and tried to piece together some semblance of acohesive idea. Just as an inkling of something began to form, my vibrating phone rattled on the table, and I lost it again.
I snatched it up to silence it completely—emergencies be damned. Unsurprisingly, it was more texts from my boss.
TC: You can’t ignore me.
TC: I’ll leave and come see you.
I rolled my eyes, wondering what his deal was.
As far as I knew, the first three days of readthrough for Tripp’s upcoming movie had gone fine. Disappointingly, I’d only been able to attend the first day, but those few hours had been incredible. Especially since I hadn’t been strictly an observer, relegated to the perimeter or lobby with the other assistants.
Tripp had parked my ass in a chair behind him and often leaned back to ask my opinion.
I loved movies. Maybe not to the same level as Maddie, but they’d been a big part of my childhood, too. Getting that glimpse behind the magical curtain had been far more exciting than I’d anticipated.
Unfortunately, it was the one glimpse I got. My class schedule and the other two days of readthrough had overlapped. Tripp and I had texted frequently, though, and from all accounts, everything was good.
No. It was better than good. There was a spark in him that grew while he worked. Like he knew he was living his purpose.
For whatever reason, that happiness disappeared when it came to attending the director’s birthday dinner with the rest of the cast. I had no clue why. If it weren’t for the immense amountof work I had stressing me out, I would’ve happily taken him up on his invition to an open bar and free food at an upscale restaurant.
It was better than the soggy leftover salad and borderline stale tortilla chips I’d hurriedly shoveled in my face while standing in my kitchen.
Rereading his threat to leave, I quickly typed out a message.
Me: Don’t you dare.
TC: Then come here.
Me: I can’t.
TC: There’s tofu. Only kinda looks like a sponge.
Me: Tempting, but I can’t. I will see you Saturday.
