“I miss you too, Kitty.”
I need you here.
I don’t let those words come out, because Kitty’s out West living her earthy-crunchy outdoorsy dreams. She’s always been an adventurous soul, and I love watching her seize it, now that she’s finally free to do so after getting out of her shitstorm of a marriage.
But she’s been my best friend since third grade, so she hears the desperation in my voice anyway. “You doing okay?”
Her service on the trail is extremely limited, so we only catch up when she reaches a rest stop that offers one measly bar of cell data. The last time we chatted was just days after I lost my job and found out Kyle cheated on me.
I scratch my head. “Figuring it out. Long story short, I…um, needed to get out of the city, so I got a contract job for the summer with an oyster farm. I’m currently living on a sailboat, my parents are up my ass about finding a new job, and the oyster farm owner is the biggest douchebag I’ve ever met in my life.”
There’s a beat of silence. “That’s…a change,” she says slowly.
I laugh a little. “Yeah. Not as put together as I’d like to be.”
She doesn’t hesitate this time. “Doesn’t sound like that to me. Sounds like you’re on a coastal retreat for the summer, challenging yourself with a new industry, andlearning how to live on the water, with plans to return to your super-successful-boss-lady life soon.”
“You’re giving me too much credit.”
“You’re not giving yourself enough, per usual,” she shoots back. “And what’s this about the oyster farmer?”
Grayson’s face pops right back into view. “If you come across any bears, ask them if I can hire them for a hit.”
“That dickish?”
“Yep.”
“Is he hot?”
I’m still seeing his scowling face in my head, which makes it unfortunately easy to answer her question. “Aren’t all assholes hot?” When she laughs, I add, “Not my type. Someone else’s, probably.”
Someone who likes rugged-looking men who fill out their clothes well, have golden eyes and tanned skin, and swagger around with easy strength. It wasn’t lost on me that earlier, he’d caught and plopped me on my feet like I weighed nothing.
It truly was a shame all the ovary-stimulating men chose to open their mouths and share their thoughts.
“You’ll put—” her voice disappears again— “his place. Just like you did…Jack when he tried…beat you as class president.”
Her one bar of service seems to be disappearing, as it usually does after a minute or two.
“How much longer will you be out there?” I ask her.
“What?” Her voice is garbled.
I repeat myself, and it must go through, because she says, “Three weeks.”
Only three-quarters of a month, then, until I can get her on a video call. I’ll be counting down the days.
“Call me at your next stop?”
“Of…” there’s a long stretch of static, “…or ten days.”
Maybe I’ll have murdered Grayson by then, and I’ll be asking for tips on how to hide the body. The thought makes me smile as I say, “Love you.”
Her service holds on long enough for her “love you” to come through, and then the call drops.
I pull my phone from my ear to see three new texts. When I read theBoston Bitchesgroup name, it’s like a sack of rocks lands in my stomach. All the Kitty-induced happiness vanishes, and just like that, my day returns to its downward trajectory.
Jane: Margs tn? New taco place in Southie.
