The affirmation should make me feel better.
But all it does is weave a knot in my stomach.
And when I get a text message from Jane an hour later, canceling our lunch date because of a family event she forgot about, that knot tightens.
20
ELIZA
Suzanneand my mother have a lot in common.
Both are career professionals. Both like to work weekends. And both like to wake before the sun rises and send messages that ruin my day.
Suzanne: First batch were all rejected. We need to adjust your strategy. Be advised, I’m reviewing your resume and suggesting changes. Return the revised document to me by EOD.
It doesn’t matter that rejections are standard and competition is fierce. When I see the message through bleary eyes, the news stings, casting a dark cloud over my morning that’s barely even started.
And that’s only the beginning.
Because my eyes rove over the time to see that it’s seven-thirty-five.
I explode out of bed, stumbling to my makeshift sink—a big plastic bowl—to splash water on my face and brush my teeth. Missing my alarm wouldn’t normally be a big deal,but Amanda offered to do a sorting tutorial if I leave the dock with her at eight, and Ineedthis content. I teased it on Friday, dammit.
Throwing my hair into a bun, I burst back into the main cabin, searching for something to wear—only to realize my clean clothes are still in my car from last night’s laundromat run.
Not caring that I look like a maniac, I run barefoot down the dock, wincing as I gingerly shuffle across the parking lot’s gravel to the car. Then I’m lugging the laundry basket back with me, brainstorming the outfit I should have laid out last night. This morning is especiallychilly, so definitely a sweatshirt, and my old?—
My foot catches on a cleat as I step back on the boat, and I stumble. On instinct, my hands release the basket, flailing for the railing to stop myself from going in. But the basket doesn’t catch.
On anything.
In slow motion, I watch the basket drop between the side of the boat and dock. It splashes unceremoniously into the water, landing perfectly upright.
For a second, I think I’m the luckiest woman on the planet. That fate has decided to cut me some slack.
Then I watch, helpless, as the basket tips and all my clean clothes spill into the water.
Fuck me.
Lunging across the deck, I scoop up the giant fishing net stuffed in a rod holder and shove it into the water. Three sweeps retrieve every piece of clothing I can see before I flip the net around and use the rod to scoop up the useless basket by one of its holes.
A sopping wet pile of clothing stares back at me from the teak deck. Water from the basket drips onto my feet,reminding me that I not only have a full load to re-wash, but a basket I need to hose down.
It’s a later problem. Just like Suzanne’s edits, which I’ll have to magically work in between a laundromat visit and the grocery run I need to do if I want dinner.
A thick ball lodges in my throat as I rush back into the cabin, searching for any clean items to wear. Workout gear and a new Gold’s sweatshirt are the only options, so I yank them on, telling myself a tank top and leggings aren’t as sloppy as I think. Then, for the second time this morning, I’m running down the dock like a madwoman. A rush of air follows me into the car, and my phone buzzes.
It’s from Sara, one of Kyle’s fringe friends I’ve only ever met once.
Weird.
Curiosity riding me hard, I spare a second to open the message.
The seat beneath my thighs completely falls away.
I’m staring at a photo of Jane and Kyle.
Not in a group. Not standing by each other. But full-on making out in the middle of the fucking day at some kind of backyard party.
