Ramona doesn’t have an origin story like that. The question ofwhat now?has pounded away at her brain since before Milwaukee, because at first she didn’t have a concrete plan. All she wanted wasout, and then once the pressure faded away, maybe she’d have the space to consider it.
So she journaled and meditated and took long lavender-scented baths, until an idea appeared, almost so laughably obvious that she couldn’t believe it hadn’t come to her right away.
More than anything else, she’s always felt she missed out on school. And while obviously she can’t go back to high school…she could enroll in college.
When fall quarter begins in two weeks, she’ll be a UCLA freshman, and any amount of nerves she has are overshadowed by the thrill of getting to do something completely different. She’s weirdly nostalgic about her education, despite only having experienced online classes and on-set tutors. Even though she’s played arenas all over the world, her worldview still feels limited.Tunnel vision, but for her brain. She craves homework and teachers and tests andstructure, and the chance to worry only about herself for the first time in her life.
If Ramona’s ever going to figure out what happens next, she’s convinced it will happen there.
“You’ll look adorable in blue and gold.” Betty lifts an eyebrow. “Then again, do you look bad in anything?”
“Chartreuse,” Ramona says, her mind still spinning.College. She’s finally going to college. “And that white avant-garde dress I wore to my first Met Gala that no one on my team seemed to realize looked like a toilet until I was memed to death the next day. Speaking of…” Ramona nods toward a questionable bathroom up ahead and breaks from the path.
No outdoor bathroom possesses a flattering mirror—it’s probably inscribed in law by the UN—and yet that doesn’t stop her from examining her slightly warped reflection as she washes her hands. She tries not to focus on every imperfection DeeAnn would spot right away. The dry skin on her forehead, the oily skin along her nose, how short her lashes are without mascara or extensions.
So much for progress. She hates that she notices—she’sexercising, she’s not supposed to look hot—but wasn’t that the goal every single night onstage, no matter how drenched in sweat she was? Before classes start, she’ll book a facial. Get her hair trimmed.
As she’s exiting the bathroom, she spots two girls self-consciously approaching Betty, and for a moment, Ramona’s frozen in place.
She knows that cautious approach. The request for selfies that follow. It’s happened much less than usual over the past few months, mostly because she got spooked when paparazzi snappedher leaving Erewhon and opted for delivery after that. There isn’t an on-off switch; she can’t immediately begin having a private life when the majority of it has been spent in the spotlight.
But are these girls really about to pounce by asking her friend about her instead?
“Excuse me,” one of them says. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but are you Betty Zhu?”
Ramona watches Betty blink back her shock. “Uh,” she says, and then adjusts herBody by Bettycap. “Yes. I am. I don’t always wear merch for my own gym, I swear! This was a gift.”
The girls laugh along with her. “No shame in self-promo.”
Ramona has to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from cackling. Despite her distaste for it, Betty’s been no stranger to the press, from nights out with Ramona to reporters dying to know celebs’ workout routines, though she never gives them what they want. It’s not entirely unusual for her to be recognized.
“This might sound weird,” the girl continues, “but we’re just huge fans of your clients.”
The other girl nods vigorously. They look late teens, maybe early twenties. “We love Ramona Wilder so much. We’ve been thinking about her a lot, and we just—we hope she’s doing okay.”
Betty offers a tight-lipped smile. “I don’t like to talk about my clients, but I can tell you that she’s doing really well. And if she were here right now”—she says this part especially loud while Ramona doubles over laughing—“she’d be so touched that you asked about her.”
They ask for a photo, and Betty obliges before they continue their hike, excitedly passing the phone back and forth. Ramona waits until the coast is clear before she heads back over.
“Holy shit,” Betty says with a shake of her head. “Did thatreally just happen? Am I one of the anointed ones now?” She grips Ramona’s shoulder, eyes wide. “Will I know when the Illuminati reach out, or are they going to do it in code?”
It takes Ramona another few moments to breathe through her laughter. “Now you know what it’s like.”
“Yeah, and you know what, you can keep it.”
“Nah,” Ramona says, and then spreads her arms wide, tilts her face toward the sun. “Out here, we can both be a couple of nobodies.”
2
This isn’t a step backward,Nick’s therapist told him during their most recent session.You’re moving forward. Getting closer to the life you’re meant to have.
As he hauls his last box into Lexi’s guesthouse, already missing the weight of his old key in his pocket, he tries to believe that the life he’s meant to have isn’t the one he just left behind.
Nick Navarro never expected to be divorced at thirty-six and moving in with his sister. He is someone who lives for silver linings, the type of optimist who asserts his beloved Clippers still have a chance at bringing home a title despite the fact that they have never won a single championship and are, tragically, considered one of the worst teams in the NBA. He firmly believes that even the students who don’t turn in their homework can still pull it together before the final buzzer and pass his class. He never writes someone off. Always makes himself available for extra help.
That optimism is why it took him so long to realize his marriage was over, that Kathryn had fallen for someone else—an emotional affair that she confessed to her husband before itbecame physical. And still, he suggested a separation over a clean break at first. Because he thought the space would give them a moment to breathe. Regroup. Repair.
The truth of it is that they probably got married too young. Twenty-three, a year out of college, and in the middle of Nick’s PhD program. Of course they’d grow and change during their twenties, and that would be part of the magic.
