“I…I’ll be…fine,” I cry. “I’m just so…ugly.” The wail thataccompanies that last part resembles that of a dying animal, and I’m sure Lanie is beyond concerned about my mental state.
“You’re not, babe. You need us.” The tenderness she uses is so unlike her.
She’s my bossy, no-nonsense friend, who’s more likely to slap the sense back into me than to allow the moping.
“As much as I don’t want to be the overbearing friend on your day, this isn’t a situation that I’m going to back down from. I’m coming to you.”
“No, I—”
It’s no use. The line is dead, and I know without a doubt that Lanie and Nina will be here at some point regardless of any protest on my part.
Forty wasn’t supposed to look like this. I’d had every intention of marching out of my thirties with my head held high, ass tight and no lines to be found from the corners of my eyes to my hairline, seventeen years into a blissful marriage.
Exactly none of those things are my reality.
I have tracks deeper than an off-road path lining my forehead and a scar that runs from my temple to the corner of my right eye, a permanent reminder of all I’ve lost.
Lanie is right. I’m wasting away in this room.
If Garrett were here, he’d tell me to pull myself together, get dressed, and plan on a headache in the morning. But he’s not here, so I’ll eat my ice cream and feel sorry for myself until the birthday hijackers I call friends arrive.
At five o’clockon the dot, I hear the key turning in the lock in the door. I gave spares to both Lanie and Nina in case of emergencies. Apparently, my breakdown earlier constitutes an emergency.
Seated in a dark corner of the living room, with a clear view of the front door, I watch Lanie pop her head inside. The sun has long set, and darkness blankets the room, shielding me from her view.
“Alyssa?” she calls out, as though she cares about my privacy. “We’re coming in.”
Lanie flips a switch, and the overhead lights beam down around us. Lanie’s brown eyes are wide, one black-and-white-Converse-covered foot still in the door as if she fears what she’ll find. I’d laugh if I wasn’t having too much fun watching these two tiptoe around like some ghost is about to pop out at them.
Nina’s head peeks around Lanie’s body, her blond hair hanging loosely over one shoulder, and our eyes lock. My lips tip up in amusement.
“Hi, love,” Nina says, pushing Lanie through the door when she sees me sitting in my comfy chair.
I raise my hand and wave, not wanting to speak for fear I’ll start laughing and pee myself, which has been a danger ever since giving birth. Yet another less-than-sexy problem I deal with on the regular.
“I’m glad to see you’re not in your bed,” she says, sitting down on the arm of my chair and pulling me into a hug.
Nina is a high school counselor and very adept at handling grief, which is a real pain in the ass for someone who’s trying to avoid talking about her feelings. “How you doing?” she asks, backing up and looking me over, her gaze lingering a little too long.
If they see that I’ve managed to pull myself together, they’ll insist on birthday shenanigans, and I’m not quite fond of that idea.
I showered, hoping to wash away the remnants of my earlier wallowing, but it was no use. My pale complexion can’t hide the stubborn splotches of distress, even with a Sephora’s worth of makeup plastered over my face.
“I’m struggling.”
A complete exaggeration.
My head lowers, shaking back and forth, playing up the misery card. Based on how her eyes are narrowed in on mine, she knows better. I’ve managed to fake it till I make it before, but tonight, I’m failing.
“We know better, Ally,” Lanie cuts in, walking toward her typical spot on the outdated ottoman, complete with a gaudy floral print. It’s a hand-me-down from my mother, which is about the only thing that woman has ever given up to me. “You’re trying to avoid a celebration for the big four-oh, and we are not here for it. You and I both know you’ll regret it eventually.”
Lanie gets comfortable, stretching her long, lean legs out on the couch as Nina takes a seat on the floor at my feet.
“She’s right, Alyssa. This happened on your thirtieth and you still to this day whine about not throwing a party.”
“We promised we’d never let you do that again. So pull up your big girl panties and embrace your midlife hotness,” Lanie says, earning a stern glare from Nina.
Nina springs back up, putting her arm around my shoulder. She pulls me into her embrace again. “Don’t listen to her. We all know she’s about as comforting as sitting on a cactus.”
