Page 56 of One Last Thing Before You Go

“Where? Tell me if you can think of anything, because we’re stumped,” she says, looking defeated.

“What about our place?” Bonnie asks.

Adriana grimaces. “No offense, girl. But your house, though bigger, is busier than mine. Don’t your girls always have friends over from their soccer team or any one of their other extracurriculars and stuff?” I open my mouth to volunteer my loft but—“And before you offer up your place, do you really think you could comfortably fit eight women in your tiny living area?”

I puff, wanting so very badly to find a solution. “What about a restaurant? The bar?”

“No, no.” She shakes her head in frustration. “The restaurant is too family-friendly and we don’t particularly like to filter ourselves. And the bar is too seedy. Like, I don’t think it would be all that great to talk about the hot guys we read about with the gross ones from town or even passersby hitting on us, the smell of stale beer drenching our clothes. No. No, thank you.”

“What if you admit a new member? Someone who’d be down to give you guys the space to participate?”

“Lottie, sweetie. We tried. A lot of people don’t think Touching My Shelf is cool anymore.” Adri frowns.

“It did originate during the Fabio days,” Bonnie says.

“Who?” Jenn looks around at us like we’re speaking Klingon.

“Oh, honey,” Bonnie whispers, patting the back of her hand.

But I ignore them, looking back at my sister. “I just think⁠—”

“Can we stop talking about this, please?” Adri says, putting her foot down, final.

We sit on this news for a beat, quiet as I’m sure we all process the information.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Truly. I feel like our town is just…” I sigh. Shit, is what I want to say. But there’s something keeping me from saying it, holding me back. Because while I realize I may not like it here, so many people still do. And based on my brother’s reaction from earlier, I should probably start keeping some of those opinions to myself.

Plus, Jenn already stated the fact. No need to bum everyone out by expanding on it, right?

“Yeah, it’s definitely lacking a few necessities. We should at least have a cool hangout, for one. It’s kind of ridiculous that we had to drive over forty minutes to get here just so we could have a night out at a decent place.”

Adriana takes a sip of her drink and shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“I know what you mean,” Bonnie sighs. “Adriana’s right. I love my girls and I’m so happy they’re happy with their friends and their goddamn soccer team. But I just want to take some time to myself. Have a place where I can relax.” She downs her drink. “God, I’m a terrible mother.”

“No,” I tell her. “You’re a human with perfectly normal needs.”

Bonnie nods, but looks away guiltily.

Always with the perfect timing, Jenn swoops in to steer the conversation elsewhere: “I think we should get back to a more cheerful topic. To the reason why we’re all here tonight. I’d like to raise a toast to the uterus we hate the most!”

“This is more cheerful?” my sister mutters, rolling her eyes. She hasn’t kept her opinion on my hysterectomy a secret.

Jenn ignores her comment and raises a shot glass in the air, laughing. Bonnie and I follow suit, but Adriana is slow to join.

My favorite redhead reaches out to clasp my hands in hers. “I know you’ve postponed the surgery while we finish this project, but I want to congratulate you for taking charge of your body, for being brave. I’m so happy you’ll finally find some relief.”

My eyes water at Jenn, my little Gen Z firecracker. I’m going to miss her so much when I’m gone. When we’re both gone.

“Thanks, Jenn. Seriously. And though I thought this whole thing was weird as hell, at first, I’m so glad you planned this for me.” A bit teary-eyed, I raise my glass a little higher in the air. “Thanks for the memories, uterus of mine. I can’t wait to get rid of you.”

And with that, we all take a sip of our drinks. Except for Jenn, of course, who knocks back another shot.

I chuckle at her puckered face after she downs her lemon drop, shaking her shoulders.

She’s so young.

“How are you even drinking, by the way? You’re nineteen.”