Page 59 of Make Me Laugh

The Sullivan’s left Florida a couple years ago and moved to Charlotte where Frankie’s two older brothers live, running their own private practice with their wives, and raising kids who will also probably all be doctors.

Marcia

Don’t answer that. Anyway, you looked stunning in the video, and I really think that West boy likes you Is the tattoo on your calf new? Love it!

I glance down at the lightning shattered mirror representing one of my favorite fantasy series. It is in fact new.

Marcia

I’m sorry this happened to you, but I know, in true Jo fashion, you’re going to turn this into something spectacular.

My vision blurs, but I blink the tears away so I can continue reading.

Marcia

I love you and am just as proud of you now as I’ve always been. Take back your power however you need, but please remember to take some time for yourself during all of this. You’re strong, not invincible. See you for Thanksgiving at the cabin?

I lose the fight against my tears and drop my phone in the fluffy black blanket across my lap. Marcia’s words strike something in me, reminding me I haven’t grieved what I feel I’ve lost.

So, that’s what I do—I grieve. I sit on my couch, and I cry.

I grieve losing a job I loved. Maybe not at the end, but when I left my secure position in marketing to transition to social media, I did. I had so much hope for my future at Vyce. I saw something the others lost to greed.

I grieve losing my protected online identity. I don’t have to lose Hex completely, but she’s no longer a secret, no longer someone I get to keep to myself. She’s no longer a comfort blanket.

Hex is strong, fierce, confident, and not afraid of what the world thinks of her. She’s everything Jo tries to be. Hex is who I wish I could be all the time, not a mask I wear when I’m scared.

And last, I grieve losing a man I just met, because I’ll never be able to let him in. West might be exactly what I need, but I’ll never know because I won’t let myself have him.

I can’t be left behind again. I’m sick of being hurt, sick of being traded in for the next best thing.

I’d rather be alone. I’m probably better off that way.

Once I feel like I’ve cried enough for the year, I respond to Marcia’s text, letting her know I’ll see her at the cabin in Gatlinburg for Thanksgiving, wipe my face, eat a gummy, put a cold mask on to help with facial swelling, and watch reruns of Game Changer until the edible wears off.

Then I force myself to pick up my phone again.

Staring at my screen until it goes black from inactivity makes me groan. “You’re being ridiculous.”

I tap the screen and it unlocks. This time, I click the first, and most popular app in my social media lineup and hold my breath.

The notification bar pops up showing numbers I didn’t think the app could count to across messages, followers, likes, and mentions. I check my follower count first, easing myself in.

I’ve had hundreds of viral videos before. I’ve gotten messages and comments ranging from real sugar daddy offers to, kill yourself, you dirty whore from accounts with no profile pictures.

Social media hardens you, and I always felt lucky that at least no one knew who I was, that I got to hide and let Hex tackle the hate, giving the piece of me who’s sick of being tough a break.

On one platform alone, I went from 1.2 million followers to 1.6 million. I gained over 400,000 followers in four fucking days.

I blink, expecting the number to change into something more believable.

A ton of my videos have spiked in popularity again, earning more badges from the app as a reward.

Fucking insane. This is an impossible scenario, an anomaly no one could replicate if they tried.

I’ll be at two million by next week if the trend keeps its upward climb.

I flip over to West’s account. He’s up half-a-million followers, teetering close to 700,000 in total. He’ll be getting the little magic M on his account soon.