Page 47 of Healing Eleanor

Shoes clatter across the floor as I hurl them out of my closet. My black heels have to be in here somewhere. Where exactly? No clue. But if I have any hope of looking even remotely presentable tonight, they need to be on my feet pronto.

Thankfully, the black dress from my first company gala six years ago still fits… mostly. The sleeves pinch my arms, and the fabric hugs my hips and thighs more than I remember. If I were richer, I’d just buy a new dress. But no surprise here, I’m not. So if I can just find those strappy heels, maybe I’ll at least appease my mother.

Like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, my hand lands on the familiar strap. I yank them up, practically kissing them. I strap the heels onto my feet and stand. For not wearing them in six years, they’re surprisingly not too uncomfortable.

I check the time on my phone.

5:52 p.m.

Mom should be here any minute.

I run a brush through my waves one last time and swipe on another layer of my favorite mauve lipstick. Then I toss a few bobby pins, a couple of ponytail holders, my lipstick, and my phone into a small black purse.

I take one final glance in the bathroom mirror. Presentable enough. The black dress isn’t terrible. A little tight, yes, but manageable. And even if it’s not something I would’ve picked originally, part of me feels a little bit of pride. I’ve lost enough weight to zip it up, and that has to count for something.

The dress has a high neckline, sheer cap sleeves that puff slightly at the shoulders, and a hem that lands mid-thigh with a subtle slit along the side. Paired with my strappy black sandals, I almost look like I belong somewhere important. Mom didn’t tell me where we’re going, just that it’s a dinner for Edward. So whatever this outfit says about me… it’ll have to be enough.

My phone buzzes in my purse—six sharp. Of course, it’s Mom.

“Hello,” I answer, careful not to hold the phone too close and risk smearing my makeup.

“I’m here,” she says, and hangs up in the same breath.

I ground myself with a slow exhale, rolling my shoulders back. You can do this. I repeat the words over and over again before slipping out the front door.

As promised, Mom is waiting in her car with Scarlett riding shotgun. They must be deep in conversation because when I open the back door and slide in, both of them jump.

“Goodness, Eleanor,” Mom snaps, clutching her chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on someone like that.”

I resist the urge to walk straight back into my apartment. “You literally just called me…”

She tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “Yes, well, you’re usually late.”

My hands curl into fists. I go out of my way to be on time for everything. Even with New York traffic. Even when I’m running on fumes. And she knows that.

“It’s good to see you,” Scarlett intervenes, smoothly changing the subject.

“Yeah, you too,” I reply dryly.

Her bright smile falters, and I try not to feel guilty. It isn’t a lie. Maybe I could’ve said it with more enthusiasm, but lately, my kindness is in short supply.

“Let’s not have an attitude tonight, Eleanor,” Mom says as she pulls away from the curb. “The last thing anyone wants is for you to ruin Edward’s night.” She glances at Scarlett with a tight smile. “Right, dear?”

Scarlett looks at me, then back at Mom, smoothing the skirt of her dress. “Eleanor’s just been having a rough time, Mom. She won’t ruin Edward’s night.” She releases a short, awkward laugh, hoping to lighten the mood.

I stare out the window, jaw clenched, repeating in my mind: just get through the night. You can do this.

“Well, let’s not forget why Eleanor is having a rough time, sweetie,” Mom adds, her voice cool as ice.

I turn toward her reflection in the rearview mirror, rage simmering beneath my skin. “Then give me the pleasure of explaining. I didn’t sleep with Soren for more money or a better position. Sorry I have morals.”

She exhales sharply through her nose. “Well, your so-called morals have ruined your reputation. Don’t forget that I work with these dancers, and I hear the same rumors the rest of these companies do. No wonder you still haven’t found another company to take you. What have I always said about stray dogs, you foolish girl?”

Scarlett shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Can we not do this tonight? Please?”

I bite the inside of my cheek, hard. If I say what I’m thinking, it’ll only make things worse. The silence that settles over us isn’t quiet. It’s screaming with everything we aren’t saying.

Perfectly trimmed trees and immaculate houses blur past the window. My palms are slick with sweat. I desperately hope that we aren’t going where I think we are.