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“Are you kidding?” Sarah asks. “Britt, you are way too hard on yourself. And you put too much on your own plate, and you don’t give yourself enough room to breathe.
“You’ve got a mom who doesn’t come around or call, a dad who gets drunk and screams–” I haven’t told her about the slapping incident, partly because I was too embarrassed, and then later because I was too ecstatic about the modeling gig, “–so you need someone in your corner telling you when you’re doing something right.”
She’s definitely right about what she’s saying, although I never really thought it this way before.
You know, in some ways, I think I’ve gotten so used to being put down and ignored by my family that I sort of become uncomfortable when people try to encourage me or take care of me or even just look out for my best interests.
It’s wild to me, because it’s not an uncomfortable feeling that’s brought on necessarily by the kindness extended. Rather, it’s an uncomfortability that comes along with not knowing how to accept that kindness.
I get flustered and awkward and blush a lot. And in an effort to compose myself and remain in control of the situation, I think it sometimes also comes off as somewhat cold.
“I kind of…” Sarah starts out, but then trails off and adds, “Nah. Never mind. It’s stupid.”
“What?!” I ask her, turning down the volume of the radio that was blaring.
“Nothing, I shouldn’t have even started that sentence.”
“Sarah, we have not lied to each other in over a decade, and we are not going to start today.”
“Well…” she says with a smile. “It’s just that I kind of… I’m kind of jealous,” she confesses. “I kind of wish I could model, too.”
“You can!” I nearly shout as I also jump out of my seat in excitement. “Omigod, maybe I’m just still on a little bit of a manic high from this entire day.
“But think about how cool it would be! You and me out in the world being body-positive and showing everyone what we’re made of. I could ask Simon and Tony if they’d see you.”
“Noooo! This is your thing. You need space with it.”
“Space? What are you even saying? Living back at our parents’ house is the most space we’ve had between each other over the course of our entire friendship. At least when we were kids, we got to go to the same school.”
“Yeah, and now there is no school,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “God, I wish this pandemic thing would be over.”
I agree with her. It took us forever to find any restaurant that was open for dine-in to celebrate. By the time we did, it was nearly eight o’clock and we were both famished.
We located a taco stand on the outskirts of WeHo where a couple— who, by the way, were in no way interested in wearing masks and who seemed to be experiencing no fear of what mouth-to-mouth contact could do during a pandemic— were kind of drunk and bought me my tacos while I was going into the details of the gig with Sarah.
“Just let me ask them,” I insist once I’m done. “You don’t have to go through with it, but at least let me try and set it up for you. The worst that they can do is say no.”
And I highly doubt they would. In my opinion, Sarah is far more beautiful than I am, even though she says the opposite is true about me. I have no doubt Simon will love how she looks on camera.
Oh, Simon…
I have been dreaming about that delicious-looking man since the moment that we met. I considered telling Sarah this, but if she’s already feeling kind of awkward about interfering in my new interests, I don’t know that me crushing on the boss would make her feel much better about the idea.
We’re pulling up to my dad’s for Sarah to drop me off when she says to me, “Are you sure that you don’t want to stay here tonight? I already asked my mom after I told her how bad your dad’s drinking has gotten and she said that you are welcome to stay in her guest room anytime.”
It’s so nice that Sarah and her family have such a good relationship, and that they’re so welcoming of me. But I can’t impose on them.
I imagine it’s been enough of an adjustment having Sarah back home from college the last few days. The last thing I want to do is overwhelm anyone with my presence.
“I’ll be okay,” I tell her as I open the car door.
“Okay,” she says, “but promise to call me if you’re not. I’ll come right over and scoop you up.”
“Deal,” I say as I blow her a kiss and close the door.
