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Chapter 17
Thenextfewweekspassed similarly to that one. Teaching my own rehearsals and classes. Running Blake’s rehearsals, which she left basically to me. Working on costumes for the kids. Helping in the garden. Babysitting Katy while my parents had doctors’ appointments. And working occasional catering jobs.
It was exhausting.
I was running myself ragged. But I didn’t have time to think about what I was doing or if there was a better way. Sleep never came easily. I was constantly worried about my family’s finances, my schedule for the next day, and the dance studio. I felt peace knowing that I was helping my parents and baby sister, but for the most part, we lived separate lives. I didn’t know what they were doing half the time, and they knew I was busy with work. We communicated through sticky notes on the fridge, passing important information or our whereabouts.
I didn’t tell them about my catering job. And I didn’t broadcast the fact that I was bringing in groceries a few times a week. I figured if I brought things in slowly, they wouldn’t realize that we weren’t running out of food. So far, it worked well. Everyone was busy, and I felt satisfied knowing I was helping them out.
But I had no one to share my innermost thoughts and feelings with. Every night when I lay in bed, loneliness surrounded me, heavier than my blankets. I missed the late-night conversations I’d have with Scott, laughing with him about the ridiculous things happening at work or home, but also feeling free to tell him what was going on and weighing me down. I hadn’t realized how important of a role he played in my life until it was gone.
It was for the best. I needed to focus on my family.
On the first Sunday of November, a rare window of time I had off, I came downstairs into the kitchen, dressed for my first evening at Lucas and Amy’s new house. My mom was in the kitchen, finishing up a phone call.
“Thank you for the offer. I’ll talk to my husband and get back to you,” she said into the phone. She murmured a few more “uh-huh”s and then hung up.
She turned to face me, a little dazed. “That was strange.”
“Who was it?” I asked.
“A producer from the True Trophy Wives of Orange County. Apparently, they heard about your dad’s accident and want us to be on the show.”
I widened my eyes. “What do they want to do with you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’m not sure. Usually, they like to humiliate people on there, but they said something about a benefit for raising awareness of the dangers of texting while driving. They wanted to have us on there.”
I nodded, unsure of what my parents should do. They didn’t deserve the weird drama that came along with the Trophy Wives, no matter how fake the show might be. But it seemed like a good cause. And being on the show also meant . . .
“Mom, you have to do it,” I said suddenly, hitting the table.
She jumped. “Goodness, Ivy. Why do you think that?”
“The money! They’ll pay you to be on. I bet it will be worth the annoyance of being on the show for one night. They don’t want you to be on permanently, right?”
Mom twisted her lips to the side of her mouth. “No, they said it was just for this benefit.”
“Did they say how much they’d pay?” I asked.
She nodded her head slightly. “Yes.”
“And . . . ?”
She sighed. “And, yes. It’s a good amount of money. It would help our family for sure. But I still don’t know if it’s worth it.”
“How could it not be worth it?”
She tilted her head at me. “There are some things worth more than money. Being on a reality TV show is never something I wanted to do.”
“Oh, Mom. Amy always said that if anyone deserved to be featured as a wife in Orange County, it’s you.”
She huffed a laugh. “I know. But that’s exactly why I shouldn’t be on the show. I don’t want the backlash.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I really think it’s worth it. It’s a good cause, and the money would be an awesome perk.”
She nodded, considering my words. “I’ll talk to your dad, and we’ll consider it.” She looked me over, a softness in her eyes. “How’s Scott?”
I pulled my head back. “Why on earth would you ask that?”
