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A consolation prize
(Blakely)
Again, the next morning, I woke up to Jess freaking out. “Oh my God, look at you!”
My chin trembled. My eyes were so swollen from crying that I could barely see. I knew what she meant but I still asked, “What?”
“You are splotchy, swollen, and your nose is as red as an alcoholic in a Christmas play — the alcoholic is Rudolph, in case you missed the reference. What’s going on?”
“I miss Liam!”
Her eyes went wide. She sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you love him, like really really love him?”
I nodded. “That’s what I’ve been saying!”
“So what, you’re just... I don’t know — do you need to talk to him? Is that how you get on with your day — because we have hair and makeup coming, you need to be ready.”
I sat up in bed clutching my phone. “You think I should call him?”
“What the heck do I know? I’m giving up. You want a rebound dude you barely know, you go ahead... jeez.”
I pushed the button while she kept talking. “...And here’s another thing — why are you letting me decide for you anyway? Why are you listening to me? I advise you all the time and you push back, you argue, you ignore me, it’s like our thing. This is too much power...”
The phone rang and rang and rang, finally a default voice said, “This user has not set up their voice mailbox...”
I hung up and dropped the phone.
“He didn’t answer. He’s never not answered before.”
She frowned. “I guess that’s a sign, right? Maybe, just maybe, he knows this is for the best. I know it’s hard, but you’re so far away and... Hey, I brought juice for breakfast, I left it downstairs, you need to come down.”
“Hair and makeup won’t be here for a few hours, give me some time.” I flipped on my side, pulled the covers to my ears, and ignored her.
* * *
I shuffled downstairs when there were already three people in my house to ‘work’ on me. This was not optimal because I looked horrible and I was surly for lack of food and coffee.
They were all positive and beaming, because that was their job, to be capital P ‘Persuasive’.
They would confer beauty on me, they would convince the world that I was beautiful, but I could see the alarm in their eyes. They were used to their clients being helpful, clients who would juice fast, sleep well, and hydrate, instead of all-night-long crying.
I yanked open the fridge, pulled out a yogurt cup that said zero fat, zero sugar and sat down with a spoon. “What are we doing?”
Jess sighed. “These are your fairy godmothers, and literally, you are behaving like the evil stepsister.”
“And you’re Cinderella?”
“Exactly!”
I rolled my eyes.
She said, “But, on further reflection, feeling partially responsible for this heartbreak you’re going through—”
“Partially! Day before yesterday he was the love of my life, now he’s not answering my calls. This is all your fault.”
The hair and makeup people looked back and forth at our faces, then began opening up their cases, spreading their tools on my table, pretending to be busy.
She flipped her hair. “Look, my best friend has taken up with a guy from three thousand miles away, while she is breaking up with her husband. The guy? He is a landscaper, he owns a beat up pub, a broken down truck — he has no prospects. My best friend has so many prospects. She is sitting on piles of prospects, piles and piles...” She slurped from her giant juice. “I feel kind of like shit, but also, I think it was the best advice. I’m torn.”
