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My eyebrows hit my hairline. She couldn’t have said anything more shocking — except maybe announcing that she would be in Sissy’s bridal party.
“Are you kidding? Cam, you were a beauty pageant queen.” I laughed. “And I was definitelynot. I feel like you’re forgetting the year I refused to wear anything but overalls. If they hadn’t had that ‘accident’ in the washer, I’d probably still be wearing them.”
“Your daddy stapled those straps back together so many times it was kind of tragic.” We both laughed at the memory of those poor overalls. The straps had been so worn that Mama couldn’t even sew them together anymore. “Andyouare forgetting that I was never actually a beauty pageant queen. I was always runner-up to Sissy.”
“Oh, I just meant that — ”
She waved away my apology before I could even finish it.
“Don’t worry, I don’t have any lingering resentment about my pageant days.” She groaned, the corner of her lips tipping up. “I actually really hated doing them, but you know how it was with our moms — they loved the idea of their girls doing pageants together. It never bothered me coming in second to Sissy, which is probably why our friendship worked for as long as it did. She loved the spotlight, and I was comfortable being in the background.”
“That’s a pretty accurate description of Sissy. You should have barfed on stage. It has a one hundred percent success rate at getting you out of pageants, in my experience.”
We both laughed. A series of dings had me glancing at my phone.
Daddy: Ready when you are kidding
Daddy: Kidding
Daddy: Kidding!
Daddy: KIDDO. Damn phone.
“Sorry, I hate to run out,” I told Cam, “but my dad’s ready to be picked up from his meeting, and I’m currently his chauffeur.” I was sure she already knew about Daddy’s accident.
“No problem. I should probably get out of here too, before someone spots me.” She went to stand but hesitated for a moment. “We should exchange numbers. Holden said you were going to be in town for a while helping out, and I’d really love to catch up.”
My frazzled brain chose to focus on the nameHoldeninstead of the request to exchange numbers. She still talked to Holden? Even after his brother had cheated on her? How did that work? I had so many questions running through my mind that it took me a second to answer.
“Yes! I would love to.” I grabbed my phone and opened the contacts app, passing it to her. “Here, put your information in, and I’ll send you a text so you have mine too.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask about her relationship with Holden, but for some reason I couldn’t get the question out. After we’d exchanged our information we said goodbye, promising to schedule lunch or dinner soon.
I packed up my things, thinking about what a relief it had been to see Cam again and to know she didn’t hate me. Not even close. I hadn’t realized how much dread and misplaced guilt I’d been carrying around with me all this time.
Distance — for my own peace of mind — had seemed like such a great idea when I’d left for college. I thought that I’d needed the space to heal and become my own person in a less toxic environment. But now I was wondering if staying away for so long had been the right thing to do after all. It had all just seemed so big, so dramatic, and it had been really, really awful. With the exception of the infrequent run-ins with Sissy, though, my time home so far had been nice. I was beginning to think I had allowed the unpleasant memories to grow and shift until the situation was a much bigger monster in my head than it was in real life.
My relationship with Sissy might be damaged beyond repair, but my other relationships with my home didn’t need to suffer for it. As I drove the few blocks to pick Daddy up, I took in the familiar sights with a renewed determination. I promised myself that I wouldn’t let my past dictate my future here anymore, that I wouldn’t let it keep getting in the way of the relationships that mattered most to me.
And in that moment, I believed it was possible.
12
“Are you listening to the self-help podcast?” Maxine’s voice drifted through the phone as I paced past the restaurant door for at least the hundredth time. Half my attention was on dodging all the normal human beings who were actually going inside.
“Yes,” I responded absently, checking the text Sissy had sent that morning again to verify I was wearing down the pavement in front of the right place.
Sissy: Macon wants to have dinner with the siblings at The Social this evening at 7. I told him you were free since you never have plans. It’s very important that you attend and wear something that won’t embarrass me. Text me a picture of your outfit so I can tell you if it’s acceptable.
Spoiler alert: I had not texted her a picture of my outfit despite a series of increasingly demanding texts throughout the day. Whoever invented the hide alert function on phones is my personal hero.
“I feel like maybe you’relistening tothe podcast but you’re nothearingthe podcast, you know?”
I stared at my reflection in the window. The high-waisted maroon trousers were my most flattering pair of pants, and usually made me feel confident. They were my power pants. Tonight, however, they were just making it hard for me to take a deep breath. I suspected this was the result of Mama’s cooking and not a polyester-blended betrayal. I had paired the pants with a cream blouse with ruffled short sleeves.
“I don’t know what that means,” I mumbled, checking out the back of my pants in the window to make sure none of the seams had popped.
“It means you are listening to the words but not putting them into practice. Have you tried to picture your best evening and spoken the words into the universe like they’re truth?”
