I hunched my shoulders, as if I could contain the excitement that was fast draining out of me. “I’m not doing it for the pay. It’s mostly for the experience. It’s been four years—”
“Uh huh. Well, just don’t go and do something crazy and quit your spa job over it.”
I frowned. “No, no, of course not.”
“Good, because you know how these things go.”
I slumped against the wall. “How do these things go, Carla?”
“Sammy! I swear to God…” She huffed a sigh. “Sorry, what?”
“Nothing. So I called Mom and Dad but no answer.”
“It’s Bridge night. They’re at the Antolini’s.”
“Oh yeah. Bridge night. I forgot.”
“So listen, hon. I’ve got a roast in the oven for tomorrow. The cousins are coming over for Aunt Lois’ birthday and I’ve got a million things left to do.”
“Oh, okay. That sounds fun.”
I imagined my sister’s house bustling with my loud family; kids bumping into adult legs as they chased each other around the living room, while Grandma Bea screeched at them to stop “rough-housing like monkeys at the zoo.”
I smiled against the phone. “I wish I could be there.”
“Listen, you got a good thing going with that spa job. Keep it up. I’ll talk to you soon, yeah?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Bye, Carla. Love you.”
“Love you too, hon.”
The phone went quiet.
My thumb hovered over Beckett’s number but I didn’t feel like talking on the phone anymore. I thought about shooting Max a text to ask him to meet me somewhere, but he was working a double shift at UCSF Medical Center and wouldn’t be home until dawn. People passed me on the street and I had a crazy urge to reach out and grab one by the sleeve and tell them I was going to dance again.
The faces were all strangers.
I went home.
At the Victorian, Elena’s place was bustling with muffled talk and laughter. It was six o’clock; they were probably getting ready to sit down to dinner. On the second floor, Sawyer’s place was quiet. He was probably heating up some crappy food for himself while taking care to make sure Olivia ate the good stuff.
In my place, the silence was stifling.
I threw open the window in the living area but the neighborhood was quiet too; sleepy under the falling twilight. I tried the TV, but it was too loud, talking at me. I shut it off and contemplated the rest of my night. Hours stretched before me.
I had the makings of another tuna casserole in my cabinets and fridge; the only thing I could cook.
My stomach voiced its approval of the plan but a terrible claustrophobia was sneaking up on me, sucking the air out of the room. I needed someone. People. A face and a voice and a kind smile when I shared my news.
I stripped out of my dress and took a shower, keeping the water lukewarm.
As the water fell over me, I replayed my conversation with Carla. I didn’t expect my sister to go into hysterics of joy at my news. But in the eyes of those who knew my past, my accomplishments were always going to be tempered by how close I might be to fucking them all up.
The loneliness of an addict, Max had said.
I stepped out of the shower with my heart beating like a heavy metronome in my chest, counting out the seconds. The exhilaration of my dance morphed into fear. The kind that whispered that I wasn’t good enough to dance anyway, and how much easier would it be to lose myself for a few hours in manufactured happiness? Wouldn’t it be better to feel pretend-good than to feel like this?
“No.” My voice was like a croak.