Okay, being hungry with the smell of good food all around you is awful, but it’s not the worst thing. I amend my previous complaint. The worst thing ever is being in a shitty position and not liking your life because of yourowndamn choices. Just once, I’d like to have someone to blame!
Sulking and feeling exceptionally bad for myself while simultaneously being pissed off at the very same person, my mood is put on hold when my phone rings. Though I know damn good and well it’s not Frank Trello Jr. calling to tell me I passed some psychological test andvoila, a wonderful six-figure PR job isactuallywaiting for me, I’m still a smidge disappointed when I don’t see his name on my phone screen.
Smiling, Iamhappy it’s Beck calling, even if my little fantasy didn’t come true.
“Hi!” I greet her cheerily, in a happy and chipper tone I’m so freaking used to using that I’m not even sure if that’s what I actually sound like when I’m up. Honestly, I’ve forced it so long I’m not sure what’s real.
“Hey, I have to ask you for a favor. Don’t hate me.”
“I don’t mind doing favors. I wouldn’t hate you for that,” I reply as I shimmy my ass off my bed, one cheek jerk at a time. The sulking I was doing made me really comfortable.
“I just hate being a person that calls for something,” Beck says with a heavy sigh. Even though she’s with Beau now, she was a single mom for a long time. Something I’ve learned from being best friends with a single mom is that they workreallyfucking hard and still have a lot of guilt. I try my hardest never to be a source or stem of said guilt.
“You called me yesterday to tell me about that nail polish that reminded you of my personality,” I remind her because as much as I try not to make her feel guilty, it’s pretty easy. She doesn’t give me any ammo.
“Show Stopper, yes,” she breathes, repeating the bright ruby color’s name happily.
“Right. So don’t feel guilty and just ask me for the favor already,” I say as I finally get my ass to the edge of the bed. As I rise to my feet, even after a week, I swear I get a whiff of armpit and bad attitude. “You actually owe me twice after this because Beau’s friend came over smelling like toe jam and earwax had a baby, and named him Atticus.”
Beck laughs but catches herself, stopping after a moment. “He doesnotsmell like that.”
I’m grinning, but she doesn’t have to know that. “Maybe he did. You don’t know because you weren’t here.”
“Wait, Beau was doing you a favor by building the bed that got delivered, right? So doesn’t my ask cancel out your ask?”
I flip my hair over my shoulder and pace across the tiny room, turning to analyze my body’s profile in the long wardrobe mirror. Sucking and releasing, I press a hand to my lower belly and stare at my reflection, expecting to have some metaphysical awakening while knowingexactlywhat’s going to happen.
“I feel fat today,” I say to my friend, then add, “and fine. My favor can cancel out your favor. But you still owe me one.” I turn my back to the mirror because fuck that bitch. “Beck, Atticus moved my mattress, and his smell is burned into my sheets.”
“Wash your sheets, and by the way, don’t think you’re going to verbally tap dance away from that comment. You are not fat, and I swear to Rue McClanahan’s ghost, if I ever hear you say that again, I will strap you to a chair and force you to watchWanderlustandJust Go With It. Over and over.”
I gasp. “First of all, how dare you! We do not use Blanche Devereaux’s Christian name in vain, my friend. And second,” I say, playfully clutching pearls I’m not wearing for the sake of dramatics. See, talking to your best friend always helps your mood. “Do not threaten me with awful Jennifer Aniston rom-coms. It’s too terrifying.”
We both laugh because Jennifer Aniston inFriends?Good. Jennifer Aniston being the love interest of Adam Sandler in more than one flop? Unlike Joey’s take on the meat in the English trifle,not good.
“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Beck finally says softly after our giggles have ended.
I want to argue against her words. I want to ask her,haven’t you ever had a day where your body is your enemy?But she’s not even one year postpartum, and even though she has absolutely felt what I’m feeling, I don’t want her mind in that place right now. A new beau (I’m going to get mileage from that) and happiness? Body image issues have no place there. She doesn’t deserve it.
“What’s the favor?” I ask, diverting back to our main topic. The reason for the call.
“Can you watch Jett this evening?” Beck asks, her tone nearly a squeal.
I look at my watch, but I don’t know for what reason. Preserving a little dignity, maybe? But I’m alone. When I look up and see my stupid reflection looking back at me, wrist out like my schedule is loaded, I want to throw up.
“Of course. What time?”
A whoosh of relief leaves through a breathy exhale. “Thank god.”
“What’s up? I mean, if it’s a weird sex thing, by all means, just tell me it’s something with the studio that you both need to be there for.” I grin as I await her response.
“Goldie!” she laughs. “It reallyissomething for the studio! And I want Beau there to talk to the installation crew.” Beck, who owns and is in the process of opening a pottery studio, is having her kilns and other heavy equipment moved in and installed. I know this. But I love working her up. “Seriously! Ask Beau.”
“Right, right. Hey, no judgment here. Sometimes you just have to rent a cheap room and do all the unspeakable shit you don’t want your own four walls to witness. I get ya,” I say as seriously as possible, biting into my thumbnail to stop my laughter.
“Goldie!” Beck laughs, her voice high and panicked. “You know that isn’t what we’re doing.”
Toeing into my sneakers, I shove a few things into my bag, resting on my dresser. Never go anywhere without a spare pair of panties, even babysitting. I’m telling you, you have no idea when the evil red monster is going to appear, and spare panties have never let me down when I needed them. I grab a hair tie and a few other items and sling a sweater over the top of my bag as I slide the strap over my shoulder.