“He had to run an update on his car–”
“Ooh,” I wiggle my fingers before flicking the tip of my nose, “so fancy.”
She rolls her eyes at me playfully. “It is fancy but don’t be a brat–if you drove more, you know you’d be buying a car like that, too.”
“Touche,” I say, not even a little butthurt that she called me out. “Actually, I feel like my response should have been “cool, when’s he getting here” instead of what I just said.”
Beck just blinks at me because she’s got no idea I’m in the midst of a personal identity crisis. Truly, I’ve only come to terms with it the last day or so myself. But if you aren’t questioning who you are as a human after the trauma I went through, how can you protect yourself against future pain?
“Okay…” she says, confused, folding her arms over her chest. “I didn’t have a problem with what you said… I know you were kiddingish.”
“Kiddingish,” I repeat. “What do you mean?”
“Goldie,” she sighs, “I want to celebrate your new job. I don’t want to fight.”
I grab her wrist. “We won’t fight. Seriously. But… tell me what you mean. I was kidding, but you said I was kiddingish.”
She sighs and unfolds her arms to press her fingertips to her temples, rubbing what I presume to be calming circles into them.
“I know you don’t think that Beau thinks he’s fancy, but I believe your comment had some back-burner judgment in it.”
“What is back-burner judgment?” I ask, raising my palms. “Really, I don’t know.”
“You made the comment playfully, but I think somewhere inside you, you do a lot of judging without even being aware of it.”
“I have no judgments on Beau,” I say because that’s the truth. I love Beau for Beck. He’s great.
“No?” she says, hand on hip as she pinches a bite of cheese from the bowl, dropping it into her open mouth. “You questioned his income when we started dating, you know because he’s a mechanic. And your comment about his car… I think somewhere deep down you’re jealous, not because of Beau but because… you’re not happy with where you’re at, so you deflect a little and talk a little shit.” She shrugs as if solving my exact identity is no big deal to her, and she keeps eating various toppings as I watch.
“It’s how most people are, Goldie. It’s no big deal. And honestly, I was the same way before Beau. I found other people's happiness kind of vexing because I wanted it but didn’t know how to have it for myself.”
I nod, feeling a massive lump in my throat at how quickly we’ve toed into deep, vulnerable shit. “I’m thinking of seeing a therapist,” I say, the words tumbling out quickly like ripping off a bandaid. After feeling so good talking to Edie, I made the choice.
She drops another mouthful of toppings in her mouth, this time shredded lettuce. “Yeah?” she says around the bite. “I think that’s a great idea.”
“The fact that you’re not asking me what for tells me I probably need it more than I even realize.”
Beck laughs, and from the other room, Jett imitates her laugh, making me chuckle too. “Little turd is always making fun of me,” Beck teases. “And I didn’t askwhybecause that’s personal, Goldie. We’re best friends, but I understand some things are meant for professionals.” She licks her lips. “Thatand well, I’ve met Constance. So,yeah.”
We both snort at that then my phone rings. I dig it out of my purse on the wall and laugh when I see the name on the screen. I hold it up to Beck.
“Speak of the devil,” she grins.
I answer, whispering, “just give me a sec,” before wandering into the hallway for some privacy. I don’t need privacy, but it’s more for Beck–because no one wants to hear a conversation with Connie Berry.
“Goldie, are you there? I hear you whispering,” my Mom says loudly, making me jerk the phone away from my ear just a bit.
“Hi Mom, yeah, I’m here. I’m at Beck’s having dinner. I only have a few minutes,” I lie because Beau isn’t even home yet, and we won’t eat without him so I have time. I just don’t want to spend the time on her. Not today.
Today is a good day.
“Oh, how is Rebecca doing?” she asks, her phony tone a lock. Shit… I have a phony tone that is virtually foolproof, too. Does everyone knowI’ma bullshitter whenIuse it?
“She’s great,” I reply, letting my fingers discover the rugged pattern of the textured wall. “She made a celebratory dinner for me because I got a new job. Manager of Human Resources at Gonzo Family Auto here in Oakcreek.”
Crickets.
“Mom?”