Chapter Thirty-One
Josephine
As soon as I finished up at Lincoln Center, I found the first available bathroom and stood in front of the dimly lit mirror. My appearance was cringe-worthy. If I asked the mirror who it considered to be the fairest of them all, it’d reply with, “Damn girl, it ain’t you. You’re a hot mess.”
I pulled off my NYFW cap and inspected the rat’s nest on top of my head. I’d attempted to pull it back in a loose knot during my shift, just to get it off of my face. Somehow 90% of the strands were now out of the ponytail and sticking up around my head. My mascara was smudged under my eyes and I had some sort of black substance streaked across my left cheek.
Hey God, if you’re up there, this would be a great time for you to work some miracles. Like maybe you could turn this bar of soap into a curling iron.
God’s answering machine must have been full or something because the soap didn’t change and I was left with what little makeup I’d stuffed into my purse in recent months. In total, I had a small black comb, black eyeliner, and red lipstick. I pulled my ponytail out and ran the comb through my hair. Not bad, not bad. Starting to look more like a human. Next, I used a tissue to dab away the mascara beneath my eyes and the black streak across my cheek. I used the black eyeliner to rim the edges of each eye and thanked my lucky stars that my complexion was clear and even on its own. I coated my lips in red lipstick and then braided my hair so that it lay over my shoulder. In a matter of five minutes, I’d gone from a 1.5 to at least a solid 5.
It’d have to do.
I pulled my phone out of my purse as I walked through Lincoln Center to the front entrance to catch a cab. I had a few text messages from Lily waiting for me that I’d check later, and Julian had texted me to let me know he and Dean were at the bar; the final text from my mom was the one to catch me off guard. My mom usually preferred to call and leave me voicemails. They were always short and sweet, and had a way of feeling like a dagger to my heart. I opened the text and braced myself for whatever stones and arrows she was wielding that day.
Mom: Josephine, your father’s 60th birthday is in two weeks and he’d really like you to come in town for it. I know that you have a busy life in New York, so I don’t expect you to stay for long. Maybe you could just come for the weekend?
Ever since my mom had mentioned my dad’s birthday, the guilt of knowing I’d be missing it had started to eat away at me. I thought about it as I lay awake at night, trying to figure out a way to get down there to visit him. I didn’t want to miss his birthday, but I’d yet to figure out how it would be possible. After next week, my temporary job at NYFW would be over, which meant I’d need to find another job to help make ends meet. Not to mention, Lorena was getting out of rehab very soon and I had no clue what she planned on doing with my position once she was back at work. Julian had hired me, not her. Would she need an assistant? Would she want it to be me?
If not, it meant I’d be completely unemployed in less than a week.
Perfect.
I was in the midst of some major changes, which meant that I should have been saving every single penny that came my way, not attempting to travel across the country for a weekend getaway. Unfortunately, I didn’t think my mother saw it that way. The situation was cut and dried for her: be there for your father’s 60th birthday or let him down. Simple as pie. Southern peach cobbler.
I headed toward the nearest subway entrance and rang Lily, praying she’d answer.
“JOSIE. Finally!” she screamed into the phone once the call connected.
I hadn’t been expecting such an exuberant greeting.
“Hey Lil. What’s up?”
She sighed, exasperated by my lack of enthusiasm. “Uh, clearly you have not read the texts I’ve been sending you.”
I cringed. “No, sorry. I was at work. Why?”
“Guess who just put in her two weeks’ notice at work?”
I stopped walking midway between steps so that the person walking behind me completely knocked into me. I didn’t even flinch when they cursed at me and told me to get out of the way. Who the hell cared? I was in complete shock as I tried to process the fact that MY BEST FRIEND WAS MOVING TO NEW YORK.
“Is this a joke right now? So help me god, do you realize how much I’ll kill you if this is a joke?”
Lily laughed. “This is not a drill, my friend. This is happening. I’m about to purchase a Greyhound ticket and everything.”
“Lily, you just completely saved the day!”
Yes. Yes. Yes. Things would work out. If Lily was moving to New York, that meant she’d be able to cover half of the rent. I’d have way less expenses when she moved to town and maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to have my peach cobbler and eat it too.
In two weeks’ time, I’d head down to Texas to visit my parents and then ride back on the bus with Lily. I’d take her around and show her everything I knew. We’d hit the town together and I’d instruct her on which subway lines to avoid if she didn’t want to step in a puddle of urine, which street vendors had the saltiest soft pretzels, and which apartments to avoid if she didn’t want to stumble upon a random swinger’s party. I could hardly wait.
“We have so much to plan, Lil,” I said, unable to contain the giant smile spreading across my face.
She laughed. “Yeah, starting with how the hell we’re going to share that damn futon.”