Four Letter Word

“Tomorrow,” she answered, holding the lid of the trash can open for me. She then took the unfinished bottle of moscato and recorked it before sticking it into the refrigerator. “We’ll take a drive down to Whitecaps and get you set up. I’m sure he’ll want you to start immediately. We just had someone quit last week.”

“It’ll only be until I find an x-ray job. Are you sure he won’t mind if it’s temporary?”

I knew some managers frowned upon hiring someone who wasn’t willing to stick around. I wouldn’t blame Nate for being hesitant about bringing me on, and I would never keep my motives from him. I could very easily find a job in a couple weeks and leave them short staffed.

On the other hand, it could take me months to find an x-ray position here locally.

Tori placed her hands on my shoulders, gently squeezing. Her eyes got soft.

“You know you don’t have to jump right into something. You could take a few weeks to relax—”

I cut her off.

“I need to work, Tori. I can’t just sit around here. I’ll go crazy.”

Crazy thinking about how I was suddenly single for the first time in seven years, and how I’m going to be divorced—divorced—before my twenty-fifth birthday.

Crazy thinking about what I could’ve possibly done to cause this, or to prevent it.

Crazy.

This didn’t feel like my life.

Tori stepped back, dropping her hands with a nod and a smile.

“Okay. You know what’s best for you. And you’ll like it there. Trust me.” Mischief danced in her eyes.

I could only imagine what she meant by that.

“I’m heading to bed. Pick a room, any room. It’s yours.”

“Tori, wait.”

She stopped almost to the stairs, gazing back over her shoulder.

“We’ve done nothing but talk about me all night. Are you okay, with Wes and everything?”

It took her a second, but a ghost of a smile tugged at her mouth.

“Getting there. I mean, it hurts, but you’re here. That’ll help. I know I’ll be okay.” She winked at me before climbing the stairs. “Night, roomie,” she called out.

I stood in the silence of the kitchen for a minute, maybe more, wondering when I could be okay, too.

* * *

I couldn’t remember falling asleep last night.

I couldn’t remember the slow drift of weightlessness that takes over your body when your mind is quiet.

I couldn’t remember relaxing at all in the most comfortable bed I’d ever lain on.

I did, however, remember calling my mother and filling her in on my eventful evening after I carried my suitcases inside. I also unfortunately remembered her sweetly paired “I told you so’s” and “God hates divorce” rantings in my ear.

She was never a huge fan of Marcus, for reasons she never expanded on, but more so, she thought my choice to leave him and move in with Tori, instead of staying and working things out with Marcus, was disappointing.

Disappointing. I disappointed her.

That hurt.

The conversation with my mother was kept brief. I made up an excuse and got off the phone while she was in the middle of yet another spiritual lecture, and I readied myself for bed.

I remembered hitting the soft, billowy mattress and wiping the tears from my eyes.

I remembered flipping my pillow over when I soaked the satin.

I remembered the peaceful hum of the fan spinning overhead, the clock on the wall ticking away the seconds of my misery, and the faint sounds of waves crashing outside my window, and how all of it, every calming noise, irritated me to no end.

But clearing my mind enough to welcome sleep? No. That I couldn’t remember at all.

I woke in a tangle of sheets and blankets, my hair matted and soaked with sweat. My nightshirt twisted on my torso.

I sat up in a jerk, my eyes searching the room for someone.

Someone. That was almost laughable.

I should be used to waking up alone at this point, but somehow this morning felt …different.

Permanent.

Irrefutable.

I used to be a morning person. A life person. Today, not so much.

* * *

“Hellooo?”

Tori waved her hand in my face as we drove down the long stretch of road that runs parallel with the shore.

I dragged my gaze off the dash.

“Huh? What’s up?”

She chuckled softly, peering out the windshield.

“You were spacing out over there. We’re almost at the restaurant. It’s just up here on the right.”

I flipped the visor down and checked my appearance in the mirror.

I fingered the ends of my long, bottle-dyed blond hair, then smeared on a quick application of lip gloss.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” I replied through a rushed exhale. My stomach felt coiled into a rigid knot. I shifted in my seat, shrugging. “Just new job jitters, I guess. I hope he hires me.”

Tori laughed again as I leaned back in the seat and tucked my lip gloss into the front pocket of my jeans.

“What?” I asked, turning to look at her as the car slowed down.

Her profile was devilish, lifted in amusement, matching her signature ruby lip she always wore no matter if she was going out or cleaning the house.

Tori always wore red lipstick. And she rocked it.

“Nate isn’t an idiot. He knows what he’s doing. You’re in.”

I thought about how strange that sounded, then decided to shift the attention off me and onto the one person I knew had to be hurting as badly as I was.