I was no longer young.
“But I’m not dead yet,” I whispered to my reflection.
On that, I shrugged my purse off my shoulder so it fell to the counter. I dug my phone out. And I made the call I needed to make.
“Hello, Amelia, how’s your evening?” Josie answered.
“I need lunch.”
There was a heavy pause before, “Sorry?”
“You. Me. Alyssa. Lunch tomorrow. Emergency,” was all I could force out, my eyes still glued to the mirror.
“Are you okay?” she asked, concern heavy in her tone.
“No. No, I am far from okay,” I told her.
“Do you need me to come over now?” she went on.
“Lunch,” it came out as a squeak. I was losing it. I could feel it happening. “Tomorrow. Can you call Alyssa?” I closed my eyes tight, fighting my thoughts telling me I was being dramatic, selfish, thoughtless, demanding, weak. Telling myself these were good women, they’d get it. If I let them, they’d get me. I opened my eyes, whispering, “Please, Josie.”
“Anything, Amelia. Anything you need,” Josie whispered back. Yes, a good woman. “I’ll call Alyssa. Are you going to be okay until then?”
“Yes.” It came out hoarse. I cleared my throat. “Yes. I’ll be okay.”
“Okay,” she said as if she didn’t believe me. “I’ll text you with where and when.”
“Okay, Josie,” I replied.
“You sure you’re going to be okay?”
No.
But I was sure I had to keep trying.
At least for a little while.
“Yes, I will be and Josie…?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you,” I said softly.
“As I said, anytime, Amelia. Anything.”
Yes, I so very much liked her.
I just hoped she would keep liking me.
“See you at lunch tomorrow,” she continued.
“See you at lunch, Josie.”
We said our good-byes and rang off.
Then I went directly to the garage and got some boxes, went to the kitchen and got the packing tape and went back to my bathroom.
Unless they were absolutely necessary to remain clothed for the next two days, I boxed up everything.
Everything.
Clothes. Shoes. Belts. Handbags.
I also tossed in all my makeup.
I dragged it all to the garage, took a shower, got into the only nightgown I’d left for me and got into bed.
It was early.
It took forever to fall asleep.
But I finally did it and wished I didn’t.
Because when I did, I dreamed of watching Mickey marry a tall, beautiful redhead who was not me.
* * * * *
Rushing out the door before the furniture truck even pulled away after they made their deliveries the next morning, I drove hell on wheels into Magdalene.
I parked on Cross Street.
I hoofed it to Weatherby’s Diner.
I immediately spied Josie and Alyssa sitting in a booth, ready for me. I knew this because they were seated on the same side and three glasses of ice water were in front of them.
And I ignored their looks of shock when they saw me walk in, makeup-less, hair pulled back in a ponytail and I knew looking pale and frantic.
I slid in across from them as Alyssa breathed, “Oh my God, honey, you look like—”
“I need a makeover,” I announced.
Alyssa clamped her mouth shut.
They stared at me.
Then I jumped when suddenly Josie went flying out the side of the booth.
This was because Alyssa shoved her out.
Josie righted herself and whirled, eyes narrow, face full of fury, tone frosty. “What on earth?”
Alyssa, who didn’t hesitate in exiting the booth she’d shoved Josie out of, waved in her face.
“No time,” she muttered then looked to the long counter. “Marjorie. Three patty melts. I’ll send someone from the salon to pick them up in twenty.”
“I don’t want a patty melt,” Josie snapped.
Alyssa didn’t look at her. “Two patty melts and a Reuben.”
Josie got close to her. “I don’t want a Reuben. I want a Cobb salad.”
“Oh for ef’s sake!” Alyssa clipped. “Two patty melts and a Cobb salad.”
Through this, I got out of the booth too and added tentatively, “I actually wanted a chicken Caesar.”
Alyssa threw up her hands but asked a waitress who was apparently named Marjorie. “Got that?”
“Got it, babe,” Marjorie replied.
“And three Diet Cokes,” Alyssa kept going, doing this grabbing my hand and beginning to drag me to the door.
We were out on the sidewalk and Alyssa was tugging me down it in the direction of her salon, Maude’s House of Beauty (Alyssa was a hairdresser who owned her own place, this, plus Josie having a career in the fashion world, why I enlisted their support) when Josie demanded, “Can you explain why you’re acting like a lunatic?”