soul.”
My throat suddenly aches with the desire to sob, and tears well up behind my eyes. I blink them away quickly. I never cry in front of people. Ever.
“You tried talking to your friends? Your parents?”
“No,” I say. “No way.”
“You gotta let it go, girlie. Otherwise you’ll spend your whole life thinking about it. Trust me. I know. And it’s much easier to let go of problems when you share them with the people you love.”
“But what if they judge me? What if they hate me for it?”
“Friends don’t judge. Friends just listen.”
The crying feeling threatens to engulf me again. “But I feel like … like this thing … this will never leave me. Like there’s a permanent mark on my record. A stain on my soul.”
“Nothing is permanent. Everything changes. You can choose to let that comfort you, or depress you. Once an event is in the past, it’s just a memory.”
“A bad memory.”
“Sure, sometimes it’s a bad memory. You can choose to remember it and hold on to it forever, or you can forget it, and it’s like it never happened. You’re in control.”
“I’m never in control.” I start laughing, though the lump of tears in my throat is so big and square it hurts. “I am, by nature, out of control.”
“That’s your choice, girlie.” Vic stands up. “Night night. Sweet dreams.”
CHAPTER 11
“Stef is an evil cockmonkey,” announces Pia. “I hope he rots in hell.”
“I hope he gets an STD!” says Coco.
“I hope Hal gets an STD,” says Julia.
“I can’t believe Hal told you his dick liked you,” says Madeleine.
“Diving into the sea was the best idea ever,” says Pia.
“You’re so lucky that guy had a private plane!” says Coco.
“And your parents will have a much better relationship now,” says Pia.
“Totally. No more fighting, no more problems. Divorce is great!” says Madeleine.
“I wish my parents would divorce!” says Pia.
“Being single is the best! Most of the time,” says Julia.
“And you’ll get a job in fashion in a heartbeat. Who wouldn’t want to hire you?” says Coco.
Don’t you just love girls? It’s so simple: I walked into the kitchen two hours ago, apologized profusely for being such a nightmare, confessed everything, and received total acceptance, affection, and absolution in return. It surprised me, but this is how they’ve always treated one another, so it’s how they’re treating me. I’m part of the group. That probably shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is.
Well, I didn’t confess everything .
I didn’t tell them about waking up in the Soho Grand with three thousand dollars in an envelope. I just can’t. I told them about the yacht, that Hal had assumed I was, erm, someone who’d take money for sex, that Stef had set me up, that it was a one-off, the culmination of bad luck and bad decisions. They are shocked enough at that. If they knew I’ve accidentally been playing the part of the happy hooker for the past few months with Mani, Jessop, and whoever the dude was from the hotel room … well, I don’t want to think about their reaction. How could they not judge me? I judge me.
I told them about my parents divorcing. And about being unemployed and my money issues, i.e., that I don’t have any.
“And I am sorry for going so wild with the vodka,” I said, looking each of them in the eye. “I know I’ve been, um, unreliable, and unpredictable. And a bad roommate. And I’m sorry. I was feeling crazy, I guess, and I acted accordingly. I’ll be different now. I swear.”
And then they all started talking at once. It was an orgy of emotional support, a total validation binge.
Just like Vic told me last night, the moment I shared my problems, I felt better. That cold, itchy feeling in my soul started to thaw and ease. I felt lighter, as if the weight that had been pressing down on me, keeping me from laughing or even smiling for the last few weeks, had magically disappeared. Secure is the
My throat suddenly aches with the desire to sob, and tears well up behind my eyes. I blink them away quickly. I never cry in front of people. Ever.
“You tried talking to your friends? Your parents?”
“No,” I say. “No way.”
“You gotta let it go, girlie. Otherwise you’ll spend your whole life thinking about it. Trust me. I know. And it’s much easier to let go of problems when you share them with the people you love.”
“But what if they judge me? What if they hate me for it?”
“Friends don’t judge. Friends just listen.”
The crying feeling threatens to engulf me again. “But I feel like … like this thing … this will never leave me. Like there’s a permanent mark on my record. A stain on my soul.”
“Nothing is permanent. Everything changes. You can choose to let that comfort you, or depress you. Once an event is in the past, it’s just a memory.”
“A bad memory.”
“Sure, sometimes it’s a bad memory. You can choose to remember it and hold on to it forever, or you can forget it, and it’s like it never happened. You’re in control.”
“I’m never in control.” I start laughing, though the lump of tears in my throat is so big and square it hurts. “I am, by nature, out of control.”
“That’s your choice, girlie.” Vic stands up. “Night night. Sweet dreams.”
CHAPTER 11
“Stef is an evil cockmonkey,” announces Pia. “I hope he rots in hell.”
“I hope he gets an STD!” says Coco.
“I hope Hal gets an STD,” says Julia.
“I can’t believe Hal told you his dick liked you,” says Madeleine.
“Diving into the sea was the best idea ever,” says Pia.
“You’re so lucky that guy had a private plane!” says Coco.
“And your parents will have a much better relationship now,” says Pia.
“Totally. No more fighting, no more problems. Divorce is great!” says Madeleine.
“I wish my parents would divorce!” says Pia.
“Being single is the best! Most of the time,” says Julia.
“And you’ll get a job in fashion in a heartbeat. Who wouldn’t want to hire you?” says Coco.
Don’t you just love girls? It’s so simple: I walked into the kitchen two hours ago, apologized profusely for being such a nightmare, confessed everything, and received total acceptance, affection, and absolution in return. It surprised me, but this is how they’ve always treated one another, so it’s how they’re treating me. I’m part of the group. That probably shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is.
Well, I didn’t confess everything .
I didn’t tell them about waking up in the Soho Grand with three thousand dollars in an envelope. I just can’t. I told them about the yacht, that Hal had assumed I was, erm, someone who’d take money for sex, that Stef had set me up, that it was a one-off, the culmination of bad luck and bad decisions. They are shocked enough at that. If they knew I’ve accidentally been playing the part of the happy hooker for the past few months with Mani, Jessop, and whoever the dude was from the hotel room … well, I don’t want to think about their reaction. How could they not judge me? I judge me.
I told them about my parents divorcing. And about being unemployed and my money issues, i.e., that I don’t have any.
“And I am sorry for going so wild with the vodka,” I said, looking each of them in the eye. “I know I’ve been, um, unreliable, and unpredictable. And a bad roommate. And I’m sorry. I was feeling crazy, I guess, and I acted accordingly. I’ll be different now. I swear.”
And then they all started talking at once. It was an orgy of emotional support, a total validation binge.
Just like Vic told me last night, the moment I shared my problems, I felt better. That cold, itchy feeling in my soul started to thaw and ease. I felt lighter, as if the weight that had been pressing down on me, keeping me from laughing or even smiling for the last few weeks, had magically disappeared. Secure is the
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