Read Online The Big Dream by Rebecca Rosenblum - Free Book Online Page B

that was coming through the bathroom door.
    â€œI’m here.” Yaël put the wine on the sink-edge, but it was curved and the bottle almost pitched before she caught it.
    â€œWait, here on the phone or here at the party? Where are you?”
    â€œI’m here. I’m both. I’m in the bathroom.” Yaël put the wine on the floor next to the plunger. It stayed there.
    â€œYou’re here! That’s so great. I was worried you wouldn’t come. Someone said they saw you, but they said your hair was wavy. Did you do something new?”
    Yaël pressed her hips against the edge of the vanity and leaned forward to look at herself in the three-way. The hot rooms had undone some of the straight-ironing. A thick blonde wave bumped either side of her jaw. Yaël pushed out a breath. “Where are you?”
    â€œLaundry room. Behind the kitchen. Come right now. We have guacamole and chips. Well, we have chips.”
    â€œAnd beer!” someone yelled in the background.
    Sasha laughed. “Come right now.” Then dial tone.
    Yaël put her phone back in her purse and took out her Almond Plum lipstick. She put some on almost carelessly, glaring at her hair. There was a big round brush on the back of the toilet. It took her a moment of thinking about germs before she
picked it up. It took a much longer moment to pluck all the curly brown hair out of the bristles. The brushing didn’t even do much good. Yaël set the brush back in its basket and started to look for a blow dryer, but then her purse rang. She gave up and opened the door.
    There was a guy in the hall, leaning against the wall with his yellow Kodiaks crossed at the ankles, waiting patiently. He smiled when he saw her – at her face not her sweater, even – but she didn’t feel up to another new person, so she kept going. At least there was someone else there wearing footwear.
    Back in the kitchen, she found a door beside the refrigerator. Sasha was sitting on a shiny white drier, a brown beer bottle clutched to her thigh, her phone to her ear. She flipped it closed when Yaël came in. “You were taking too long. I’ve missed you.” She hopped off the dryer and stretched up to kiss Yaël on the mouth. Yaël felt herself blush before she could help it, but Sasha just hopped back on the drier and scooted over to make room.
    Yaël licked Chapstick and beer that the kiss had left on her mouth, though she didn’t like either taste. Then she examined the seating situation. Sasha was a good six inches shorter than her and she had been able to get easily from floor to drier, but Sasha was wearing purple skate shoes and jeans. Yaël was wearing a slim black skirt that stopped well above the knee, high boots and hose. She leaned against the drier instead, beside Sasha’s legs but not touching. Sasha lowered her eyebrows, scooted closer and put an arm around Yaël’s shoulder. Then she drank deeply from her beer, gestured across the room and said, “Yaël, this is Alan, and Sarah, and that’s Cal.”
    â€œIt’s nice to meet you,” Yaël said without moving. She had decided she didn’t want to shake any more hands tonight. No one seemed offended.
    The friend named Alan was sitting on top of the washing machine and did not notice he was being introduced. He wore a black wool peacoat, and was slouched so far forward his stomach
touched his thighs. The girl, Sarah, was standing beside him and Alan was saying something in her ear, beneath her long frizzy hair. The hems of Sarah’s jeans were salt-stained. In September. Cal was fiddling with a spinning-reel drying line mounted on the wall. All Yaël could see of him was a German army jacket and lank fair hair. Still facing away the wall, he said, “What kind of name is Yaël?”
    â€œIt’s my name.” Her parents were probably watching a movie right now, with pajamas and tea, probably