Read Online The Last Good Night by Emily Listfield - Free Book Online Page B

was because I was uncomfortable wearing expensive clothes to meet her.
    She straightened up. “I watched you on TV,” she said.
    â€œWhat’d you think?”
    Shana can be a surprisingly accurate critic. She once told me I talked too quickly whenever I had a hard name to pronounce and when I rewatched the tapes, I realized she was right. She was good on clothes, too, though she wouldn’t give up trying to get me to wear false eyelashes. “Jay thought you had to chill out a little, but I thought you were all right,” she said.
    I frowned. Jay was Shana’s new boyfriend. She and I had a deal that she wouldn’t tell anyone who her “big sister” was, but she told him right away. She even brought him to our apartment on a Saturday afternoon without calling first. Jay stood in the center of the living room, scanning the decor like an auctioneer at a wake. “This real?” he asked, picking up a Cartier travel clock we had gotten as a wedding present. “What about this?” Since then, Jay has been something of a sore spot between us. Sometimes when we meet for coffee, I spot him cruising by the window of the diner in his baggy jeans and massive hooded leather coat, back and forth, back and forth.
    â€œYou get a raise when you went on that new show?” Shana asked.
    â€œYes.”
    She nodded. “That’s good. How much they pay you for doing that shit?”
    â€œMore than they should and less than the other guy. So how’s school going?” I asked. “Have you been getting to English class?” She had a special dispensation to meet me during gym on Wednesday mornings, but she didn’t always make it to the English class afterwards. When I had time I walked her back to the large tan brick building filmed with soot and made sure she at least entered the front door.
    She shrugged.
    â€œYou’re making me look bad,” I said. “You want the principal to call me and make me sit in his crummy office?”
    â€œThat ever happen to you when you were a kid?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œNo, I bet you were one of those fucking cheerleader types, straight A’s, hall monitor, all that shit.”
    I laughed. “Not quite.”
    â€œRight,” she said sarcastically. “You were stealing hubcaps and getting tattoos.”
    â€œWell, we can’t all have your sterling résumé,” I countered, “but I had my fair share of trouble.”
    She looked at me condescendingly. “Sure.”
    I took a sip of my acrid coffee.
    â€œJay says you’re just one of those do-gooders,” Shana continued. “He says all of you feel guilty about something. He says you think you can buy yourself a good night’s sleep for the two dollars you spend on my goddamned hot chocolate.”
    â€œJay says, Jay says. Don’t you have a mind of your own?” I teased.
    Shana stared blankly at me, puzzled as always by my nudges toward feminism. “How’s your little girl?” she asked finally.
    The only time I had really gone up in her estimation was when I had a baby. I knew that she wanted one herself. It was one of the things I was trying to talk her out of.
    â€œShe’s fine.”
    â€œHow much does she weigh?”
    â€œNineteen pounds.”
    â€œIs she sitting up on her own?”
    â€œShe just started to.”
    â€œI’m gonna come see her again soon.”
    â€œI’d like that. Shana, you’re not thinking about having a baby with Jay, are you?”
    She shrugged.
    â€œHow are you going to go to college with a baby?” I asked.
    â€œGirls like me don’t go to college.”
    â€œThere’s no such thing as ‘girls like me.’ You can be whatever ‘kind of girl’ you choose to be.” I realized that I sounded like some irritating self-help book, but I believed it nonetheless. I had to. Shana sighed theatrically.
    Nevertheless, I pulled out a