“Well, if it isn’t Dan Kirchner.”
“Hey there, Zoey. It’s been too long. What’re you drinking?” Zoey sat back in her chair, her eyes traveling up and down the man with a grin on her face nearly as dirty as the martini in front of me. “Whisky straight.”
“Still a badass, I see.” He leaned in closer. “I tried calling you last week. I wanted to take you out. Wine and dine you, only the best for Zoey. Would you ladies like to join me for a birthday party at The House of Yes tonight?”
Dry air hit the back of my throat, and while I tried to breath, my lungs were paralyzed. “A birthday party?A birthday party?How can this even be happening?” Once I finally got oxygen into my body I realized that was it. That was the moment I was going to lose my shit. The train had left the station, and there was no turning back. I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks; it was beyond an ugly cry face. I was blubbering, had snot running out of my nose, and it was uncontrollable. The humiliation and blinding pain of the cheating prick took over.
Zoey walked around the table and wrapped her arm around me. I glanced up to see Dan cringing in horror, which made the tears flow faster. Then I felt it. When I started coughing, I stood up quickly, looking for the bathroom because, at that moment, I found out Icouldcry hard enough to start gagging and vomit melon balls and martinis all over myself and Dan’s shoes.
The restaurant patrons all stepped aside, watching my puke-covered-self approach the bathroom. Once inside, Zoey helped me clean up while I kind of pulled myself together.
“Okay, Sis, let’s get you home.” Zoey’s eyes and rare non-sarcastic tone told me how completely sorry she felt for me. We were just about to leave the bathroom when two women entered, one stopping and pulling Zoey in for a hug.
“It’s great to see you, Tawnee and Ellen.” She nodded at each. “This is my sister Madison.”
“Nice to meet you,” I croaked out, hoping my breath didn’t smell like complete garbage.
Ellen shot Zoey a sweet smile. “Would you both like to join us for a drink?”
Zoey smiled. “We’d love to, but it’s, uh, turned into kind of a girls’ night for us. But we’re having a party at the Magnolia here in New York on the thirteenth. Would you both like to come and catch up?”
“That sounds perfect.” Tawnee smiled and threw her arms around Zoey again as if she had just been handed the keys to the kingdom. “Can’t wait.”
* * *
Zoey and I shuffled down Jackson Street in Old Market arm and arm while I was feeling numb and smelling funky from the vomit and all. Zoey had gotten the chunks off my dress with a wet paper towel, but it was still bad.
I looked on at all the people around me who hadn’t seized the wrong effing day. Who hadn’t put their hearts in the hands of a lying cheater.
Two thoughts zipped through my mind at that moment. One, I wanted to go back in time and bitch slap myself for mymanyhorrible, horrific, and awful choices. I put so much time into someone who I’d tried to squeeze into my “forever guy” mold. My second thought was that I wanted to punch myself in the throat for ever uttering the phrase “forever guy.” Stupid, stupid, and more stupid.
That’s when we saw it. In front of us was a couple walking hand in hand when suddenly the man turned and dropped to one knee, pulling a ring box from his pocket. I couldn’t help but wonder what level of hell I was actually in. Are you fucking kidding me?
Zoey let out a groan. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I guess sisters do think alike.
After chowing down a hot dog from a street vendor, which Zoey agreed was disgusting but delicious, I was hoping I wouldn’t hurl for the second time in one night. As we strolled along, I glanced to my left to see a small shop, the door propped open with a rock. In the window was a sign that read,“Psychic.”
Zoey squeezed my hand. “We have to go in there.”
I was intrigued, and my life was in the damn ditch, so what the hell. “Okay.”
Inside, the small shop was dimly lit with heavy draperies in the entry area. A short woman in her fifties walked in from a side door with dark hair piled on top of her head in a bun and a yellow skirt flowing in tandem with her movements.
“Welcome.”
“Hi, we were just a little curious.” I turned away to quickly deal with the wedgy that wouldn’t quit. “I haven’t noticed your shop before.”
“Well, there are certain times in life when we end up exactly where we should be. Come in, sit for a moment.” Her grin was warm.
She gave me a wink before grabbing our hands and pulling us to a small wooden table with three chairs. She leaned forward on the table, and her eyes examined me closely. “How are you?”
“Um, good. I’m good.” I felt a ping of guilt for lying to the psychic. Could she tell I was lying? Could she smell the noxious odor of vomit and hot dog onions emitting from my person? What was the quickest way to get out of there?
“You’re good?” She looked at me like my second-grade teacher did when she knew I was telling a big old fib. Again, what was the fastest way out of that joint?
Her voice was soft. “You’re hurting.”
