“Why?” Gwen asked.
“I made out with the band’s saxophonist and told the host her party decor was wack,” Raven deadpanned.
“See, that scenario is plausible, so I have no idea if you’re fucking with me.”
Raven coyly smiled but detailed the truth, and afterward, her friend asked, “Does this mess with your apartment-hunting plans?”
“No, the rental market is what’s messing with my plans. And if I’d known it was this bad, I might’ve worked it out with the other guy.”
Up until a few months ago, she’d lived in a one-bedroom apartment with a view, but with an impending rent increase, Raven had told her landlord, in so many words, to kiss her ass. She’d thought she’d find better. In reality, everything was similarly expensive and competitive, so she’d been forced to temporarily move back in with her mother.
“Come to the movies with Tony and me tonight. Get your mind off things,” Gwen said.
“Tempting, but it’s okay, girl,” Raven said, removing the hair tie that held her long braids in a bun.
The many hours she’d worked that week were starting to settle across her body. Plus, while Gwen wouldn’t mind her tagging along, Raven couldn’t imagine her friend’s boyfriend would be happy with her crashing date night.
“I’m gonna get home, eat whatever least healthy snack my mom has in the pantry, and call it a day,” Raven said.
Tomorrow had to be better, certainly.
* * *
A tune, one of the standards the jazz band played at the party the night before, was stuck in Raven’s head. She sat cross-legged on her yoga mat with her eyes closed, trying desperately to quiet her mind long enough to meditate. But the silly little notes persisted for a while.
When her brain finally released them, she was promptly seized by thoughts of the bedroom she currently occupied. How small it was. How most of her earthly possessions sat in boxes surrounding her. It didn’t take long to feel like the walls were closing in, and at that point, she gave up on her morning ritual altogether.
She threw on her robe and followed the whine of the blender downstairs to the kitchen where her mother, in a short slip dress and flexi rods in her hair, was blitzing a smoothie.
Raven and her mom were two peas in a pod. They’d been getting confused for sisters since Raven was a teen. They were both air signs, tall, and lovers of accessories.
The only immediately obvious difference between them was their body types. Where her mom was slender from a steadfast Pilates regime, Raven had a fuller figure that made wearing the short skirts she preferred an extreme sport.
“Tell me what you think,” her mother said, handing her a glass of grayish-green sludge.
Raven took a tentative sip. “Earthy.”
She traded the drink for an apple and headed to the breakfast nook, scooping up her mother’s cat from the hardwood floor.
“Morning, GoGo,” she whispered, peppering the feline’s neck with kisses.
“I didn’t expect to find you home when I got in last night,” her mother said, joining her at the table with her smoothie and a store-bought loaf cake to share.
“Got fired over some bullshit.”
“That’s annoying. I’m sorry,” her mother said.
“At least I don’t have to wear that scratchy uniform again.”
“Always you with the bright side,” her mom said with some humor.
“How was your evening? How’s Bob?” Raven asked while cutting into the cake and plopping a slice on each of their plates.
“Calvin,” her mother corrected.
“Calvin, sorry.”
For as long as Raven had been dating, she and her mom called every guy they were seeing but weren’t serious about Bob. If the men turned out to be worth a damn, they’d graduate to being referred to by their actual names in conversation.
