29
Jess
Two monthslater
With the band on the road, the house is quiet and empty. But Sean was right. I needed time. I need the space. I don’t worry about him because he’s not here, and that gives me room to better myself without judgment or expectation. I started the summer with a lofty to-do list, but I’m making a huge dent init.
Before he left, Sean connected me with one of the Off Track Records lawyers. They were able to expedite the process of obtaining my legal documentation. After all the years of having none, it was almost too much to hope for. With my birth certificate and social security card in hand, I’m finally able to make an honest and good life. Get a job. Hopefully, someday, go tocollege.
During the process I requested my foster care case record. I wasn’t sure what I would unearth, if anything at all, but I needed to know what happened the day I ran away. I needed to make peace with my past, even if it meant I’d have to face further consequences. But the fire Amo set hadn’t killed anyone. All these years I stayed away in fear of being blamed for arson, or worse, murder. A guilt I hadn’t even realized I held tight lifted the minute I discovered everyone had survived. I could finally moveon.
Next was working toward my GED. Deb helped me find an accelerated prep class at the community college, and enrolling there felt like a huge milestone. It was scary navigating the bus system all on my own, but also exhilarating. For the first time in forever I was doing something big for no one other thanmyself.
Sean set me up with a checking account and credit card before he went on the road. I didn’t want to accept his gift. I wanted a fresh start. I hope that someday we might be able to have a healthy, non-codependent relationship, and I didn’t see how taking his money would be a good building block to that. I finally accepted his generous offer, but only after he conceded to my terms. I promised to pay him back, penny for penny, for whatever amount Iuse.
Which I fully intend todo.
Next, I found atherapist.
The idea of being indebted to someone else, even Sean, is enough to churn my stomach and bring on anxiety. It’s something I’m working through in my counseling sessions. It’s also difficult for me to understand why he would want to give me so much when I’ve given him so little. But she’s helping me realize that this tally system I’ve operated within is not how people who love each otherbehave.
And I love Sean. I’m scared as hell to say the words aloud, but with every fiber of my being I know it’s true. That alone is motivation enough for me to get my life in order before hereturns.
The band has a tour break scheduled just a few weeks from now and I cannot wait to see him again. Sure, he’s offered to fly me out to catch a show before then. To meet them in some town and spend a night or two together before the band rolls onto the next stop, but I don’t want to be another groupie, or some girl along for the free ride. He said he would wait for me, and I believe him. Besides, we’ve made it through two months already, I can make it a little longer. Our reunion seems the perfect way to conclude the best summer of mylife.
Today after class I hop on the bus, but instead of taking it home, I catch an earlier stop and transfer toward Beverly Hills. I’m in the mood to celebrate after passing another practice test. Window shopping is the perfect end to another perfect day. I won’t buy anything, but the high end boutiques here on Rodeo are filled with the exact products I hope to one daydesign.
Shoes, bags, accessories, and clothing—my gaze drinks up each signature touch. I stroll from window to window, entranced by the textures, colors, and fits. I stop as a gown catches myattention.
Ooff!“Oh, my God!” a woman exclaims as she tumbles into my back and sends me stumbling forward a step. “I’m so sorry!”She reaches out to catch me before I slam against theglass.
“It’s fine.” I straighten and turn to meet herstare.
“It’s totally not fine. I’m so sorry!” Her head bobs and hair swishes from where it’s pulled back into a high ponytail. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking and that was so rude. I could have knocked you over!” She looks familiar, as if I’ve maybe met her before but my mind can’t placeher.
“Injury by window shopping. It’s not the worst thing to happen.” I shrug and laugh in an attempt to settle her worries. I know people can be uptight, but she didn’t careen into me onpurpose.
“Oh, my God, you are too sweet. I still feel horrible.” She glances at the window. “What were you lookingat?”
“Oh, um . . .” I glance around and notice several people have gathered at a distance, some taking their phones out as if they’re snapping pictures or recording us. “Everything really, but that gown is stunning. I’ve never seen beading like that on gray cotton. It almost has a street-couturefeel.”
“You’re a designer?” Her gaze lights up and her smile lifts with her brows. “I have to introduce you.” She doesn’t wait for my response, hooking her arm in mine and pulling me toward the door. “Paula and I go way back. She’samazing!”
“Oh, I’m not a designer. Notyet.”
“Even better.” She drops my arm to step inside, her smile pulling wide with her pink painted lips. That’s when it hits me where I’ve seen her. Cora Bentley. She’s America’s sweetheart. Blockbuster films. Hit television shows. She’s done it all. Her face is plastered on all my favoritemagazines.
“Cora!”
“Paula!” She turns to greet the woman with a kiss to each cheek. “I have someone I’d like you to meet. She’s an up and comingdesigner.”
“Aspiring,” I quickly clarify. “Jessica Moore. It’s so nice to meetyou.”
“She called your piece in the window street-couture.” Cora raises abrow.
“That’s exactly what I was going for!” Paula presses her hand into her chest before holding it out to me. “So nice to meet you, Jessica. Thanks for stopping by the store. Do you live aroundhere?”
“I just got out of class, actually, but not too far fromhere.”
