What was her name? What was her deal? Where had she come from? And why couldn’t Cherry get her out of her head? Her kind eyes. Warm smile. Those legs. God…those legs…There was something about her…something magnetic. Pulling her attention.
Before she could analyze it any longer, the front door opened, and Shea burst in like somebody had shoved her. That’s how she entered any room. Quick, loud, a burst of energy.
“You better not have watchedThe L Wordyet,” she said in greeting, pointing a prematurely accusatory finger at her.
Cherry held her own finger to her lips, then pointed in the direction of Adam’s room.
“He gotta drive tonight?” Shea asked, her voice considerably lower.
Cherry nodded. “And I haven’t watched. I waited for you, as promised.”
“Cool. Gimme five.” Shea headed to her bedroom.
Cherry pulled out her phone and scanned her socials, looking at likes and reading comments. She got a very mixed bag as far as comments. Lots of praise from others in the LGBTQIA+ community. Bible verses and scripture quoting from religious fanatics. Then there were the trolls. The ones who told her she was fat or ugly or untalented. Or worse, the gross sexual things they’d like to do to her. She liked to picture them as pasty, greasy-haired twentysomethings living in their parents’ basements and playingCall of Dutyall day long, fingers stained orange with Dorito powder, completely unfamiliar with things like fresh air and sunshine. As Shea returned with two cans of Red Bull and a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips and dropped down onto the couch next to her, Cherry laughed. “This guy says I’m ano-talent useless flesh bagand I should stick to doing the things I was meant to do like cooking and cleaning.” She made air quotes around his words.
Shea shook her head as she popped a can open. “God, people are just assholes. I don’t know how that stuff doesn’t bother you.”
Cherry shrugged. “I checked. He’s taking the time to write me shitty comments,andhe’s following me. That counts.”
“Girl, you’ve got way thicker skin than I do. Props to you.” She lifted her can in a salute.
“Please.” Cherry gave a snort. Her childhood had given her that thick skin, not that she’d wish it on anybody. “You’re sweet and sensitive, and that’s better any day. Ready?” She held up the remote and tipped her head in question.
“Go,” Shea said and ripped open the bag. As the show began, she said, “Speaking of props, I don’t care that Jennifer Beals is almost the same age as my mom. I’d date her.”
“Oh my God, same,” Cherry said, grabbing a handful of chips. “So much same.”
Chapter Three
“How are things?” Aunt Tracey asked her standard question as Ellis cooked an omelet. Her phone was propped up against the butter container, her aunt’s smiling face taking up the screen in a FaceTime call.
“They’re good. I started a new job this week.” Ellis stirred the mushrooms as they sautéed in the pan.
“You left the diner?” Tracey’s surprise was clear.
“No, no. I started a second job. It’s writing, so in my field, sort of.” Ellis grinned at the phone, trying to alleviate the concern she could see on her aunt’s face, even over the small screen.
“Do you need two jobs?” Tracey’s worry was quiet, the way she did everything. She and Ellis’s father were siblings, and it wasn’t until Ellis’s dad was gone that she’d started to notice just how much he and his sister were alike. “The life insurance should be covering things, right?”
“It does.” More smiling because the last thing she wanted was her aunt to be stressing from a state away. “But I like to make sure Mikey has nice things, you know? The better lotion. Nice shampoo. Comfy pajamas.” She opened the egg carton as she added, “Yes, I hear myself. I know that stuff probably doesn’t matter to her, but…” She shrugged, and her aunt picked up the rest of the sentence.
“It matters to you. I understand that, sweetie. I just don’t want you working yourself ragged for things you don’t need to work yourself ragged for. You know?”
Nodding. Because the lump in her throat wouldn’t let her form words. She cracked the eggs into a bowl and whisked them with a fork,using the sound as an excuse not to speak for a moment. Just as she’d pulled herself together and poured the eggs into the pan, Tracey spoke again.
“I wish you’d come visit. Take some time. Come see me. Give yourself a break.”
She asked nearly every time they spoke, which was at least once a week. And she was only in Cleveland. Not that far. A day’s drive. Again, she was quiet, firm but never pushy, her light eyes so like her brother’s. And Ellis gave her the same answer she always did. “I know. I will. I definitely will. Just need to figure out logistics.”
“Sweetie, Michaela will be fine if you don’t visit her for a few days. You know that, right?”
Would she, though?
“That’s why she’s where she is. So she’s taken care of, and you can have a life.”
It wasn’t a new discussion, not by a long shot. Ellis nodded at the words—she always did. “I know.” And she did know. She absolutely did.
“Okay. Well.” Tracey gave up. She always did because Ellis gave her no choice. “You know I’m here, and you’re welcome anytime.”
