“I don’t go to the grocery store. I just order everything online and it’s brought straight to my door.” It’s possibly the greatest service ever invented, at least where the single working mom life is concerned.
“God,” she groans, dragging herself out of my closet to dramatically flop onto my bed, which I notice now, I have yet to make. “It’s no wonder you’re single. How do you ever expect to meet someone if you never leave the fucking house? In real clothes?” She swats at the cushions behind her. “Not to mention this thing you call a bed. You’re a grown woman sleeping on a fucking sofa, Kenley. There’s hardly enough room on here for you to sleep on, let alone a second person.”
I resent that. “It fits two people,” I insist. “The other night, Sloan saw a spider crawl under her bed at three in the morning and came in here to sleep. It worked.” Not well. And I sort of ended up on the floor at one point. But still. “Besides, my old bed didn’t fit in here and getting a new twin-sized bed requires money. Plus, I already had the sofa.” Then I remember her snide comment about my lack of sleepovers. “And also, I’ll have youknow, I am currently involved in what may well be the healthiest relationship with a male I’ve ever had in my life.”
Instantly, she perks up. “You have a man, and you didn’t tell me?”
“Sort of.” This isn’t going to end in my favor. I don’t know why I even brought it up. “His name is Andres. He’s my favorite Instacart shopper.”
Her face falls straight into my pillow and more groans along with long, drawn-out ‘Gaaaawwwd’s and ‘what the fuck’s ensue.
“I’m serious, Arizona.” I sit down beside her attempting to defend my very pathetic but very real position. “He’s so freaking wonderful. He totally knows what I like. When the store is out of something, he always checks with an employee to see if they have more in the back, and when they don’t, he gets the perfect substitutes. Plus, the entire time, he communicates everything that’s going on with me. I feel more heard and taken care of by him than I ever did the entire time I was with Ebenezer.”
Arizona surfaces from my pillow. “Holy fuck. I don’t even know which one of you comes off worse in that statement. You or your ex-husband.”
“Um, the answer isalwaysEbenezer.” I’m not usually catty about my ex, but that shit’s written into a best friend friendship. You get to be judgey as all hell and never be judged. Those are the rules.
“Fine. It’s him. You’re just a little sad.” She pats my head in the most condescending way possible. “But that’s okay. We can fix you.”
“I don’t need fixing.”
“Well, your wardrobe sure as shit does if you plan to go to this concert with me tonight.” She scoots herself off the bed until she’s standing again. “Because I ain’t takin’ you in your pajamas.”
I roll my eyes. “Obviously.”
“How is that obvious? I spent ten minutes searching your closet. All you have in there are three oversized sweaters and two fancy dresses too fancy for tonight, possibly ever in real life. Not to mention, an endless supply of tee shirts you obviously sleep in,” she pauses her rant to make a face at me.
“I have high hopes of getting fancy someday. And we get winter here. I need those sweaters.”
She shakes her head. “Three days of temps in the thirties does not constitute winter.” Then she goes back to her spiel about the contents of my closet, “Though I suppose if you’re not wearing anything under those big-ass sweaters, you might get use out of them. That bridesmaid’s gown from your cousin’s wedding three years ago, probably not so much though. And the only pair of jeans in here look like they might disintegrate at any second, so wearing them is probably out too.”
“Those aren’t for wearing. Those are for confidence boosting.”
She frowns. “Enlighten me.”
“I bought them my senior year in high school. Whenever I’m having a bad day, I come in here and put them on and have myself a little ‘I’ve still got it’ moment.” I shrug. “It’s nice.”
“That’s actually a totally acceptable explanation,” she concedes. “But it still doesn’t leave you with anything suitable to wear tonight.”
“You only think that because you’re looking in the wrong closet,” I inform her.
“You don’t have another closet,” Arizona points out even as she scans my room.
“I do,” I confirm my previous statement. “In my office.”
Her brow crinkles and I think the long drive must be catching up to her. She doesn’t usually get this frazzled talking to me. “I thought that closet is used for storing all your holiday shit. Lasttime I was here I nearly wound up strangled to death by your Christmas lights all because I was looking for extra towels.”
I get up from the bed as well and start for the door. “It is,” I explain as I tug at her wrist to drag her along to the other room. “On the right. The entire left side is reserved for clothes. Clothes I love and hope to wear someday.” I turn back to smirk at her over my shoulder. “Hey, maybe today is someday!”
I can hear Arizona let out a frustrated huff behind me. “Why didn’t you open with that when this whole conversation started?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure I was listening then,” I admit, “My head’s still replaying the words ‘We’re going to see Knox Marley’ on a loop. Hard to hear much else.” I point at the closet now that we’re in front of it. The left side. “Go ahead. See what you’re working with. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
She makes a face, rubbing her palms together in preparation of diving in. “After the horrors in your bedroom closet, I could find nothing but yoga pants and tank tops in here and be pleasantly surprised,” she remarks dryly. Then she stops glaring at me and starts flipping through the hangers. “Oh, hey! Girl, you got some nice stuff!”
“I know. I told you. I just lack nice places to go in them.” I pull down one of the bins I keep on the top shelf and direct her to its contents, “Look, I have nice shoes, too!”
Arizona claps her hands like she’s giving me a mini round of applause, eyes bulging with wicked excitement. “We can definitely work with this.”
