Page 78 of Eye Candy

“It’s not Mars, Lyss. I can hear you fine.”

Lyssa laughed. I could just picture her tossing her head back, masses of hair tumbling around her. Everyone in the café could hear her too. New Zealanders never enunciated anything, so an accent like Lyssa’s carried. Plus, she projected.

“I had to add so many weird numbers to call you!”

On hearing this, Monica tipped her eyes at Tanz. My Summer Smile became a depths-of-winter smile. I didn’t enjoy Monica at the best of times, and having her witness one of the lowest periods of my life felt especially cruel.

“Care Bear,” Lyssa started, “I need to tell you stuff, but can we do this call on FaceTime? And can you go outside into some nice scenery? I need a screenshot so I can show my followers the backdrop to my long-distance best-friendship.”

I wanted Lyssa to ask after my crushed spirit, my brokenheart, or my wounded pride. Instead, she wanted to mine our relationship for content. Again.

“Care, are you there?—?”

I cracked.

“Lyssa, for the last time, it’s Caroline. I keep telling you, and you keep ignoring me. Caroline. Like Sweet, like Bancroft.Caroline.You were one of the few people in New York who knew my real name and you never said it.”

There was quiet at the end of the line. I felt bad for snapping. But also… no one should have to fight so hard just for their loved ones to say their name. It was a basic human right.

Lyssa broke the silence by saying quietly, “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve told you so many times, Lyssa.”

“I… I’m really sorry, Caroline. I thought it was cute to have a pet name only I called you. I thought of it like an exclusive friendship thing. Like a secret handshake. But better.”

I thought of how Chase called me Floss, how much warmth he loaded into it and how it made me smile.

“I want you to call me Caroline.” I thought about it. “But you can add cutesy nicknames after, if you want. That can be our special thing.”

“Yes! I love this for us, Caroline, my plucky honey badger.”

“You got it, Lyssa, sweet sugar plum.”

She laughed her big laugh, which let me know she’d forgiven me for snapping. “I love you, Caroline.”

“I love you too.”

I wanted to talk more, to hear about the stuff she had to say, and yes, to go find my phone so she could get her screenshot, but I had to say an abrupt goodbye, because Ghost, my cousin’s dog, pushed through the door and bounded into the café.

I told Lyssa I had to call her back.

“Read Chase’s blog!” she shouted just before I jammed the phone in the cradle.

Ghost was darting between the tables and barking excitedly, and Monica’s stroller-bound kid had a tomato sauce bottle andwas squealing with glee as they aimed it at Ghost. Luckily, Tanz grabbed the dog by the collar and the kid fumbled the bottle, so we narrowly avoided sauce walls for the second time this week.

“I’ll take Ghost over to your dad’s house!” Tanz called, pulling a leash from somewhere in her stroller. “Looks like Dean and Hannah have called in.” Tanz clipped the lead on the collie’s collar next to the engraved tag that read “sorry 4 what I broke/ate” and had Dean’s number on the other side. “Back in five!” she said, towing him out the door.

“Can I get some more sauce?” Simon called from his usual table by the front door, wiggling the empty tomato bottle.

I got Simon his sauce, and then I cleaned the panini Mon’s kid had thrown on the floor and wiped their tables when they all left. Half of me wanted to hurry the cleaning to go and see Hannah and Dean. The other half wanted to slow down and delay the moment my cousin would ask why I was back from New York. Hannah was a sweetheart, but she was notorious for lying to spare people’s feelings—like those of her awful ex-husband—and I didn’t think I could handle her telling me that I hadn’t tanked everything and would somehow find a way to build the career of my dreams.

The thought made me even more blue, which I wouldn’t have thought possible. As I wiped tables, I reflected on my best show in Stockholm, where I was billed with performers who’d headlined Vegas. While I made coffees and fluffies for mums and kids in the school pickup rush, I thought about the black and white party, and Jessica, who had offered me a real job in Toronto. I thought and waved to the last customer of the day. Thought and tallied the till. Thought and cleaned the coffee machine.

My desire to delay Hannah’s well-meaning lies was so strong, and the preoccupation so intense, my brain completely skipped a track, and I forgot to call Lyssa back or read Chase’s blog.

I’d just thrown a load of tea towels in the wash when the doorbell tinkled.

“Sorry, we’re clo— Dad! What are you doing on your feet!”

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