Page 90 of Fairy Godmothers Aren't Cheap

“I was planning to quit anyway.”

“But you just spent all that money on the Corsica trip.”

“It’s fine.” And it actually was. I had some savings. I wasn’t going to miss the security work, especially now that I didn’t need the museum as my wingman, making it possible to bump into Char.

I could call her.

Text her.

Probably even pop by. Especially if I had a strawberry milkshake from Peter’s.

Although maybe I wasn’t welcome. She was giving off weird signals. Did she blame me for the warehouse seizure? Or was she just generally down and out at the moment, the wind knocked out of her sails, and one of those types that curled inward when stuff hit the fan?

“Are you looking to become a cartographer?” she asked.

“It might be fun.”

She let out a surprised burst of laughter, and it felt good to knock her perception of me.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“What?”

“You take classes for fun, don’t you?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“What?”

“I can hear you thinking.” The same as everyone else. “I need a career. I should know what to do with my life by now and finish the things I start. Make up my mind already. I’m wasting time, money and talent. And for what? Don’t I know who am I? Do I have ADHD or what?”

Personally, I preferred my parents’ take. They’d said I had a wild streak of curiosity and had a hunger for knowledge.

My grade six teacher had explained it as having ants in my pants.

I stopped talking, realizing I’d basically confessed some of my worst fears about myself to Char.

“People think I’m a flake because I like temping,” Char said quietly. “Because I like being somewhere new every few weeks.”

We were silent for a long moment, as though deciding what to do with each other.

The lightness of our usual conversations wasn’t with us tonight, but I didn’t mind. I felt as though I was letting Char in and vice versa, like the barrier of talking without seeing each other freed us somehow.

“My parents…” Char said hesitantly, and I tightened my grip on my phone so I didn’t accidentally drop it and miss whatever she was about to say. “They never really…I don’t know. Lived. Especially my dad.”

I stood, unable to sit. I paced the room.

“My mom was pretty checked out when I was a preteen. She’d only cook if Dad was home. The rest of the time she just sat in front of the TV until she met Damon.”

“Who’s that?”

“Stepdad.”

“They weren’t happy together? Your mom and dad?” I imagined fighting, yelling matches, tearing up a young, sensitive Char.

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