Page 78 of Please Don't Leave Me

We finish up and put our robes on to walk to our next treatment, which I believe is pedicures. An employee walks us through some hallways until we get to a set of frosted glass doors leading to the nail salon.

They sit us next to each other and bring us drinks.

I take a sip of my mimosa and look over at B. “This is really great, B. Thank you.”

She reaches her glass over and clinks it against mine. “Anything for you, my darling.”

“Anything?” I raise my eyebrows in question.

“Nope, I take that back.Almostanything.”

“Where are we going out tonight?”

“I thought it would be fun to go to that club we went to for Iris’s 21st. Except this time, I’m not leaving you alone with strange men until I vet them myself.”

“Sounds good to me.” I laugh and take another sip of my drink.

B tells me all about her trip to Paris, how she met a girl there and they spent three straight days together. The girl even went with B to gallery viewings for work.

I don’t get how she can fully embrace a romance like that for such a short time, then leave and be just fine. Some part of me would always be sad and wonder what could have been. But not B; she seems entirely unfazed.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“How are you so into people one minute and then are able to just move past it the next.”

“Because I’m a heartless bitch.” She says it a little too loud, and people turn their heads to look at us. “Sorry,” she whispers.

I roll my eyes at her. “No seriously, B. How?”

She adjusts in her seat, careful not to move her feet and mess up the nail tech. “I guess I always just go into things knowing they won’t last. I live in the moment and enjoy the time I have with each person, and then I move on because I knew that’s what the ending would be. Does that make sense?”

“But what happens when you meet the person you’re supposed to be with?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been ready for or wanted that. I guess when my circumstances change, I’ll have to change my mindset along with it.”

I lean back in my big chair and watch the tech work on my nails, thinking about what B just said.

I’m really glad that works for her, but I’m not sure where I’m at in life or what I want. For so long, there wasn’t a difference between what people expected me to do and what I actually wanted to do. I guess a good place to start is figuring that out first.

We sit in silence for a while, and I almost fall asleep.

Someone taps my legs. “You’re all done, Ms. Blake.”

I sit up straighter and blink the sleep out of my eyes. Once they clear, I look down at my soft pink toenails. “They look great, thank you so much.”

I turn to B, who is also finished. “What’s next?”

“Manicures, of course. You can’t get the paws done and not the claws.”

“You’re so extra.”

A spa employee walks us to the front of the room, where all the tables are set up for manicures, and we take seats next to each other. Then, we discuss what color and shape we want with each of our nail techs.

B chooses ballerina-shaped black nails, and I choose almond-shaped, the same soft pink to match my toes.

B leans over to see what I chose. “You’re so predictable.”

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