Page 10 of Everything's Coming Up Rosie

Marnie levels my gaze. “Unless you don’t want to get married and have kids, which is a totally cool choice too.”

“How am I still the center of this conversation?” I ask.

“You’re the most interesting.” Marnie shrugs.

“I promise you I’m not.”

I point at Marnie. “New job.”

I point at Taylor. “Brunching for two. Maybe three, who knows.”

She snorts and tosses a piece of bread at me.

I point at Maya. “Shacking up with a mayor.”

Taylor snorts again as the other two shake their heads at me.

“You’re living inNew York, Rosie,” Maya says. “It may as well be another planet. We all still live here.”

“Not for long.” Marnie tips her glass at us and sips her drink through a smile.

Maya sulks. “I always thought I’d be the one to get out of here.”

“If you marry the mayor, you could be here forever.” Taylor takes a sip of her tomato juice because apparently she had a craving.

I turn to Marnie, hoping that this will be an acceptable change of subject. “When do you move?”

“She moves in two weeks,” Maya says. “We know all of Marnie’s news. You are the mystery.”

So much for that plan.

“Agree,” Taylor says, then adds, “no offense, Marnie.”

Marnie holds up a dismissive hand as Taylor turns back to me, talking with her hands: “We want to hear about your big, amazing life. We definitely want to come see one of your shows—anything you’re in, really—but the only time we hear about them is from your mom.”

“After they’re over.” Marnie picks up a mini muffin from a basket at the center of the table. “I can’t keep doing this no-carb thing. It’s killing me. Can I... just...” She takes two more muffins.

“Carbs are amazing.” Maya picks up a muffin and shoves the whole thing in her mouth. She practically moans as she chews, so loudly she draws attention from an elderly woman at the next table. She grins at her. “It’s so good!”

The woman frowns and turns away. I smile to discover there is still a trace of the Maya I knew in this well-manicured, pristine package.

Marnie pushes the muffins away and takes a sip of her mimosa. I pause to admire her for a second. She’s dressed in all black with black sunglasses propped on top of her head, perfectly straight, shiny brown hair cut into a very professional shoulder-length bob. She looks like a reporter.

“Rosie, what is going on with you?” Taylor asks. “I find out all your updates from social media. Do you even read our group chat anymore?”

“Of course I do,” I say. “I just don’t text in there because...”I stop myself from saying, “Because I have zero news and my life sucks,” and instead complete the thought with, “Because sometimes the updates just aren’t that exciting. You know, little things. Not thereallybig thing.”

“Yet,” Marnie says.

Yeah,I think. Yetwill forever be tomorrow or next week or next month.

Or never.

“I won’t lie,” I say, knowing that’s all I’m doing. “It’s not easy. Lots of auditioning and waiting. Lots of prepping and preparing and recording and refreshing your email. It’s just not, you know, exciting all the time.”

My updates would be things like:“Got a temp job in an office. I’ll be here three days, which is, apparently, long enough for me to spill coffee on three different people and screw up the bagel order for the entire office.”

Nobody wants to hear these kinds of things. I’d be the lead in a new play calledHead Above Water: Barely.

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