Page 18 of Sort of Seeing Someone

“It’s aromatherapy,Moonie. You’ve got a lot to learn about howhealingrituals like this can be. Also, it’s Friday the 13th. What are you doing to celebrate?”

“Probably ordering pizza.”

Gerdarolls her eyes.

“What time is it?” she asks.

“I can tell you, but I have to check my phone again, and you know what that means.Toxic radiation,” I whisper.

“Do any young people own a watch anymore—andnotthe kind that reads your text messages for you?” she asks.

Without one on her wrist, I guess no old people own one either.

“It’s 3:30,” I say.

“Oof. It’s getting late,” she comments. My prediction that she’d turn into a pumpkin come 4pm was right. “Oceanhurst, here I come.”

I take a long, hard look at Gerda Germain—who somehow manages to exude excitement for the future through her uncertainty and fear. It is not lost on me that I need to channel some of that energy in a big way.

Gerda slides her chair out. This time, I’m convinced the sound registers on the Richter scale.

“Til we meet again,” she says, putting out her warm, wrinkled hands. I’m not sure if she’s asking for a double handshake, or to be pulled in for a hug. Either way I extend my hands her way and our palms connect. I am relieved to see nothing when they do.

Maybe Esther was just fucking with me after all.

.

6

Chapter Six

It doesn’t take long to pack up 350 square feet, especially when the space was rented fully furnished and the landlord decides last minute that she’s cutting all ties with everything about the place. “Let the developer deal with it,” she instructed of the floral furniture from the ’70s. Let’s hope she doesn’t change her mind.

Even though she told me not to worry about it before she headed to Oceanhurst, I decided to try my hand at listing some stuff on Facebook Marketplace. I priced everything to sell and in a matter of minutes, it went with an enviable ease. OB residents want their beach shacks decorated like beach shacks. This is so not the land of Room & Board. Even though it’s rather bare in here now, I was able to scrap together a few hundred dollars, which is about how much it cost to ship my minimal belongings back to Nora’s 60657 zip code in a slew of filled-to-the-brim flat rate boxes.

As the last box gets stamped and stickered at the OB post office just before they close for the day (fun fact: it’s the number-one ranked location for customer service in North America), it feels final. There is no turning back. In other words, my period is due in four days and my tampons are en route to the Midwest, so I better be, too.

Now that everything is packed, there are only two things I really need to get through my last night in OB: toothpaste and a bottle of wine. I’ve got eyes on my tube of Crest and Yasmin is on her way over with some vino as I pressorderon DoorDash pizza delivery.

A few minutes later, two headlights shine into my living room from the driveway. Postmates—aka my dear friend, Yasmin in her equally-as-adorable MINI Cooper—is here to help see me off.

“Does Gordon know you dress like this when he’s out of town?” I ask as she walks through the door looking stunning in a strapless yellow maxi dress.

“Good evening to you as well,” Yasmin responds. “I come bearing gifts.”

She holds up two bottles of wine and immediately I remember I sold my wine glasses. And the corkscrew.

Yasmin brings her trusty oversized bag into frame and begins to dig around.

“Don’t worry. As soon as you mentioned you were leaving tomorrow morning—which by the way was acompleteshock to me—I brought the essentials just in case.”

At that, she procures a wine opener and two stacked, red Solo cups. It’s been way too long since I’ve drank alcohol out of a plastic cup. I’m excited!

“I can’t believe you thought to bring all this,” I say, genuinely impressed.

“I’m a sommelier, Moonie. These things are floating around in my car at all times. Plus, I’m ten years older than you. I know what to bring to a Girls’ Night. You think you’re the first girlfriend of mine who got dumped, lost her job, and had to head home to Mom and Dad’s and start over?”

“I’mstaying with my sister—not my parents—thankyouverymuch.”

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