Page 16 of Love Off Course

Harden my heart.

It takes a few minutes of breathing calmly to chase away the chaos brewing inside me. This isn’t the first shitty situation I’ve been thrust in, and it certainly won’t be the last.

“Sherrie-dan? Are you okay in there?” Estefania asks, tapping on the door with her fingernail.

A bloom of warmth in my chest sends a ripple of shock through me. I hadn’t expected for her to stick up for me earlier. But she did. I’ve been nothing but a bitch, and the girl still tried.

In another life, I could be friends with a girl like Estefania. Maybe the me before Momma got sick. The one who caught fireflies in the backyard, climbed trees, and would stare up into the sky and try to count the stars. Before all the heartache and pain, I was a free spirit.

“I’m fine,” I say, my voice gruff from emotion. “I’ll be even better if I can catch a signal to call my dad.”

With a heavy sigh, I open the bathroom door. Estefania has changed into a floral maxi dress that looks incredibly comfortable. She’s pulled all of her golden-brown locks up and piled them on top of her head in a messy but lovely looking way.

“You look pretty.”

Her eyes widen. “Me?”

“Who else would I be talking to?”

“I did not think you liked me,” she replies in a quiet voice. Then, her features brighten. “You will now, Sherrie-dan. I found a phone for you and it works!”

My heart stammers in my chest. “W-What? Where?”

She grabs my hand and pulls me over to the bed. Sure enough, an old phone circa 1987 sits on the end table between the two beds. It’s yellowed from age, but is lit up, indicating it’s working.

We sit down and I snag the receiver before mashing the buttons for Dad’s cell number. It rings and rings before going to voicemail.

“Daddy, it’s me. I’m stuck in…”

“Mexico,” Estefania offers.

“I’m stuck in Mexico. We had to stop because of the incoming hurricane. I can get you the information, just please, Daddy…send me a plane. I need to get out of here.” My eyes water despite just calming myself down. “I, uh, call me back at…”

Estefania points to the number on the phone.

After rambling out the number, I hang up.

“When Daddy sends the plane, you can come with me if you want. I know you’re going to Costa Rica—back home. I could take you with me,” I offer, feeling strange about being nice. I’m known for a lot of things, but nice isn’t usually one of them.

Her nose scrunches and she messes with the fabric on her dress. “I like it here.”

This makes me recoil. “What? Here? In this shithole hotel?”

“I like it here because it is peaceful,” she says. “No mobs.”

Mobs?

“I don’t follow,” I say with a frown.

“I just wanted to sing like the big stars on television. But”—she shrugs—“no one told me it was so lonely. All those people. So many people. They nearly run you over for autographs. But how many simply want to have a cup of coffee and talk?”

“I see…” Though I don’t. Not this. “I?—”

We’re interrupted by a rapping on the door.

“Hotel hospitality,” an accented voice says.

I bound from the bed and rush over to the door. When I swing it open, a short woman with jet-black hair and piercing brown eyes smiles at me.

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