Page 85 of Hero Hair
Chapter Twenty-Five
Teala
“I got what I wanted for it. I had to let it go,” I tell Charlotte.
The housing market is finally back up after the slump, and my apartment sold in record time. It made the most sense to move into Macs’ house because it has more space. Saying goodbye to this place is hard. I grew up as an adult here, found myself, lost myself, and put the pieces back together in between these walls. It’s seen more than its share of men, and fights, and ups and downs.
“The realtors will be here soon. Ready to roll?” I ask, gazing out the window. I watch the figures move in the building across the way and wonder how much of my life they’ve seen. What do they know from the glimpses they’ve seen inside my world?
Charlotte sighs. “It does have the best view. I’ll miss this place.”
She’s here helping me with the last few small boxes. Macs asked if I could stay away for the afternoon because he was working on built-in shelves in the living room. His friends are there, and beer is involved, and that was enough to keep me away without asking another question.
“My new place has an awesome view too,” I remind her, spinning on my heel to face her.
She scowls as she picks up her handbag from the counter. “Yeah, because you live with a fucking GQ model, you bitch. God, what must it be like to sleep next to that every night? Do you hump his leg when you aren’t actually humping? I would.” Charlotte is bitter because her most recent boyfriend broke up with her.
After a quick peek down the dark hallway, I follow her out into the hall. “I don’t look at it that way anymore,” I explain.
She hits the down button to call the elevator. “Look at it how? Please tell me you know how lucky you are, Teala. Don’t be that dumb bitch who feigns ignorance about her status in life.”
I cackle. “You’re so wrong. I know exactly what I have and I remember what I had to go through to keep it.”
Charlotte looks down at her shoes and apologizes quickly. Everyone forgets how bad of a time I had for a while. I hid it well and most were surprised when I told them the extent of my problems. It was easily hidden because everyone was dealing with his or her own terrible shit at the same awful time. Charlotte lost an aunt and a cousin in the attacks. Jasmine lost two friends, both in separate cities, but in the wrong place at the wrong time. Carina got lucky and narrowly escaped with her life in a bombing at the food court of our favorite mall. My anxiety wasn’t something anyone else should have to worry about given our current circumstances. I would never fault them for not being there for me. The thought brings me back to that day and my stomach flips.
The elevator pings open to the garage and we silently make our way to my car. It’s an unspoken rule about silence in parking garages now. It’s another reason I was okay with leaving this place. I don’t feel as safe as I used to. Things and places are tinged with grief and marred by the security stolen from right under our noses.
“We should go shopping for clothes or something,” Charlotte remarks.
The engine purrs as I pull out into the sunshine of a perfect San Diego day. Agreeing with Charlotte is easy. We have an afternoon to kill. I dial my mom and a comforting peace surrounds me when her voice sweeps the car speakers.
“Honey. How are you?” she asks.
“I’m good. Charlotte and I are heading to the mall to shop. Did you want me to see if I can find that top for you in a medium?”
The last time we went to her favorite store, they were out of stock. I’ve tried to tone down my needy habits with regard to calling and seeing my mother more than I should, but I do what makes me happy. Dr. Rhodes didn’t think my relationship with my mother was unhealthy, per se, but he did mention I might rely on her emotionally too much. In light of all my recent self-discoveries I can say he’s probably right.
Macs gets the weight of my emotions these days. They’re heavy and full, and everything I’ve ever dreamed of.
“No, no. Don’t worry about me. Find something nice for yourself. I have a date tonight,” Mom says, her voice lilting in excitement.
Charlotte whoops and I giggle uncontrollably before we give her congratulations and ask if she wants any advice. Viola switches that conversation quickly, in no hurry to talk about men with her daughter. She should know I’m probably the only person with experience enough to give her advice on sex.
We say our goodbyes, and Charlotte starts in on a conversation about Smith and Carina and their impending baby. She says she feels left out because she’s not making babies with a big, throbbing SEAL. Even though I tell her, all the time, she should probably find a man with a normal career and schedule, there’s no talking sense into people on the outside. It looks glamorous and dangerous. It’s shrouded in secrecy and no one else really knows the truth unless they live it and breathe it. SEALs are hot.
We shop and buy things we don’t need, and drink coffee that winds us up, and we enjoy the easy afternoon. Our conversations are light and breezy and the normalcy of it all hits me at once.
“I haven’t thought about the attacks today,” I admit. I think I blush, ashamed to admit such a horrible thing.
She shrugs. “I haven’t either.”
We both glance over at the food court across the way and take a moment to remember the beginning of a new life chapter. It wasn’t just a new chapter for us. It was a new chapter for the entire world. Macs texts me a photo of the coffee table. I laugh, coming back into the moment.
“I think it’s time I head back home. I’ll drop you on my way.” I take a photo of the bags I’m holding and text the photo to Macs.
As we walk to the car, I watch the gray bubble dance, waiting for him to reply. The anticipation is almost too much to bear. I think he’ll send words back, but he may send another random photo I’m supposed to decipher. It’s a photo. A pair of my panties. White ones, and they’re lying against the dark maroon comforter of our bed.
“Oh, that’s just not right,” Charlotte wails, leaning over to be nosy.
