Page 101 of My So-Called Perfect Life
The Jonas Brothers croon asweet melody in my ear about dancing in the living room and being only human when my phone rings interrupting the private concert we were having on my walk home from work. I should be listening to *NSYNC to get myself all set for tomorrow’s real concert. But let’s face it. I know all the words to those songs.
I press the button on my earbuds and answer the call. “Hello?”
“Why is the screen black?” Mercy asks.
It’s been a long day and I’m not particularly in the mood for riddles. Today was the Friday from hell. This morning started with a student crying unconsolably because her mommy left her at “stupid school.” This then turned into two more students crying, missing their mommies too. It took almost twenty-five minutes to calm them down which set the tone for a bad day. Everything was off schedule. Then during snack time, Victor Rogers threw up on the table. The custodian had to clean and disinfect everything. During centers, one student bit another. I swear, I haven’t had a day this awful since student-teaching. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.
“What are you talking about?” I ask as I turn onto my block, my front stoop now visible.
“I can’t see anything.”
Reaching into the pocket of my jacket, I pull out my phone. “Why are you Face Timing? Miss me that much?”
“No.” She laughs. “My phone is on the charger and my computer was within reach. So . . .”
No shame in her laziness.
“What’s up?”
She gathers her hair and tosses it in a bun on the top of her head. “I wanted to know what you plan on wearing tomorrow and I wanted to make it known that I want to do one of those escape room things. Maybe Sunday if we’re up for it?”
“I have no clue what I’m going to wear, to be honest.” I really need to figure that out. “I’m not sure what I’m doing Sunday. I haven’t heard from Ryan.”
I haven’t heard from him since I left the bar last night, which is odd for us. We aren’t the couple who is in constant contact, but we are the kind who says good morning and check in a few times a day. So, for me to not have heard from him by four in the afternoon is not the norm.
My “Have a Good Day” text went unanswered and then my pictures of my tacos for lunch couldn’t even get a thumbs up.
Maybe he has just been too busy to get back to me. He’s been looking at places to lease for Cohen’s West and transitioning Roxy to full time bar manager all while still looking for new bartenders to replace her. He’ll get to me when he can. I don’t want to be one of those attention-demanding girls whose man can’t have a life outside of her.
“Are you listening?” Mercy huffs.Oops.
"Sorry, I was thinking about something else. What did you say?”
“Do you think it’s too late to find *NSYNC shirts? Maybe one with Justin’s face,” she repeats as she moves through her kitchen. She places her computer on the counter then opens and leans into her fridge. “And when you talk to Ryan, find out if he’s down for Sunday. I’ll grab tickets online if he is?” She calls over her shoulder as her ass fills the screen on my end.
My front door is only steps away and I cannot wait to get inside and slip into some sweatpants and lay on the couch. “I’m sure Ryan would love it. Sounds right up his alley,” I say. “Me? I don’t care. I’ll do whatever. As far as shirts, I think we all have matching ones somewhere. I’m pretty sure I know where mine is in my closet.”
Mercy’s eyes widen in recognition as she picks her head up from her search in the refrigerator and turns back to me. “I forgot about those. I think I know where mine is too. And, you don’t care about Sunday?” She sounds shocked. “Miss I-need-to-know-every-detail-of-everything doesn’t care about being locked in a room with a bunch of people and no way to get out?”
I roll my eyes. “There’s a way out. It isn’t like they can really kidnap you.”
She chuckles and says. “I’m sure your mom can work out some scenario where that’s what will happen.”
“I think she’d have a heart attack if I told her I was going to one of those,” I agree heading up the steps to my building.
Mercy flutters her eyelashes and lowers her voice to a saccharine sweet tone. “We’ll just tell her that big-strong-boyfriend of yours will save you.”
Inside and out of the chilly October cold front that moved in last night, I dig in my bag for my keys and stop at my mailbox to grab the mail. “Ryan would probably pay the people extra to purposely scare the shit out of me.”
She finally finishes in the fridge and shoves a slice of pizza in her mouth. “That’s gross,” I say.
“Cold pizza is the best,” she argues around a mouthful of said cold pizza. “And, I think your confusing the escape room with those haunted houses. Did you see that one that had people signing insane waivers? Get the hell out of here with that. No, thanks--”
A text pops up on the top of my screen as I hit the stairs.
Ryan:Looks like they were good. Helping Mom with the party tonight and tomorrow. Then I’m going hiking Sunday. I’ll be back Monday.
“You’re not even listening again, are you? What are you doing?” Mercy asks. “Why’d you pause me?”
