Page 3 of Not You Again
After what felt like hours but was probably more like minutes, Carly had no more tears left. So when the front door squeaked open and she spied Hank—the janitor her dad had told her about—she couldn’t so much as fake a hello. Hank looked at her, then at the trail of spilled candy.
“I’ll clean this up.” Her hands instinctively went to the floor.
“Let me,” Hank said as he approached. Why hadn’t Hank come to her dad’s funeral? Was Julian just filled with soulless, rude people?
But then Adam popped into her head. He hadn’t been rude. He’d tried to help. So, naturally, she’d gone and chased him off.
“You go outside,” Hank added. “Get some fresh air. See the eclipse. Your dad would’ve wanted that.”
The eclipse. Yes, Carly had forgotten about the total eclipse that was happening because, well, her dad. She wordlessly agreed to let Hank do his job, and then numbly moved toward the exit.
Outside the theater doors, the sun was low in the sky and filled Main Street with warm light. A preschooler rode a scooter down the sidewalk as her mother chased along behind. The child’s delighted squeals blended with Carly’s ownsniffling. A chunk of her life had ceased to exist, but somehow everyone else carried on like that didn’t matter. As she glanced down the street, there were a handful of people in eclipse glasses, and kids lying on their backs with their faces toward the sky, delighting in the novelty. The whole scene would be quaint if she weren’t in mourning.
The truth that Carly didn’t belong in Julian hit her like a punch. She belonged in Burbank, where she’d grown up and had a studio apartment waiting for her. The sooner she could wrap up her dad’s affairs, the sooner she could get back home and leave behind the reminders that he was gone.
Home.The thought made Carly slip her phone out of the pocket of her black midi dress. There was a text from Daniel, her closest friend. She didn’t have a ton of those.
Daniel:Call me, okay?
She would call him, eventually.
Then she clicked into her email. Being a screenwriter was a mostly solitary endeavor. So when she saw the new email with the simple subject line of “script,” she felt compelled to open it.
from: [email protected]
subject line: Script
Carly, I read your script. I think it has potential. Let’s set time to discuss. xx
She read it again. Then again. Carly had recently sent a script to Marilyn Montgomery—one ofthemost successful screenwriters in the business—after her dad had called ina favor. But she never expected a reply; favors were called in all the time in Hollywood, and often nothing came of them. But Marilynhadread her script. She said there waspotential. She... wanted to discuss it?
Normally, knowing that an Academy Award-winning screenwriter thought her script couldbesomething would elicit the kind of manic excitement that might frighten the nearby children. But in this moment, where Carly could barely stand from grief, all she could do was smile. A genuine smile, because she knew her dad would be so proud.
Her life was about to change. She couldn’t call Marilyn, not when she might start crying if another human so much as spoke to her, so she typed a quick response back.Thank you for reading! I will send availabilities shortly! Thank you, again!She hit Send before she added another superfluous thank-you or exclamation point, and immediately got a failure-to-send notification. Carly frowned, and out of sheer desperation, placed a call to Daniel. Only, the voice that greeted her was an automated recording.The number you’re trying to call is not reachable.
Before she could overthink it, voices rose around her and the people nearby pointed toward the sky.
Maybe the service was glitching because everyone was outside on their phones and livestreaming the eclipse. She’d try emailing again as soon as it was over. What the hell; she might as well see the eclipse. Her dad had been eager to watch, and if she couldn’t be with him physically, maybe this was a different way to honor his memory. Carly took a deep breath, shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up.
This, however, was absolutely a mistake. Her retinas instantly burned. She blinked back the sting and tried to open them again, but her lids felt stuck together. All she saw was black. Had she just blinded herself on top of everything?
There was a flicker of an image—white folding chairs andher dad’s coffin—followed by his voice—Come find me, Carly girl—so clear and loud her breath caught.
Then, as quickly as it had all come on, her eyes opened. “Dad?” Carly said.
Main Street came back into focus—the kids lying on top of towels, strangers pointing toward the sky. Of course he wasn’t there. She must’ve heard his voice in her fog of grief.Come find me, Carly girlechoed like a drum in her head, though. Logically, she knew that her heart wasn’t actually breaking, but how else to explain the sharp and sudden pain in her chest? She placed a hand to her forehead, let out a shuddering breath and wished the day would just end already.
Chapter 2
Adam
Adam was a logical person. He worked in facts, not emotions. Which was part of what made him great at his job, really—while clients fell apart with grief, he was the dependable shoulder they could lean on.
Still, if ever there was a time for him tofeelsomething, standing in the bedroom he’d shared with Shireen was probably it. Instead, the facts just danced in a steady rotation.
Shireen cheated on me.
