Page 65 of An Overdue Match
“Duuuuuke’s.” She draws the syllable out long and loud, then sputters, “Hellmann’s. Don’t even know a good mayonnaise. Where did I go wrong with this girl.”
I laugh, the last of my nerves sliding back into their rightful places. “I’ll pick up the mayo, Granny.”
“Duke’s,” she clarifies.
“Duke’s,” I agree.
The call disconnects, and I steer my car to the neighborhood Kroger. Once I kill the engine, I sit back and worry my lip, looking at my hopefully-only-temporarily ruined wig. I have two choices. I can put on the wet, stained, stinky hairpiece and look like I have a dead drowned rat on my head, or I can walk into the grocery store naked as a jaybird from the chin up. Either way people are going to stare.
You shouldn’t care so much what people think. It just holds you back.Tai would say something like that if he were here and could read my mind. He’d encourage me to live my life more uninhibited.
I flip down the windshield visor and stare at my reflection in the small mirror. The top of my head is a pale, ghostly white. As soon as I step out of the car, the astronauts aboard the International Space Station will probably be blinded by the reflection of the sun off my scalp. From now on, I’m going to at least sit outside in my backyard without my wig so my head can match the same palette as the rest of my face.
Staring at myself isn’t helping and Granny is waiting and this situation isn’t changing, so I flip the visor back up, step out of the car, and march into the grocery store like I’m heading to the front lines.
If I’m lucky, I won’t run into anyone I know. It’ll just be strangers picking up groceries during a midmorning lull. No one will recognize me, and I won’t have to smile politely and answer questions likeHow have you been lately?that sound innocuous but are really code foroh, you poor jilted girl. There’s no way you can be doing all right because you no longer have a man, and by the looks of you, you won’t be snagging one any time soon.If I’m lucky, I won’t—
But I’m not lucky. I’m the unluckiest woman on the planet. Brett turns the corner to enter the condiments aisle. And he’s not alone.
“Evangeline.” Brett’s voice is familiar in a way I wish it wasn’t. Like leftovers in a Country Crock container forgotten for who-knows-how-long. Once something delicious that could make you groan with pleasure but now a rancid, rotting mess that makes your stomach turn at the mere sight.
I’m crouching down because the Duke’s is on the bottom shelf. There’s no quick escape from this position. Instead, I slowly rise, bringing the jar of mayo in front as if it can shield me from what’s happening.
The woman beside Brett has her arm threaded through his the way couples do. She’s tall and slender, wearing a cute summer dress and a cropped denim jacket that shows off her figure. Her hair—
My throat thickens, and I try to swallow past the lump that’s formed.
Her blond hair is long and flowy, naturally wavy with a healthy shine. She has beautiful hair. The kind that makes you want to reach out and touch it to see how soft it is. The kind that hypnotizes you with the way it bounces and moves when she walks. The kind that chips away at the small fragments of my self-esteem—the same ones where the glue has barely dried at holding them back together.
“Hello, Brett,” I finally manage to say.
He’s looking at me the way I’d been studying the woman with him. I can only imagine what’s going through his mind. None of it flattering.
I lift my chin. But then my gaze snags on something shiny encircled around one of the woman’s fingers. An engagement ring.Myengagement ring.
Brett must notice where my attention is because the next words out of his mouth are, “It’s good to see you, Evangeline,but we’re in a hurry. Maybe we can catch up some other time?” He whispers something in his fiancée’s ear, then pushes the cart around my comatose body before I can kick my brain back into functional mode again.
I pay for the mayonnaise, climb back in my car, and drive the rest of the way to my grandparents’ house on autopilot. There are too many thoughts taking up space in my head, and I want to shout at them to GET OUT, but of course I can’t because that’s not how thoughts work. I have to get ahold of them somehow, though. Organize them into groups instead of letting them have free reign in the space between my ears.
In one corner I push thoughts of Brett. I saw him again. I didn’t instantly want to murder him or imagine him a victim in one of Grampie and Penelope’s miniature crime scenes. He still looked at me with a mixture of pity and revulsion.
That look brings up the doubts, which I shove into another corner. Will everyone who sees me without a wig for the first time have the same reaction? Will people ever be able to look past the baldness? Will Tai?
I need a practice round. A neutral person I can reveal myself to. Someone I care about and who cares about me but doesn’t have the same emotional risks involved as with Tai.
I put the car into park and reach for my cell.
Hey Hayley. Can you come over after your shift? I want to show you something.
Hayley
What is it? If it’s weird Chuck Norris fanfic, I’ll pass.
Hayley
No, wait. I take it back. I’m sorry Chuck Norris! Don’t roundhouse kick me into another galaxy!
Hayley
