Sweet Reality

by Laura Heffernan

She grinned at me. “You get one last chance to change your mind before I’m going to give in.”

  “It’s beyond your control. I’m doing this. Cabinmate solidarity. Besides, who do I need to look good for?”

  Ed jumped, clapping his hands. “Me, too! Me, too!”

  On my other side, Danielle slammed the rest of her drink. “You’re all nuts. No way I’m shaving my head, but I’ll come along for support.”

  Rachel blinked several times, then waved her hands in front of her face. “You guys! I love you both so much.”

  Without so much as a glance at Tammy Rae, the four of us marched out of the casino, holding hands, with our heads held high.

  The salon attendants didn’t seem fazed by three people walking in and asking to have their heads shaved, not even when Connor appeared to video us. Naturally, the producers weren’t going to let us experience this moment in private.

  We took side-by-side-by-side chairs, and Danielle went to the gift shop to look at matching hats. Ed, of course, suggested she find one with his picture on the front.

  Moments later, the stylist got started. Rachel’s gorgeous blond curls hit the floor first, followed by Ed’s short black hair, then my stick-straight brown locks. We didn’t speak until the stylist finished, brushing final bits of hair off my shoulders. Then we all turned to face the mirrors at once.

  My bald head looked like the top of a lamppost. Round, smooth, and gleaming white. I started to stay something, but at least my face and scalp matched.

  Rachel may have possessed perfect bone structure, but her fake tan hadn’t been applied to her scalp, giving her a white line across her forehead. She wailed at her reflection. “I look like one of those things from Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory!”

  I started to reply, but Ed hooted. “If you are wise, you’ll listen to me!”

  Rachel glared at him, lips clamped together, but when her shoulders started shaking, a giggle escaped me. The stylist broke down, too, which only made everyone else laugh harder. When the unflappable Connor cracked a smile from behind the camera, I stopped fighting the urge to laugh. Beautiful features aside, Rachel really did look ridiculous.

  Every time my eyes met hers in the mirror, I heard the Oompa Loompa song running through my head and a fresh wave of laughter hit. Finally, I stopped and sat up. “Thanks, Ed. I needed that.”

  “No problem. And Rach, we’ll get you an awesome hat.” He leaned into the mirror, turning his head slowly from side to side. “Meanwhile, I look fabulous.”

  Unlike me and Rachel, Ed seemed more attractive than ever without hair. Or maybe I’d forgotten how hot he was. That’s how I could tell what good friends we’d become: he’d morphed into Ed, the guy I turned to for laughs and comfort rather than Ed, the hottest guy I’d ever seen in real life. Even with a newly shaved head.

  After the week I’d experienced, the sadness I felt staring at the mixed pile of hair on the tiles surprised me.

  Ed squeezed my hand. “It’s only hair. It’ll grow back.”

  “I know,” I said, swiping at my nose. “This is stupid. It’s not about the hair.”

  “Everything’s going to be okay, Jen,” he said.

  “Really? How?”

  “I don’t know. I was going for supportive.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Rachel said. Her scalp gleamed, creating a white cap atop her tanned face. “All you and Justin need is to sit down and talk about your relationship.”

  “What could he possibly say about sleeping with the enemy?” I asked.

  “Come on,” Rachel said. “There’s no way he actually slept with her. And you’d know that if you’d swallow your pride, tell him the truth about Dominic, and ask him.”

  “She’s right,” Ed said.

  If only I shared their certainty that this whole fiasco was nothing but a misunderstanding. Seeing Justin and Ariana together, over and over, made me wonder how I could have misinterpreted things. What possible explanation could he have for a naked “Ari” in his room? Did I want to hear it? How could I forgive him?

  Thinking something happened between me and Dominic didn’t give him a free pass to sleep with whoever he wanted. Especially not the one person he knew would hurt me the most.

  “If he had an explanation, why didn’t he tell me when we talked in the elevator? He had plenty of time to say, ‘Look, nothing happened, ’ and he didn’t.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t know what you thought you saw,” Ed said.

  “Yeah. Did you see Justin, or did you just take off?”

  “I ran,” I admitted. “But he heard me knock. He asked who was at the door.”

  “And Ariana probably told him it was housekeeping or room service at the wrong cabin,” Ed said. “You’ve got to talk to him.”

  “I don’t know. He was awfully quick to assume the worst about me. And to take his revenge.”

  “That’s the whole point,” Rachel said. “You don’t know if he actually did anything. Maybe he’s sitting around, crying on Ariana’s shoulder and wondering why you haven’t explained yet if nothing happened.”

  I didn’t know he slept with her, but I felt it deep down. Especially when I saw him and Ariana everywhere. The stabbing pain in my guts couldn’t be all a figment of my imagination. I shook my head. “Maybe we weren’t meant to be, Rach. It’s not like couples who meet on reality shows usually work out long-term. Look at all the failed relationships on those dating shows. Maybe we were destined to be a statistic.”

  “Don’t think that way,” she said. “Talk to him.”

  I’d tried to give him a chance. Instead of explaining, he’d attacked. But I’d done the same. What a mess.

  The three of us left the salon and squeezed into an elevator with the ever-present, never-speaking Connor and his camera. Rachel hit the button for the fourth floor, where we would meet Danielle at the gift shop. I prayed we wouldn’t pass Justin on the way. Or Ariana. Or Dominic. Or any combination of the three.

  We didn’t see them, but as we exited the elevator and walked past the casino, Tammy Rae whistled, stopping me in my tracks. “Jen! Love the new look.”

  Curling my lip, I kept my gaze focused firmly ahead of me. The last thing I needed at the moment was to deal with her gloating. According to Danielle, Rachel played her hand perfectly. She just got unlucky. I didn’t see any reason to relive the game.

  Then Tammy Rae spoke again, softer. “Come on, Jen. I want to talk to you.”

  I couldn’t imagine what we had to talk about, after everything. She’d decided my relationship was fake, cruelly twisting the knife as I watched my world crumble. She never let me explain what happened, believing the worst about me, like Justin. Like all of America did, back when Danielle called me a home wrecker on national TV, and I almost got voted off The Fishbowl because of it.

  Still, something in her tone made me pause. Maybe she wasn’t just planning to laugh at me, after all. And if she was, I did promise Leanna a showdown. It didn’t have to be with Ariana.

  Ahead of me, Ed turned back. “You okay? Want us to wait?”

  “No, it’s fine.” I shifted from one foot to the other, wishing I knew what Tammy Rae wanted.

  “I don’t bite,” she said. “I promise. Come on, five minutes of your time. What do you have to lose?”

  She had a point. I waved Ed and Rachel on.

  “I’ll buy you a hat,” Ed said.

  “I’ll make sure it doesn’t have a whale tail on it,” Rachel added. She mouthed, “Good luck” behind Ed’s back, where Tammy Rae couldn’t see her.

  After wavering from me to Ed and Rachel and back for a moment, Connor locked eyes with a cameraman standing just inside the door to the casino. He lifted his eyebrows, which must have meant something, because the other guy nodded. With a thumbs up, Connor turned and jogged after my friends.

  “That was a cool thing you did for your friend,” Tammy Rae said.

  Rubbing my head self-consciously, I approached like a fish nudging past a sleeping
shark. “It’s nothing compared to what she did for me.”

  “Still, you’re not so bad.”

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  “How’s the blond doing?”

  “Rachel’s fine. You saw her; she still looks great. The three of us were on our way to pick out matching hats for the rest of the cruise.”

  “Adorable. Those two a couple?”

  “No.” I didn’t elaborate. If she’d paid as much attention to the show as she’d made it seem when claiming I faked my relationship, she’d know pretty girls didn’t catch Ed’s attention.

  “Too bad. They look good together,” she said. “Come with me. Let’s talk.”

  She hadn’t bitten yet, so I followed Tammy Rae to a small seating area on the far side of the casino. I still wasn’t sure I wanted to hear whatever she planned to say, but this week couldn’t get any worse. As if by magic, a waiter appeared when we sat. Maybe she was still a high roller. Since it was only ten o’clock in the morning, I ordered a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream.

  “I heard what you said at the rum factory, you know,” Tammy Rae told me. “I’ve been thinking a lot the past day or so. You were right. You and Justin are normal people, same as me. I mean, totally not as famous as me—and you’re a terrible singer.” She winked.

  My face grew warm. “Sorry for butchering your song like that.”

  “It’s not the first time. Won’t be the last. Anyway, like I was saying, I can’t hold you two to impossibly high standards. The other day, you gave me a glimpse of true love. I can’t expect you to never hit a rough patch. And I can’t let whether I help you depend on things that are none of my business.”

  “Does this mean you’re going to give me the recipe?” My hopes skyrocketed, but a lot of noise surrounded us. My ears rang already; maybe I misheard her.

  She nodded. “You’re good people, Jen. Good people constantly get screwed by the world. Watching the four of you leave the casino, I realized I didn’t want you to be one of them.”

  “Thank you,” I said, genuinely touched.

  “Also, your friend Rachel? Before the tournament, she offered me five thousand dollars to tell you. Sober and everything.”

  My mouth dropped. Sarah and I could never repay her generosity. Even offering a thousand dollars had been a stretch. Five thousand meant taking almost two months’ living expenses out of my Fishbowl winnings.

  “I thought playing for it would be more fun,” Tammy Rae said. “But then I saw you come down to support her, how you sat with her throughout the game. I love the kind of loyalty you inspire in your friends.”

  “Rachel’s a wonderful person and a good friend. It’s easy to be loyal to her.”

  “Maybe, but don’t sell yourself short. You didn’t have to come watch the game. You didn’t have to rescue her at the rum factory. And you didn’t have to shave your head because she did it. It wasn’t your bet.”

  I started to disagree, but there was no point in trying to talk Tammy Rae out of having positive feelings toward me. Not when it sounded like she might be giving me exactly what I needed. Instead, I asked, “Speaking of the bet, why did you go along with the bet if you were going to tell me the secret either way?”

  She shrugged. “I wasn’t going to. It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, you know.”

  “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  “I don’t want anyone to overhear, so I’ll text it to you,” Tammy Rae said. “You’re on the cruise line messaging system?”

  I nodded, afraid to breathe in case she changed her mind. She began tapping, and I pulled out my phone, ready to pounce the second the notification arrived.

  An excruciating five seconds later, the device buzzed in my hand. The message popped up, containing only two words. Words that so confused me, I blinked and rubbed my eyes before reading them again.

  Breast milk.

  Chapter 19

  Inside the Guppy Gabber, Friday:

  Rachel: Ok, so I’ve been planning to donate my hair to Locks of Love for a while now. Sure, I wasn’t thinking I’d shave the whole thing, but it’s only hair. It’ll grow back. I’m just bummed I lost. Jen really wants Tammy Rae’s secret ingredient.

  Ed: The hair does not make the man. And I think my man likes my new smoothness. I may keep this look. What do you think of this hat?

  Jen: Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Ew. Oh my god. I’m gonna vom. Get out of my way. Sorry.

  Danielle: Maybe I should shave my head, too. Show my support for Jen? No, wait. No way.

  My mouth opened and closed soundlessly for what felt like an eternity. “Did autocorrect change this? Is the first word supposed to be . . . goat? Or maybe soy?”

  Please, please, please tell me this is a joke.

  We couldn’t put breast milk into food we were serving to humans. The health department would shut us down in a heartbeat. Even if they didn’t, no one would eat at our bakery once word got out. Even with other products, they’d always wonder what other bodily fluids made their way into our food. I shuddered at the thought.

  She checked her phone. “No, that’s right.”

  I wracked my brain. “Where do you even get breast milk? Aren’t your kids in their twenties?”

  “Oh, honey, a woman can keep producing breast milk forever as long as she’s got the stimulation. Now I’m nursing my grand babies.”

  This conversation kept moving further down a road I never, ever wanted to take. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to gag.

  “Don’t look so grossed out,” she said. “It’s totally natural. And you promised not to tell anyone my secret ingredient. You share, I sue.”

  “There are cameras everywhere,” I said. “You think none of them picked up this conversation? Maybe they didn’t get the text, but I can almost guarantee there are microphones around.”

  “Not my problem. You share, I sue.”

  “I’m not talking. What would be the point? We can’t use this recipe now. Not with breast milk in it.”

  “Sure you can. All you need is the right stimulation. You could actually buy a pump, and you and Sarah could produce your own. It takes time, but—”

  She kept talking, but my ears actually shut down out of self-preservation. I heard nothing but the pulse beating in my forehead, threatening to explode. So this is what hysterical deafness felt like. I wanted to run away, but my legs wouldn’t move.

  The waiter brought our hot chocolate, which I grasped like a life raft. After a couple of deep gulps, I managed to speak. “I’m not sure my partner and I can afford to be tied to breast pumps while starting a business.”

  “Okay, fine, I get it if you’re not up for that. I’m not far from Florida. We’ll work something out. I can have the product delivered to you if you don’t have a wet nurse.”

  Unwilling to believe what I heard, I surreptitiously gripped the skin under my right arm with my left thumb and forefinger and squeezed. A flash of pain ran through me, but this nightmare, apparently, wouldn’t end.

  “Thanks so much,” I said, struggling for the right way to explain that she completely missed the point. “But I don’t think it’s legal to use human byproducts in food products sold to the public.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be? It’s all natural!”

  I opened my mouth, but immediately closed it. Pointing out that marijuana was all natural but also didn’t belong in food—and so were a million other things, like dog poop and henna—might not help at this exact moment. I still needed a recipe to bring to Sarah, and maybe Tammy Rae could tell me something else of use.

  “Have you ever tried a substitute? Coconut milk? Soy?”

  “Nope. It’s gotta be breast milk to get the texture right. Plus, there’s this unique, subtle flavor to it.” She shrugged. “Look. Use it or don’t. You swore not to tell anyone. And I still want the five hundred dollars you promised.”

  I didn’t have the energy to argue. A lead balloon filled
me. I’d lost everything trying to get a recipe I couldn’t even use. Leaning to one side, I withdrew five folded bills from my pocket and held them out. “Here.”

  Tammy Rae took the money and shoved it into her bra. “Thanks, Jen. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

  In response, I forced the corners of my lips upward. I couldn’t manage any other reaction. Trying not to let my disappointment show, I stuck the phone back in my pocket.

  Total cruise fail. Total relationship fail. Total life fail.

  * * *

  After Tammy Rae left, I stayed on the couch, trying to figure out what on earth to do next. What a waste of a week. I should’ve stayed home, researched recipes on the internet, and watched reality shows for more ways to tie our products to other stars. I should’ve known better than to come on this stupid cruise. There was never any chance Ariana wouldn’t ruin it.

  “Here.” A voice spoke nearby, but I didn’t recognize it, so I kept studying my shoes.

  A piece of paper entered my field of vision. Unfolding it, I found a copy of the itinerary that appeared in our cabin every morning. Finally, I looked up to find Madison smiling down at me, her interpreter off to the left.

  Just what I needed. A friend of Ariana’s to come . . . what? Gloat over my misery? Tell me how happy Justin was now?

  “Hi.” Realizing she couldn’t hear me, I waved. Then, I flushed, as her interpreter passed on my greeting. Of course I could speak normally. That’s why she had an interpreter.

  To cover my embarrassment, I tried spelling out her name using the ASL alphabet I’d learned in Girl Scouts as a kid, but I wasn’t sure about some of the letters.

  After a minute, Madison laughed and put her hands over mine. Her hands flew through the air. “You don’t have to sign. We can use our phones to chat privately for a minute, if you don’t mind?”

  I nodded and pulled out my phone. Madison signed something to the interpreter, who moved a few feet away and turned around. A real private chat. Surely, interpreters were governed by some kind of code. What could Madison want to talk to about that even the interpreter couldn’t know?