Thirty-Two Going On Spinster (The Spinster Series Book 1)

by Becky Monson

  I could stay out here all day long gossiping with Jared, and just looking at him and wondering what he’s thinking about, what he’s doing tonight, if he ever thinks about me for any reason besides work and baking … stalkerish stuff like that. But, of course, the break has to end because Jared gives some lame excuse about how he has to get back to work. I mean, who really cares about work?

  It’s then that I remember I have to get that spreadsheet done for Mr. Nguyen before the end of the day and it’s past three o’clock. I guess the flirting break must end, and I should do some actual work. Because if I don’t do my job, I’ll get fired and then I’d never see Jared again, and just the thought makes my heart drop. That would be horrible.

  Back at my desk I do my spreadsheet while intermittently thinking about Jared, which is making it way too hard to concentrate. But I have to get through it because it must be done by end of day. I attempt to plow through to make that stupid deadline.

  The spreadsheet I’m trying to work on is infuriating. One of the formulas must be wrong or something because I can’t get the final numbers to match. Have I mentioned lately how much I hate accounting? I do. I truly hate it.

  After about an hour and a half of trying to figure it out on my own, I resign myself to the fact that I’ll have to ask Mr. Nguyen for help, and I truly hate doing that because he’s not the kindest person to talk to. Plus, he’ll inevitably be annoyed that I can’t figure out the formula, and he’ll roll his eyes as if he should have done it himself.

  “Mr. Nguyen?” I say as I enter his office. He’s just sitting at his desk staring at some paperwork, abnormally long pinky nail intact.

  “Yes?” He looks up at me. He does not look thrilled to see me, which is a normal reaction.

  “Um,” I say as I walk into his office and take an uninvited seat at one of the gray guest chairs facing his desk. “I’m having a problem with this spreadsheet.” I show him the printed copy I made before I came to ask him for help. “I can’t seem to get the two bottom numbers to match.”

  “It’s fine,” he says not even looking at the report as I set it in front of him.

  “But … I think one of the formulas is messed up or something.” I point to the bottom of the spreadsheet where the problem is.

  “The formula is correct,” he says briefly, looking at the numbers.

  “Are you sure? I thought they were supposed to match.” I’m almost positive I’m right. Like ninety-nine percent sure.

  He looks at me like he doesn’t have time for this, and how could I even insult him and his intelligence. “It’s fine,” he says again, flatly. I can tell by the look he gives me, this conversation is over so I get up and leave.

  Back at my office, I’m surprised and incredibly happy to see that it’s already five-thirty. I gather my stuff and head out to my car. On the way, I stop by the break room to get my empty plate of cookies and wonder how many of them were eaten by Jared.

  I’m meeting Anna at Nordstrom’s in the mall. Anna is always late so I’ll inevitably have to wait for her, but it’ll give me time to pick out a few things on my own and see if I can actually find something stylish. I don’t know if I have it in me.

  As I arrive at the department store, to my surprise, Anna is already waiting for me with a bunch of clothes in hand.

  “Well, look at you,” I say in a silly high-pitched voice. “You beat me here. Wonders never cease.”

  “I guess shopping with someone else’s money made me want to be on time.” She shrugs, her curly, dark hair bouncing on her shoulders. Anna and I look remarkably similar, except for the curly hair. I was always jealous of her curls.

  “Just remember, we are shopping for me,” I say, just in case she has some crazy notion that I’m going to be buying clothes for her.

  “Duh. I know.” She purses her lips together, annoyed. Then she smiles, “Let’s get started.”

  She ushers me into a large dressing room, probably meant for someone in a wheelchair, but clearly it’s the only one large enough for all of the clothes she’s already picked out for me. Anna is in her element.

  “Start with this,” she says and hands me a pair of wide-legged brown pin-striped pants. The growing fear of looking like a clown when I put them on vanishes instantly as I cautiously glance at my reflection. They actually look cute. She hands me a white blouse with short, slightly puffy sleeves, and I put it on.

  She looks me over. “I don’t like the shirt.” She holds out her hand as I take it off and hand it back to her.

  “What’s wrong with the shirt?” I thought it looked cute.

  “Your shoulders are too broad for puffy sleeves,” she says as she looks for another shirt to pair with the pants.

  “My shoulders are broad? Like a man?” I look in the mirror at my shoulders. They actually are broad. Yes, that would make sense. A mannish looking spinster. It’s all coming together now.…

  “No, you don’t look like a man.” She rolls her eyes. “You just have broad shoulders. You’re definitely a girl.” She points to my boobs. “How did you end up with those? And I got these little mosquito bites? So not fair.”

  I look down at my chest and think about that for a second. “I have nice boobs? I never really noticed.” I smirk at myself in the mirror, and then turn to the side to inspect.

  “Yes, well the problem is that bra.” She points to my old cotton bra I bought at a discount store. “That thing’s not doing you any good. I’m going to go find you something better. I’ll be right back. Try on that dress while I’m gone.” She points to a little black dress hanging in the corner.

  I take off the brown pants and then slip on the dress. It’s a simple dress that hugs my figure nicely. The lining inside is a satin-like material, and it makes me feel so classy and feminine. Who knew clothes could make you feel like that? I honestly had no idea.

  I’m looking in the mirror as Anna enters the dressing room with a bunch of lacy, trampy, and uncomfortable looking bras. What is the point of having pretty bras? I don’t get it. I’m supposed to wear something lacy on the off-chance someone will ever see it? We all know, for me, it’s a very off-chance. Besides, as a spinster in the making, I should just stop wearing a bra altogether and let nature take its sagging course.

  “How did you know what size to get?” I ask as she hands me a lacy white bra to try on.

  “I’m just good, I guess,” she says, and smiles slightly at me. I glimpse a bit of something in her eyes, but I’m not sure what it is, something like worry, maybe. It’s hard to tell with Anna.

  I make her turn around as I try on the bra and it’s a perfect fit. It’s amazingly comfortable even with all the trampy lace.

  “See how this bra lifts and separates? Yeah, that’s what it’s supposed to do.” She looks at me condescendingly, but I don’t take offense. She certainly knows what she’s doing.

  “How did you get so good at this shopping stuff?” I ask as she hands me another outfit to try on.

  “I don’t know, I guess I just really got into styles and fashion when I was in middle school, and then it just kept going.” She adjusts the shirt I have on so it hangs nicely over the flowing black skirt I’m also wearing.

  I think back to Anna in middle school, and I can barely remember what she looked like. I had just moved back into my parents’ house when she was thirteen. We were in such different worlds. We never paid much attention to each other. I find myself feeling a little sad that I don’t really know her all that well.

  I’m feeling all these cheesy after school special feelings, and I want to say something sentimental to her, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Sappy, cheesy moments have never been a strong suit of mine. It’s just too much for me to handle, I guess.

  “You’re really good with this stuff,” is all I can say.

  She just smiles slightly at me, and then throws me another outfit to try on.

  We spend the next couple of hours trying on clothes and putting them in piles of “keep” and “don
’t keep.” The amount of clothes in the “keep” pile is getting quite large, and I’m starting to get scared at how much this is going to cost me. Then again, I’ve been living at home for free for the past ten years. Thank goodness I saved money. What else did I have to do with it? Besides the many baking gadgets I own, I’ve actually lived quite frugally. So, there’s one silver lining in my spinsterly existence. I’ve saved up a nice little nest egg. Look at me finding a silver lining! My mom would be so proud. It’s actually quite a large nest egg if I’m going to be honest. Ten years plus no social life, no traveling, not anything fun at all, equals a lot to save.

  After finally deciding that we’ve done enough damage for the night, we grab all the clothes and take them to the sales agent. The total was under two thousand dollars, but not by much.

  I realize I’m starving as we leave Nordstrom’s, so I ask Anna if she wants to get something to eat, expecting her to decline. To my surprise she says yes, so we go to a restaurant in the mall.

  We are seated by the host and place our orders with the server. There’s an awkward silence as we sit at the table together. What kind of conversation do you have with someone you should have a relationship with, but don’t? It’s very strange.

  “I’m moving back home,” Anna says, breaking the silence.

  “Really?” I say, nodding my head, and then my eyebrows shoot up at the implications of that statement.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to make a play for the downstairs apartment.” She looks at me flatly. “I’ll just move into my old bedroom upstairs.”

  “Oh,” is all that comes out of my mouth. Then I quickly add, “Well, that’ll be fun.” I smile at her as genuinely as possible.

  “Yeah, not really,” she says flatly. “I mean, who wants to move back into their parents’ house in their twenties?” She looks over to the table across from us and then quickly moves her head back to me. “I mean, no offense to you. I just never imagined my life like this.” I see a little sadness in her eyes as she says this.

  “Tell me about it,” I say and laugh an awkward laugh. “Never thought my life would be like this, but here I am.” I open my arms in a presenting myself kind of way. “So, why are you going to move back home?”

  “I sort of have no other choice,” she says unhappily, and stirs her soda with her straw.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, I guess I’ve gotten myself into a little bit of trouble.” She smiles weakly at me.

  “What kind of trouble?” I ask her, feeling concerned—which is a new feeling when it comes to me and Anna.

  “You really want to know?” She sounds surprised that I’d care.

  “Sure, why wouldn’t I?” How sad is it that my own sister doesn’t think I care about her?

  “Well …” she hesitates and then sighs, “I’ve sort of gotten myself into some credit card debt.”

  “That doesn’t seem like that big of a deal,” I shrug my shoulders at her. “How much could it possibly be?”

  “Um, I don’t know. I guess somewhere around fifty thousand dollars.” She looks down at the table, shamefully.

  I can’t keep my eyes from bugging out of my head. “Fifty thousand dollars? How is that even possible? You’ve hardly had a job. Who’d give you a credit limit that high?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t hard.” Anna looks at me with guilt in her eyes. “Anybody will give you credit cards these days.”

  “Yes, but not for that much,” I say, thinking there’s more to this story than she’s letting on.

  She looks down at her drink again and stirs it. There’s a pause while she collects her thoughts. “Um … well … I applied for some of them using Mom’s information,” she says and then looks at me, biting on her bottom lip, guilt written all over her face.

  “Anna!” My eyes bulge. “How could you do that to Mom?”

  “I was desperate!” She holds her palms as if to plead her case. “I just didn’t know what to do. I started small, figuring Mom and Dad never check their credit reports because why would they? They’ll live in that house until they die, and they never buy cars on credit, only cash. It was just like borrowing, only I didn’t have to bother them with all the details. I’m going to pay it all back.”

  “How? You don’t even have a job!” I’m trying hard not to yell.

  “Look, I don’t need you to lecture me. I know what I did was wrong, and I know I can fix it. Don’t start acting like you’re my all-knowing big sister that actually cares about me because we both know you don’t. The only reason you’re even paying attention to me right now is because you need shopping help. Otherwise, you’d be totally ignoring me like you usually do.” She blinks back tears.

  I don’t know what to say. Her words sting, as they were meant to. Sadly, Anna is right. I probably wouldn’t be paying attention to her in any other circumstance. If I took the time to look back, would I see our rift was from both sides? Or was the truth that she had always tried, and it was me that kept pushing her away? I’m not sure I want to know the answer.

  “I’m sorry, Anna,” I say. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m lecturing. And for what it’s worth, I’ve had a fun time shopping with you, regardless of how we got here.” I look down at my hands, feeling ashamed.

  We sit there in silence for a while, and soon after, the server arrives with our food. We both just sit, looking at it. I’m no longer feeling hungry, and she probably isn’t either.

  “Are you going to tell Mom and Dad?” I ask, breaking the silence.

  “No, and please don’t tell them.” She puts her face in her hands. “I’ve really messed things up.”

  “I won’t tell them, but Anna, you probably should. If it comes out in some other way … I just don’t think that would go very well.”

  “Yeah, I’ll have to figure it all out,” she says finally picking up her fork and stabbing her food with it, but not putting any in her mouth.

  Still feeling the remnants of the sting from her comment about not caring about her, I feel the sudden need to start. “I could help you,” I say, and she looks up at me.

  “Julia, I’m not going to ask you to bail me out. I wouldn’t do that,” she says, a bit of insult in her voice.

  “I’m not saying I’ll bail you out, but I could help you. I could help you find a job and … and, I could move out of the basement,” I say and regret the words immediately. Did I really just say that?

  “What? You? Move out of the basement?” Anna says, equally shocked.

  “Um … yes,” I say, trying to fake resolve in my voice, when I actually want to throw up a little. “I … I think I’ve been there long enough.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Julia. It’s not your fault I’m in this mess.”

  “I know it’s not my fault, but maybe I can start acting like a big sister and help you. Plus, it’ll probably be good for me.” The regretful words keep spilling out of my mouth, and the more I say, the more I can’t take it all back. This is not good.

  I guess the thought of having the basement apartment is making Anna’s move back home seem much more appealing to her because her appetite seems to be picking up and she’s starting to eat her dinner. I, on the other hand, have lost my appetite altogether. Actually, I may never get it back again.

  How am I supposed to move out of the basement? I mean, I know I should, for heaven’s sake. Who lives in their parents’ basement for ten years? Spinsters do, that’s who. But I don’t even know where I’d go. I’ve never lived on my own, never rented an apartment, never even thought about buying a place. I’m not ready to move into my spinster trailer home yet. I feel like it’s just too much to think about. It’s too overwhelming. I’ve always thought I should move out, but I never actually thought about moving out.

  One thing is for sure, I’ll have to figure a way out of this. I can’t move out. Not yet. I’ll just have to find an excuse, and convince Anna that living upstairs in her old bedroom is the way to go. Yes, that’s what I’ll d
o. I’ll think of a plan. I just can’t do it. I’m not ready to move out.

  I’ll make Anna understand. I have to.

  CHAPTER 6

  Apparently, I love to shop because I’ve gone the past four weekends. I’ve bought new clothes, new shoes, new makeup, and even accessories. It’s amazing! Why didn’t anyone try to get me to do this before? Oh, they did. I just resisted. Well, whatever. The point is I’ve now found a new hobby.

  Fashion is compelling. I had no idea how much talent and ability goes into designing and making just one shirt. It’s truly astounding. My new favorite show on TV is Project Runway, and I realize I’m most likely the last person in the world to catch onto it, but I love it. The talent is overwhelming. It puts baking to shame, really. Who can’t read a recipe and bake something? It’s not that hard,but to design and sew an entire evening gown in one day? That’s incredible.

  I sometimes dream that I’m a contestant. I realize this is an impossibility because first of all, I can’t sew, which is pretty key to being on the show. And secondly, I just found out about all this fashion stuff a month ago. So, I’m kind of new to all of it. I actually owe any fashion sense I have to Anna, anyway. Left to my own devices, I’ve been known to pick out shirts with shoulder pads, which, according to Anna, are “totally revolting.”

  Speaking of Anna, she’s officially moved back home, and it’s actually been really fun. She’s been hanging out with me in the basement apartment a lot. I bake goodies, and we talk. We also watch a lot of TV together. We love all the same shows. She’s the one who got me into Project Runway, of course.

  As for moving out, well, I’m pleased to say (and a little pukey also) that I’m actually going to do it. I came up with many ways to get Anna to see why I couldn’t leave, but every idea had holes in it. There just was no convincing argument.