Honey on Your Mind

by Maria Murnane

  Hat Girl laughed too. “We’re totally hurting too. We had our holiday formal last night.”

  High-Bun Girl nodded. “It was intense. On the way home, my date threw up out the window of the bus.”

  “That happened to me once,” McKenna said. “KA spring fling. Jason Parker. Off the balcony.”

  “I think it happens to everyone at least once,” Andie said, nodding.

  I thought of my sorority days from way back when. It was hard to wrap my head around how many years had passed since then. The two women standing here seemed so young, which of course made me think about how old we must seem to them. Are we really that old now?

  As I posed for a photo with my “fans,” I glanced at McKenna and thought of her husband and baby at home, then took a quick look at Andie and thought of the big move that awaited her back in San Francisco.

  There was no getting around it. No matter how immature we acted on occasion, we were grown up now. We were hardly old, but no one would consider us kids anymore.

  • • •

  “So how long do you think you’ll stay in New York?” McKenna finished her water and set the glass on the table. She had insisted on an alcohol-free dinner that evening, at least for herself. Meanwhile, Andie, more determined than ever to remain childless after seeing how far McKenna had fallen from her glory days of barhopping the night away, had ordered a bottle of pinot noir that she and I would split.

  “I’m really not sure. At first, I had it in my head that I’d stay for a couple years, but after living here a few months, I can see how two years could easily stretch into like…ten. There’s just so much to do, and I haven’t even scratched the surface.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t stay away too long. Elizabeth’s early education won’t be complete without witnessing a few Waverly moments. It’s just not the same hearing about them over the phone.”

  “Thank you, Mackie. That’s what I’ll think the next time I slip on a patch of ice or a pigeon drops a load on my head: I wish little Elizabeth had seen that.”

  Andie refilled my wine glass. “I hate pigeons. They’re like flying rats. So how’s it been working with Paige?”

  I felt the blood in my veins go cold. So far, I’d managed to avoid the topic of Paige and had been hoping to get through the rest of the weekend without having to talk about her at all. Knowing me and my big mouth, I knew the chances were excellent that I’d inadvertently blurt out something inappropriate.

  “Paige?”

  “Yeah, how’s that going?”

  I had to say something, but I didn’t want to lie. I was a horrible liar, and Andie was perceptive, so I needed to be careful.

  I decided to tell the truth and exercise selective omission.

  “She’s great. Amazing, actually. She’s lined up some big retail accounts for Waverly’s Honey Shop, and in January she’s coming on board full-time.”

  “Full-time, for real?” Andie said. “You’ll be paying her a salary?”

  I shook my head. “Commission, but a really good commission. And did I tell you guys I’m opening an office for Waverly’s Honey Shop? I feel like I didn’t tell you that.”

  “I think I need to subscribe to your blog to keep up with your life,” McKenna said.

  “Please, like I would ever in a million years have a blog.”

  “And thank God for that,” Andie said.

  I nodded. “I hate personal blogs. Why people feel the need to share the minutia of their lives with the whole world is beyond me. Why on earth would I want anyone to know about my bunions? Or what type of shampoo I use? It’s madness!”

  “I feel the same about people who Tweet,” Andie said.

  I pointed at her. “Exactly. And don’t even get me started on Facebook.”

  “You two want to get off your social-media soapbox so Waverly can tell us more about her office?” McKenna said.

  I smiled. “I’m sorry. I just get a little fired up about stuff like that. Anyhow, the Honey products really seem to be taking off, and while I’m exhausted from running around at Paige’s beck and call, none of it would have happened without her. She’s really good at her job.”

  “She’s crazy smart,” Andie said. “I remember when we were kids, she knew all the answers on Jeopardy. She was a brainiac, even back then.”

  I took a sip of wine and thought about how I could change the subject. Before I could say anything, Andie spoke again.

  “So is Paige seeing anyone these days?”

  Damn.

  Don’t lie, don’t lie, don’t lie.

  “Um, I think so,” I said, burying my nose in my glass.

  “Really? I’m glad to hear that,” Andie said. “That girl has been through the dating ringer.”

  McKenna looked at her. “More than Waverly?”

  I coughed. “Thanks for that. It’s nice to know I’m a barometer by which to measure romantic failure.”

  “Hey now, she’s just telling it like it is. Don’t be afraid to own it,” Andie said. “And yes, Paige’s list of dating horror stories rivals Waverly’s. At every family reunion she seems to have a new one that tops the one before it.”

  “Really?” McKenna said.

  “Oh yes. Has she told you about Wait-for-a-Taxi Guy?”

  I looked at her. “Wait-for-a-Taxi Guy?”

  “Yeah, it was when she lived in Baltimore. That story is unbelievable.”

  “Well?” McKenna said. “Are you going to leave us just hanging?”

  Andie leaned toward us for a moment, and then sat up straight. “Are you sure you want to hear this? It’s gross, and we’re eating.”

  McKenna waved a hand in front of her. “Please. You don’t know gross until you give birth.”

  Andie nodded. “True. It doesn’t get much grosser than pushing a fully formed human being out of your vagina.”

  “Andie!” I said, laughing.

  “She brought it up,” Andie said with a shrug.

  McKenna rubbed her hands together. “OK, lay it on us.”

  Andie leaned in again and lowered her voice. “OK, so listen to this. When she lived in Baltimore, Paige went on a blind date with some guy who worked with a friend of hers or something.”

  “OK…” I said.

  “So the date went fine. Not amazing or anything, but not awful, either. Just fine. They went to dinner at some restaurant in her neighborhood, nothing fancy.”

  She paused to take a sip of her wine. We waited for her to continue.

  “Apparently Paige was living in an area where there aren’t a lot of cabs cruising around on a Thursday night. So after dinner, her date suggested that he call a cab and wait for it at her apartment after walking her home. She was like, OK, whatever. But just so you know, I have an early flight tomorrow morning, so I need to pack.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Lie.”

  “No. Totally true. And she was going to be gone for like ten days, so she really did need to pack.”

  McKenna gestured for her to continue. “OK…”

  “Paige told him this, but he still wanted to come up, so they walked to her building and went upstairs, and he called a cab. She showed him around the living room and handed him the TV remote, then started packing. For like five minutes she was in and out of the bedroom and the bathroom getting her things together…until she heard some weird noises coming from the living room.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “At first she thought it was the TV, but the noises kept getting louder, so she decided to see what was going on…”

  “And?” McKenna and I said at the same time.

  “And…I kid you not…”

  “And what?” we said.

  Andie lowered her voice even further. “And…the guy was…well…he was…having a little party on her couch.”

  “A little party?” McKenna said.

  Andie made a squeamish face. “Yeah, you know…like a party for one? Like…in his pants?”

  I laughed aloud. “You’re joking.” />
  “Totally not joking.”

  “No way,” McKenna said.

  Andie held her palms in front of her. “Paige swears it’s true. Why the hell would she make up a crazy story like that?”

  “So what happened then?” I asked.

  “Well, she was like, Um, what are you doing, you perv? And apparently he jumped up, zipped up, and took off. And that was it.”

  “Wow, that guy had some balls,” McKenna said.

  I looked at her and laughed. “Yeah, literally.”

  “At least she didn’t like that one.” Andie gestured to herself and then to me. “Both Waverly and I have had our dating nightmares, but most of them were more funny than sad. Poor Paige has dated some serious assholes. She puts on a good face, but she’s been hurt a lot.”

  “Yeah, I’ve sort of figured that out,” I said.

  Andie nodded at me. “It’s not fair. She’s so nice, you know?”

  “Yeah, it’s not fair.” If you only knew.

  The ring of McKenna’s cell phone saved me from having to say anything more.

  “I’m sorry, ladies, that’s Hunter. I should get this.” She stood up to take her phone outside.

  “I’ll get up too,” I said. “I need to use the restroom.”

  “That means more wine for me,” Andie said, refilling her glass.

  Crisis averted.

  • • •

  “So your dad’s getting married?”

  I took a sip of my coffee and smiled. “Can you believe it? I never thought I’d see the day, but he’s like a new man since he met Betty.”

  Andie nodded. “Scary how that works. I keep hoping some guy will come along to make a new woman of my mom, but apparently my dad isn’t going anywhere, so she’s still a huge bitch.”

  I laughed. “Come on, she’s not that bad.”

  “Oh no, she’s a nightmare. But it’s OK. I’ve come to accept it.”

  We were finishing up brunch the next morning and trying to figure out how to spend our last hours together before Andie and McKenna left for the airport. I was so sad the weekend was already coming to a close. McKenna still wasn’t feeling great after our big night out Friday, so we’d again abandoned the idea of a nausea-enhancing ferry ride.

  “How about we take one of those tours at the Tenement Museum on the Lower East Side? I hear they’re cool,” I said.

  Andie shook her head. “Too depressing. I’m already depressed enough that we’re leaving.”

  McKenna took a bite of her French toast. “Can you imagine sharing one or two bathrooms with like twenty other families?”

  “I can’t even imagine having a roommate,” I said, suddenly feeling guilty at all the food I was leaving on my plate.

  After brunch, we finally made a decision to walk the High Line, an abandoned elevated subway track that had been turned into a charming park covering a mile-long stretch on the west side of Manhattan. After strolling the length of it, we finished off the afternoon with a hot chocolate up in Bryant Park, and then took the subway back to Brooklyn Heights.

  We got home later than we should have, so Andie and McKenna ended up packing in a mad rush. I grew sad as I watched them throw their bags together.

  “I can’t believe the weekend is already over. That went way too fast.”

  “I know. I didn’t even eat a cheap hot dog on the street,” Andie said. “Nick is going to be so disappointed in me.”

  “You know what? I’m sad to leave, but I’m also excited to get home to Elizabeth,” McKenna said. “I can’t believe how much I miss that adorable, toothless grin of hers. I even miss her little baby smell.”

  “You’d better not be talking about the smell that most people associate with babies,” Andie said. “If so, you’ve totally lost it.”

  “And you miss Hunter too, of course,” I said.

  McKenna laughed. “Of course. Hunter smells good too.”

  The buzz of the doorbell alerted us to the arrival of the taxi. Out of nowhere, tears started welling up in my eyes. My tiny elevator wasn’t big enough for all of us with their luggage, so I held the gate open for the two of them before descending the stairs alone.

  I met them at the elevator, which was so rickety and slow that I beat them there.

  “I think I just suffocated to death.” Andie jumped out of the tiny cage into the fresh air of the lobby. “I think I may be dead right now.”

  “Good lord, you’re so high-maintenance,” McKenna said. “Does Nick know you’re so high-maintenance?”

  Andie tilted her head to one side. “Does Hunter know you were dancing on a table two nights ago?”

  “Touché,” McKenna said, laughing.

  Andie nodded. “Don’t poke the bear.”

  Once we were on the sidewalk outside my building, they took turns hugging me good-bye.

  “Good luck meeting Jake’s parents,” McKenna said.

  Suddenly I was nervous. “Thanks. I may need it.”

  “No you won’t, that was just an expression. They’re going to love you. How could they not?”

  Andie nodded. “You are quite loveable. Now, don’t be a stranger. I don’t want to have to tune into Love, Wendy to make sure you don’t cut your bangs too short again.”

  I laughed. “I promise to be better about keeping in touch.”

  McKenna put her arm around me. “So I guess we’ll see you at your dad’s wedding?”

  I felt the tears welling up again. “You’re really going to come?”

  She nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Ditto,” Andie said. “What better way to celebrate Valentine’s Day?”

  I smiled. “You two are the best. I don’t know what I’d do without you. What would I do without you?”

  “Apparently, you’d be turning into a TV star in the Big Apple,” Andie said. She made scissors with her fingers. “Remember, don’t cut those bangs.”

  I saluted. “I promise.”

  I hugged them each once more, and then let out a sigh as I watched their cab drive away. I wish you both lived here.

  After the taxi turned the corner, I unlocked the front door of my building and slowly climbed the stairs back to my apartment. Now feeling gloomy, all I wanted to do was curl up with a blanket and watch a sappy movie on Lifetime. I also wanted to call Jake and fill him in on all the fun details of the weekend. I needed to hear his soothing voice.

  Before I even sat down, however, my phone rang. It was Scotty, asking me to cover a free concert in Prospect Park that had just been announced for that evening. I glanced at my watch to check the time. If I was going to make it, I’d need to leave my apartment in twenty minutes.

  So much for my break from reality.

  The following week was more hectic than I’d thought possible. Because so many of us were going to be gone around Christmas, we all had to prepare a lot of material ahead of time. Wendy was doing two shows a day in front of a live studio audience, and as a result, my team was shooting at least one if not two features each day. A couple of times, I actually had to change clothes to make it look like a separate day. I found this absurd, given that it was winter and in every outdoor segment I was wearing a huge black coat that covered most of what I had on underneath. But that was the protocol at Love, Wendy, so I kept my mouth shut. Although we had a long list of features to shoot, I still hadn’t come up with a good idea for the New Year’s Eve show.

  Late Wednesday afternoon, I squeezed in an hour between shoots to meet Paige for coffee. She wanted to catch up on work stuff before she took off to visit her parents for the holidays. We’d only texted, so I still had no idea what had happened during her weekend with Gary. As I pushed open the door to The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, a wave of dread swept over me. I wonder what he told her?

  I spotted her sitting at a table when I walked in.

  “Hey, Waverly, it’s great to see you.” She stood up and gave me a hug. Her blonde hair looked a little lighter than usual, and I wondered if she’d highlighted it for her t
rip to Vermont.

  “It’s, um, it’s good to see you too.” I was at a loss for words, a rare experience. Does she know? Does she know I know?

  She pointed to the counter. “I just ordered a hot chocolate. Want one?”

  “Sure, sounds good.” I took off my coat and sat down at the table. Oh lordy, this is awkward.

  A minute later, she handed me a hot chocolate and took a seat. “So how was your weekend with my cousin? I hope she didn’t get herself arrested.”

  I laughed. “Thankfully, no, although she did drag me to a club in the Meatpacking District.”

  “You did not.”

  “I did. Do you know how old that made me feel?”

  “I haven’t been to a club in years. I can’t imagine dealing with that scene now. Too many prepubescents in slutty clothes for my taste.”

  I pointed at her. “Exactly! It was a total scene. The stars of the scene were prepubescents in slutty clothes, and I was an extra who never should have been hired in the first place. I kept waiting for the director to show up and kick me out.”

  She laughed. “Please, I’m sure you added a much-needed touch of class to the establishment.”

  I took a sip of my hot chocolate. “You are way too nice. But we had a great weekend. McKenna, the third Musketeer, so to speak, surprised me and came out with Andie.”

  “She’s the one who just had the baby, right?”

  I nodded. “She rallied to fly all the way across the country for a girls’ weekend.”

  “Sounds like the three of you are tight.”

  “Yeah, they’re pretty much the sisters I never had.”

  She stared at the paper cup in her hand for a moment, and I was sure she was about to say something about Gary.

  I held my breath.

  What am I going to say back to her?

  But then she appeared to change her mind—and the subject.

  “So hey, I know you’re swamped with taping, but I wanted to debrief you on the rollout plans for the orders at Jordan Brooke and Bella’s Boutique. Those two accounts alone are going to keep us really busy, so I’ve found a couple students from FIT to do a work-study next semester.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “FIT? As in the Fashion Institute of Technology?”