Rock Bottom Girl

by Score, Lucy

  I suddenly felt queasy. Like old tuna salad left out in the sun queasy.

  “If you don’t mind and Jake doesn’t mind, that would simplify things greatly for me.”

  “It’s not a problem. I’m excited to see you.”

  “Me too. I could use some family time,” she said. Again there was a tightness in her voice, and I knew there was something she wasn’t telling me.

  “Are you sure everything is okay?” I pressed.

  “Of course. Don’t be silly,” she said brightly. “I’ve got to go. I have three meetings and an employee review standing between myself and two very nice glasses of Chardonnay. Send me your resume when you’ve drafted it, and I’ll doctor it up.”

  “Thanks, Zin,” I said.

  “Don’t mention it. Talk soon.”

  I hung up and stared at the resume on my laptop. Physical education instructor. It was a far cry from Director of Internet Sales and Social Media Management.

  My phone rang again on the kitchen counter. I saw the name on the screen and debated whether or not to answer it. It couldn’t be good news. And to be fair, I had no obligation to answer the call.

  “Hello?” I said, a masochistic martyr to the end.

  “Marley! Great to hear your voice again,” my old boss Brad sang into the phone. Brad never said anything without a great deal of enthusiasm. It had been annoying in normal workday conversation and had nearly caused me to commit homicide when he’d cheerfully told me the company was folding and I was out of a job and my life savings.

  “Brad. What do you want?”

  He laughed. Or was that a chortle? “Always straight to the point! One of my favorite things about you! Anyway, I’m calling with good news. We were able to sell the office space and some of the equipment and furniture. I’m sending you a check.”

  “A check?”

  “I know you invested some of your savings with us,” Brad continued.

  Some? How about every dime?

  “Anyway, it’s not everything you invested, but it’s something.”

  “How much something?” I asked, closing my eyes and sending up a prayer to the goddesses of financial security.

  “Just a touch over ten grand,” he said perkily.

  “Ten grand,” I breathed. Ten thousand dollars would give me start-over money. I could afford a security deposit on an apartment. Maybe a bed and a couch. Pay off another piece of those loans.

  A weight that had taken up residence on my chest lifted, and I took a sweet, easy breath.

  “I’m sorry it can’t be more,” Brad said. “But I’m glad we were able to give something back to you.”

  “Thanks, Brad. Really,” I said. And I meant it. At this point in my life, ten grand had the power to change everything.

  “I’m happy it’ll help,” he said.

  I gave him my mailing address and rested my forehead on the cool laminate of the countertop when we hung up.

  “Ten thousand dollars,” I repeated.

  It would go a lot farther here in Culpepper than Philadelphia or Baltimore or Charleston. I chewed on my lip and just for fun let myself imagine what it would be like if I decided to stay here. If I made Culpepper home again.

  Would the district give me the job permanently? Was that something I’d want? Gym teacher and soccer coach. Those were not the titles I’d envisioned for myself. I’d always wanted something that started with “vice president of” or “director of.” Something that meant importance. Well-compensated importance. I wanted an office and an assistant. And weird benefits like in-office acupuncture or Sushi Tuesdays.

  Didn’t I?

  Jake was here. Jake was a benefit that no other job or city could match. But we weren’t serious. He wasn’t serious. He’d told me he loved me in the throes of sex and never said it again. If he meant it, he would have repeated it. It was best to stick with the plan. If I fell for the man and he moved on again…it would be the worst loss I’d ever faced. I couldn’t survive that. Could I?

  My parents tumbled through the door that led to the garage, laughing and carting shopping bags. Their faces lit up when they saw me, and I remembered how happy they’d been to have me home.

  Would they understand when I moved on?

  Would I miss them more this time?

  “Guess who’s coming for Thanksgiving,” Mom said, setting down her bags and wrapping me in a hug. “Zinnia and her whole family are coming. I get both my girls here for the holiday!”

  “This is going to be the best Thanksgiving ever,” Dad chirped.

  “Let’s have takeout pizza and wine for dinner tonight to celebrate,” Mom said. “Call Jake and have him bring Homer.”

  I swallowed hard and nodded. “Sounds good.” And it did. A lazy night in with my parents and my boyfriend? It sounded great. But so did a corner office and my name on a business card.

  I needed a sign. A big, bright neon sign telling me what to do.

  73

  Marley

  Zinnia arrived in a cloud of Chanel No. 5, a smart pencil skirt, and a black cashmere turtleneck carting matching luggage. Her luxury SUV ate up my parents’ entire driveway. And her three kids bolted from it as if it were on fire. They were still in their school uniforms. Even her youngest, Rose, who was four, went to a fancy private day care that taught its charges how to count in Spanish, French, and German.

  At eight, Edith was the oldest. She was the violin maestro. Maestra? Chandler was the middle child and only boy. From what I could gather, he was much more interested in being a normal kid with video games and junk food than a future Ivy Leaguer.

  My parents charged forward, wrapping their grandchildren in too-tight hugs, planting too many kisses on their faces.

  I bypassed the fray and hugged Zinnia, who was unloading the kids’ Louis Vuitton from the hatch.

  “Where’s Ralph?” I asked, peering in the SUV expecting to see Zinnia’s husband on a conference call in the passenger seat. He spent a lot of time excusing himself from our family to take important calls.

  Zinnia dropped a child-size backpack on the ground. “He couldn’t get away,” she said, busying herself by arranging the kids’ fancy, healthy snacks in the insulated picnic basket she carted everywhere.

  Have hummus, will travel.

  She paused and gave me the once-over. I knew it was stupid and childish. But I’d made an extra effort with my appearance tonight. I didn’t want to feel like a wallflower next to my gorgeous, exotic, educated sister. I didn’t want to just fade into the background.

  I’d styled my hair in loose waves around my face and watched four YouTube makeup tutorials before I attempted my first smoky eye. I didn’t want her to know that I was trying. So I’d gone with nicely fitted jeans and a boatneck evergreen sweater.

  “You look great,” she said finally.

  I squealed internally at the compliment. It didn’t sound like it came from a place of pity.

  “Thanks. Will he be here for Thanksgiving?” I asked, hefting two kid-sized suitcases.

  She reached up and pressed the button to close the hatch. “I’m not sure. He’s really very busy.” I knew that tone. The professional, apologetic sound of it. I dropped the subject.

  “Mom! Grandma said we can have spaghetti for dinner,” Chandler yelled from the front yard.

  “Isn’t that lovely?” Zinnia said in the same tone. I could practically hear her rearranging her children’s macros to account for the extra carbs. “Then maybe I can make our famous zucchini noodles,” she said with forced cheer.

  I watched my parents hug Zinnia and welcome her into the house. No matter how old we were or how successful or important we were, Mom and Dad welcomed us home like we were queens. It was something I could always count on.

  * * *

  “Zinnia, I’m so excited you came early,” Mom said, pouring another glass of wine while my sister spiralized the crap out of an organic zucchini.

  I gave the sauce another stir and sipped from my own glass.


  “You can go to Marley’s game tomorrow,” Dad chirped.

  Zinnia looked a little shell-shocked.

  “Oh, uh. You don’t have to go to the game. It’s cold. And pretty far away.”

  I was far more confident than I’d been this summer. However, that didn’t mean I was ready for Zinnia to examine my meager successes that paled in comparison to her own. I was always afraid that she would dole out pity congratulations. It would ruin what tenuous sisterly bond we shared.

  Ten minutes in her presence, and I could already feel my self-esteem chipping away.

  “I’d love to go,” Zinnia said, smiling over her perfect vegetable noodles. I had a pot of boiling water ready to go for actual pasta just in case zucchini noodles tasted like garbage.

  “I’ll see if Mrs. Lauver can stay with the kids. You can ride with Dad and me,” Mom said, clapping her hands together.

  It was our second game in districts. We’d made it through the first round with a nail-biting yet satisfying win over the Huntersburg Bees, who had murdered us earlier in the season. The quarter-final game was tomorrow. I’d already been nervous. But knowing the perfect Zinnia would be watching from the stands was more terrifying than if my entire fan section was made up of Coach Vince, Amie Jo, and Lisabeth with throwing knives.

  The doorbell rang, and I dropped my spoon on the counter with a clatter. Jake. What had possessed me to invite him for dinner?

  “I’ll get it,” my dad screeched.

  A second later, Homer romped into the kitchen and made a beeline for me. He shoved his nose in my crotch and wriggled with delight when I dislodged him and gave him a good scruffing.

  “Doggy!” Children appeared from all doorways staring gleefully at Homer, who was busy telling me about his day in a series of grunts and groans.

  “A dog and presents!” Jake announced from the doorway.

  He held up gift bags, and I shook my head. He’d dragged me into a toy store last weekend with the plan to buy the affection of my nieces and nephew.

  It appeared to be working. The kids couldn’t decide whether they were more excited over Homer or the mystery gift bags. Jake swooped in and gave me a steamy, hard kiss on the mouth. “Hey, beautiful. I missed you.”

  This sexy son of a bitch was going to make some woman feel like the most important thing in the world someday.

  Zinnia’s eyes widened as she watched us.

  “Nice to see you again, Zinnia,” he said charmingly when he was done kissing the crap out of me.

  They shook hands politely, and then Jake plopped down on the kitchen floor, calling Homer over and distributing the gift bags to the kids.

  “Whoa! Glow-in-the-dark slime!” Edith was delighted. Zinnia was vaguely horrified. Score one for Jake. I’d told him the kids only got educational toys. He called bullshit and scoured the shop for the perfect gifts.

  “Sticky bugs,” Rose yelled at playground volume. She held up giant blister-wrapped insects.

  “Zombies that shoot darts!” Chandler triumphantly held up his prize action figures.

  “So my thought is, after dinner we have a sticky bug vs. zombie war, and they throw darts and slime at each other,” Jake said.

  The three kids looked up at him like he was Santa in a candy store offering them ponies and unlimited bounce house time.

  “Aunt Marley, will you play with us?” Edith asked as if daring to hope.

  “Only if you let me throw slime at Jake,” I told her.

  They all squealed. My sister closed her eyes and took a long drink of her wine.

  Poor Zinnia. She and Ralph worked so hard to make sure their children were well-mannered little geniuses. All Jake had to do was roll in with disgusting toys, and all their hard work and private schooling went out the window.

  My phone buzzed on the counter, and I glanced at the screen.

  It was an unfamiliar number, but…

  I snuck into the foyer and answered with a professional, “This is Marley.”

  “Ms. Cicero, this is Thad from Outreach in Pittsburgh. I received your resume for our data mining team and wanted to schedule an interview with you.”

  My heart rolled over in my chest. The knee-jerk urge to say “no thanks” and hang up was overwhelming. I wanted to stay in Culpepper. With Jake and my parents and my team. I wanted the life I’d somehow stumbled into.

  I was so surprised by the visceral certainty of it, I went into an immediate backpedal. I “uh-huhed” and “sure thinged” my way into scheduling an interview for the day before Thanksgiving.

  I didn’t have to keep it. I could change my mind. Or I could go. I could interview. I could try to envision a life in a busy office in a busy city four hours away from my old life.

  When Thad hung up, I covered my face with my hands and took a deep, shaky breath. The fork in the road was rapidly approaching, and I had to make a decision soon.

  74

  Marley

  It was cold, wet. The rain turned to sleet that sliced its way through my warm layers and chilled me to the bone.

  The seconds ticked down on the game clock, and as every moment passed, I could feel the hope drain from my body.

  We were down by two. Our offense couldn’t make a dent in the Bees’ defense.

  I felt it in the pit of my stomach. I knew what a win felt like, and this wasn’t going to be one.

  Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen. The game clock plodded on, determined to deliver the loss.

  Jake, his uncles, my parents, and Zinnia were in the stands. They were here to cheer me on. Instead, they were witnessing my failure.

  I had wanted so badly for Zinnia to see me win. To finally prove to her that I wasn’t the eternal screw-up she knew me to be. I knew it was stupid. Pathetic. And I wondered if somehow my neediness had karmically ruined it for all of us.

  The girls on the bench were standing up, shoulders slumped. I felt their disappointment like a wet blanket that was smothering me. It had been a long, cold, dirty game. And nothing we’d done had been enough to come out on top. It was a terrible end to the season.

  Ten. Nine. Eight.

  I’d let them down. I hadn’t been a good enough coach to get them farther. The guys team won their game yesterday and were headed to the semifinals. There was a pep rally scheduled for Monday.

  I kept imagining Coach Vince’s smugness.

  Those field lights felt like a spotlight of shame.

  Three. Two. One.

  The final buzzer sounded, and the Bees fans and bench erupted. The victors celebrated on the field while my girls hung their heads.

  Libby and Ruby, arms around each other, limped off the field, wiping tears away, and I felt the guilt like a fist to the chest. I’d let them down. I’d set them up to fail.

  I stared up at the scoreboard. 4-2 Bees. My watch vibrated, and I didn’t bother looking at it. I didn’t need a pity text or a pep talk. I wanted to wallow, to embrace the familiar darkness of failure.

  “Well. It’s over,” Vicky sighed, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with me.

  No more games. No more practices. No more bus rides and makeup tutorials. No more wins. My tenure as coach was officially over, and it had ended on a loss.

  That scoreboard was my bright, glowing sign from the universe. The tears of my team were another.

  Once again, I’d lost. Once again, my sister was there to witness it. And this time, I’d disappointed thirty-some teenagers.

  “Let’s go shake hands, ladies,” Vicky said, taking charge when it was clear I was too busy wallowing. “Come on, Coach.”

  Blindly, I slapped hands with the victors. Shook hands with the coaching staff and congratulated them on their victory. Their win was my loss. Their joy, my misery. I’d let so many people down. And proven so many people right. I was a loser. I’d always been one.

  I was sinking into the shame of it, and I couldn’t pull myself out of it. It was all so familiar. Just like every layoff. Every breakup. I was always destined to get knocked down again.
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br />   Numbly, I greeted Jake and our families. Zinnia gave me a sad, frozen smile. Just like she’d always done when I screwed up. She never threw it in my face. Never brought attention to my failures.

  Jake wrapped me up in his arms, and I wanted to just melt into his warmth. I wanted to give him my shame, my disappointment, and let him take it away from me.

  “I’m so fucking proud of you, Mars,” he whispered in my ear.

  But I didn’t believe him. I hadn’t done anything to be proud of. I’d disappointed my team.

  The bus ride home was quiet except for the occasional sniffle and nose blowing. I wished that I had the words to make them feel better. They hadn’t failed. I’d failed them.

  When we got back to the high school parking lot, I lamely congratulated each girl as she got off the bus. “Great season.” “Good job.” “Way to play.”

  But they could see right through me.

  I waited until they’d all gotten in their cars and driven off. Waited for the bus to leave. Waited for Vicky to head home to her family. Then, and only then, I sat in my car in the dark and cried myself sick.

  The knock at my window while I was blowing my nose into a fast food napkin scared the shit out of me. I recognized the crotch outside my window. I wasn’t ready to talk to that crotch or the man it was attached to.

  Jake knocked against the glass again.

  He was going to make me talk to him. And if I tried to drive away, he’d just chase me down.

  I opened the door and stepped out.

  “You okay?”

  I shrugged, not trusting my voice.

  “Aw, baby.” He gathered me close. “It crushes me to see you crushed.”

  “I let everyone down,” I whispered.

  “Mars, you lost a game. Not a war. Where’s the perspective?” he teased.

  But I wasn’t in the mood.

  “I was looking for a sign, and I guess I got it.”