that bullshit. Pretend to be happy until it feels right again. Smile, painful as it is, until the smile doesn’t hurt anymore. That’s all I’m asking.”
“That’s all?” Apparently her speechlessness couldn’t compete with her sarcasm.
“That’s all. Just try.”
“Fine. Fuck, I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this. Where, when, and how should I dress?”
The squeal from the other end left Bailey pulling the phone back from her ear. Michelle was nothing if not loud. They hung up moments later, and Bailey wandered around her house trying to figure out exactly how to go about pretending to be normal for a night.
Her small cottage in the woods was rented, and it was ridiculously tiny. Didn’t much matter because Bailey had little to nothing to her name, including appropriate clothes for a St. Patrick’s Day parade. She couldn’t even find anything green in her drawers to wear, and after forty-five minutes of literally trying on one outfit, wandering from her bedroom to the mirror on the bathroom door, stripping back out of the outfit and tossing it on the bed in a huff, and then trying on the next item she found in her closet, she collapsed on her bed and gave up.
She settled on a faded pair of jeans and a gray Notre Dame T-shirt she’d had since she was fifteen. It was tight as hell thanks to the fact she was no longer anywhere near fifteen, but she was guessing that actually made it more appropriate for a night out. What the hell did she know about the socially acceptable way for a twenty-seven-year-old to have fun?
Fun. Could she really do this? She wasn’t holding her breath, and as she stared at herself in the mirror after blow-drying her hair and applying a marginal amount of makeup, the pain hit. Amazing how used to pushing it away she’d gotten, but even more amazing was the way it snuck up and slapped her on the face at the most inopportune times. Her eyes teared for a moment, and she cursed her reflection as she shook her head, refusing to give into it.
The knock on her door pulled her out of her funk, and when she pulled the door open for Michelle, she was nearly pummeled to the floor of her cottage as Michelle tackled her for a hug. “Wow. What the hell’d I do to deserve that?”
“You agreed to go out. It’s been way too long.”
“Yeah, well, prison tends to put a crimp in one’s social life.” Bailey spoke through Michelle’s hair that was in her face as she held her in a tight embrace. When Michelle finally released her death grip, she pulled back and beamed at Bailey. “What if we see people we know? I mean, no one wants to see me. And frankly, I don’t want the reminders of just how much everyone in the world hates me except for you.”
“I’ll be there, and I’ll kick anyone’s ass who’s mean to you. We’re going to have some fun. To hell with anyone who wants to stand in our way.” Michelle was still beaming at her, and it was almost easy for Bailey to think for a moment that perhaps she could have a good time.
Michelle was wearing a dress. Of course she was, and she looked damned cute too. She was a good six inches taller than Bailey, and she was slim and lithe. God bless Michelle and her good genes. Suddenly Bailey was rethinking her T-shirt and old tattered jeans, but the second she said something, Michelle stopped her. “Oh, no you don’t. You look fabulous in that perfectly casual sorta way you pull off better than anyone else in the world. I remember that T-shirt. You got it when Jess’ parents took us to the football game. We all got one. Can’t believe you still have it!”
“Well, my clothes have been in storage for a while.” She contemplated for a second before opening her mouth again. “I saw him . . . Darren. Few times now. Can’t seem to stop running into him. ’Course, I tracked him down to yell at him in a parking lot one of those times. . .” She trailed off as she caught the wide-eyed shock on Michelle’s
“That’s all?” Apparently her speechlessness couldn’t compete with her sarcasm.
“That’s all. Just try.”
“Fine. Fuck, I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this. Where, when, and how should I dress?”
The squeal from the other end left Bailey pulling the phone back from her ear. Michelle was nothing if not loud. They hung up moments later, and Bailey wandered around her house trying to figure out exactly how to go about pretending to be normal for a night.
Her small cottage in the woods was rented, and it was ridiculously tiny. Didn’t much matter because Bailey had little to nothing to her name, including appropriate clothes for a St. Patrick’s Day parade. She couldn’t even find anything green in her drawers to wear, and after forty-five minutes of literally trying on one outfit, wandering from her bedroom to the mirror on the bathroom door, stripping back out of the outfit and tossing it on the bed in a huff, and then trying on the next item she found in her closet, she collapsed on her bed and gave up.
She settled on a faded pair of jeans and a gray Notre Dame T-shirt she’d had since she was fifteen. It was tight as hell thanks to the fact she was no longer anywhere near fifteen, but she was guessing that actually made it more appropriate for a night out. What the hell did she know about the socially acceptable way for a twenty-seven-year-old to have fun?
Fun. Could she really do this? She wasn’t holding her breath, and as she stared at herself in the mirror after blow-drying her hair and applying a marginal amount of makeup, the pain hit. Amazing how used to pushing it away she’d gotten, but even more amazing was the way it snuck up and slapped her on the face at the most inopportune times. Her eyes teared for a moment, and she cursed her reflection as she shook her head, refusing to give into it.
The knock on her door pulled her out of her funk, and when she pulled the door open for Michelle, she was nearly pummeled to the floor of her cottage as Michelle tackled her for a hug. “Wow. What the hell’d I do to deserve that?”
“You agreed to go out. It’s been way too long.”
“Yeah, well, prison tends to put a crimp in one’s social life.” Bailey spoke through Michelle’s hair that was in her face as she held her in a tight embrace. When Michelle finally released her death grip, she pulled back and beamed at Bailey. “What if we see people we know? I mean, no one wants to see me. And frankly, I don’t want the reminders of just how much everyone in the world hates me except for you.”
“I’ll be there, and I’ll kick anyone’s ass who’s mean to you. We’re going to have some fun. To hell with anyone who wants to stand in our way.” Michelle was still beaming at her, and it was almost easy for Bailey to think for a moment that perhaps she could have a good time.
Michelle was wearing a dress. Of course she was, and she looked damned cute too. She was a good six inches taller than Bailey, and she was slim and lithe. God bless Michelle and her good genes. Suddenly Bailey was rethinking her T-shirt and old tattered jeans, but the second she said something, Michelle stopped her. “Oh, no you don’t. You look fabulous in that perfectly casual sorta way you pull off better than anyone else in the world. I remember that T-shirt. You got it when Jess’ parents took us to the football game. We all got one. Can’t believe you still have it!”
“Well, my clothes have been in storage for a while.” She contemplated for a second before opening her mouth again. “I saw him . . . Darren. Few times now. Can’t seem to stop running into him. ’Course, I tracked him down to yell at him in a parking lot one of those times. . .” She trailed off as she caught the wide-eyed shock on Michelle’s
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