Page 50 of June: Jess' Story

And the job?

Is great.

Cool.

Yup.

Did you hear Alex is getting married?

Plunk.I drop my phone into the cup of coffee I was pouring. Instantly there’s water in my eyes. My throat gets painfully tight. A hand goes to the pulsing pain in my stomach.Wow.

I pinch my lips together to stop the trembling. I pinch them so hard, my teeth feel like they’ll pierce through the skin at any moment.

“Jess? Your phone is in my cup.” Christoph, my favorite regular, is staring at me like I’ve flown the coop. (Mentally that is.) (And mentally, I have.)

“Oh, shit.” I reach into the scalding hot coffee, burning my fingers as I do. I hiss, then drop my phone on the ground watching the screen fracture.Perfect.

“Maybe you should just take the morning, doll,” Christoph suggests, understanding I’m on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“Yeah, I think I might.”

I pass Marc on his way to the back office, “I need to go, are you okay?” He’s stoned nine times out of ten, but today he isn’t. I feel like I’m leaving the cafe in moderately capable hands.

“Sure, whatever,” he shrugs me off.

I walk out of the cafe in a daze. Broken phone in one hand, the other sort of just lifted up because my fingers are still stinging from the burn, and then I cry. (Snapshot title would be:“Emotionally Unstable Woman Cries in the City.”) (It would be accurate.)

I cry the whole walk up to my mother’s home to go relieve a nanny (who makes more money than me) because I might still be a little bit in love with someone who once called me a “bump in the road.”

Britain

Hi, how are you doing?

It’s been a couple weeks, everything alright?

Jesssssss

THIRTEEN

Jess

At 8:30, I buzz Marian, our nanny, up. Eden’s been fed and dressed so, logically, I should really think about doing the same. I look down at my coffee-stained AGOLDE jeans and shrug, throwing on a baggy Cuzco’s Cafe t-shirt, socks and a pair of Birks. (That would be Birkenstocks, not Birkins.) (This is my life now.) (For the record, I could never afford a Birkin before, but it’s fun to dream.)

I unlock and open the door, but instead of my 60-year-old nanny, my green-eyed, cute-as-a-button pregnant best friend stands in her place, carrying a drink holder and a Levain bag.

“Oh, thank god!” she says, sounding relieved, reaching out and hugging me, drink holder and bag still in hands. She walks past me, setting everything down on my eat-in table, then immediately picks up her phone.

“Yeah, she’s here, we’re good. I’ll call when I’m ready to be picked up.” Pause. “Love you, too.”Liam, I’m sure.

“What are you doing here?” I turn from where I’m still standing by the door.

“Are you kidding me right now?” she asks, almost sounding pissed at me. “I thought something happened to you. And Eden’s birthday is this weekend.” Time flies when you’re wallowing in pity, but forced to survive because you’re a single mom. Thanksgiving is next week.Fuck me.

“My phone broke.”

“And….?”

I shrug. The truth is that I just don’t care. She looks around at the small kitchen. Dishes piled on the counter. Dead plants in the window. Coffee that may or may not be growing mold in the pot. “Okay. I had no idea things were this bad.Alexa, stop playing Sad Girl Starter Pack.” Brit says into the void of the kitchen. Alexa just replies, “Okay,” and the music stops.