Page 169 of Rock Bottom Girl

Best of all, I felt like I’d finally given Culpepper something new to remember about me. I’d replaced Homecoming 1998 with a fresh, bright, happy memory. And an old wound in me healed.

With good things finally flowing my way, I funneled my energy into that damned resume. I was embarrassed that I hadn’t touched it since I showed up on Mom and Dad’s doorstep this summer. My future would not plan itself. I needed a fresh resume and some new job prospects.

“Don’t you think it’s weird to lead with a temporary position?” I asked Zinnia over the phone, admiring my cranberry sparkle toes.

“I think a temporary position that shows leadership capabilities and the ability to make an impact is more interesting than a four-month hole,” my sister said, crunching down on a carrot stick. Part of her macrobiotic cleanse she was doing leading up to Thanksgiving.

“Good point. Okay. Gym teacher and soccer coach,” I said as I typed.

“Physical education instructor,” Zinnia corrected.

I deleted, retyped.

“Have any job listings caught your eye?” she asked me.

I hated to admit it, but I hadn’t even looked. Between Jake and soccer, my free time had dwindled down to nonexistent. I was either cooking in Jake’s kitchen, naked in Jake’s bed, jogging after Jake’s sweaty ass, brushing up on new coaching and gym class ideas, or spending time with my parents and Vicky.

“Nothing yet,” I fibbed. “But I’m casting a pretty wide net, so I’m sure I’ll find something appealing.” Whether that “something” would even consider me as a candidate was another story.

“Mmm,” Zinnia said, crunching another carrot stick. “So listen, I’ll be home for Thanksgiving.”

I perked up. “You will?” With jobs as important as hers and Ralph’s, we usually only got a weekend after Christmas visit from them. And then they were so exhausted from work, their 10,000 child activities, and their holiday social obligations, they weren’t much fun.

“Yeah. I’m taking some time off.”

I narrowed my eyes. The only time my sister took time off was for their annual 10-day family trip to Disney and her week-long, kid-free European shopping spree or butler-ed all-inclusive Caribbean vacay. She didnottake time off for the holidays.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yes. Everything is fine. I just thought it would be nice for the whole family to be together. I haven’t told Mom yet,” she said. “I wanted to figure out the arrangements first so she wouldn’t try to set up air mattresses in the hallway again. I’ll look at hotels tomorrow while the kids are with their music tutors.”

“You don’t need a hotel.” My parents would be horrified if one of their children came home and stayed in a hotel.

“Marley,” Zinnia sighed. “I’m not sleeping on a couch. I have a bad back from summiting Mount Rainier last year. And I’m not asking you to do it either. We’re too old for that.”

I clicked into the Airbnb calendar. “Look. I just checked the calendar. No one is renting the room over Thanksgiving. You and Ralph can have your old room, the kids can stay in mine, and I can stay with Jake.” I was there most nights anyway. It wouldn’t be a big deal.

“Wow. Things are really getting serious with you two, aren’t they?” she asked.

“Uh. No. We just like hanging out. Having fun.” I was majorly crushing on the man. “I’ve got some stuff already there,” I continued. Like all of my laundry and half of my cosmetics.

That didn’t define serious. Sure, we were somewhere gray and fuzzy between fake relationship and long-term fling. I was having fun and didn’t really feel up to defining it. We both knew the score though. I would be leaving after Christmas. We would part as friends. I would flit off to a new, important job somewhere exciting. And Jake would find the woman of his dreams.

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.”