Ellie is Cool Now

Chapter 15

When I wake up, my hair is a mess of kinky waves and fuzz from falling asleep with it wet. I'm starving because I realize — to my horror — that I didn't really eat dinner last night. It's well after nine am, and Mark (and Liz) will be here in a little over an hour to pick me up for brunch at Murphy's. My stomach grumbles, and I scowl into the mirror above my vanity. That rat's nest masquerading as hair isn't going to tame itself.

But first, coffee. Just like the memes and the T-shirt Vic wears on laundry day assert.

Mom's in the kitchen, already dressed in khakis and a flouncy blouse, reading one of her trade paperback thrillers and eating a piece of toast. Her eyes travel from the page to me as I bumble through the door.

"You didn't moisturize," she says, squinting over her glasses. "You should never go to bed without moisturizing. I don't care how tipsy you were."

"I wasn't tipsy." Unless you count being drunk on nefarious behavior.

I still haven't texted Vic and Tina back, which makes me feel even shittier since I'm avoiding them on purpose and from shame. They will ask about the list — and Mark, my crush who's supposed to be helping me with it — and I will have to lie through my teeth about everything. And I am not a great liar.

Liz. Her name pops into my head and it immediately feels like a vice tightens around it. How am I going to look her in her spritely features and not spill everything that happened between Mark and me?

It's not like we had wild sex. His words from last night on the phone. Heat floods my cheeks, forming a lump in my throat. I swallow it and pour coffee into my "Unicorns are Real" mug, slumping into the seat across from my mom. I am not doing a very good job of proving I'm not hungover.

She gingerly takes a bite of toast. I can feel her silently judging my every move, while simultaneously wanting to offer advice if only I'd just ask.

Last night was a disaster in all the ways. First, the whole Brock near-assault, vomit-inducing come-on. Then, I kinda sorta crossed number one off the list by giving neanderthal Kyle Temple a kiss on the cheek, but I couldn't even enjoy that tiny triumph because of what happened after with both Mark and Roxy. As much as I hate to admit it, Roxy still gets under my skin. I haven't forgotten what it was like to be friends with her. Despite her she-devil in leather personality, she still manages to look at me in a singular way that reminds me she was one of the only people who actually knew me in high school, who actually liked me.

"Do you ever talk to Maureen?" I ask, taking a sip of my coffee. Its effect on my head is immediate. Some of the fog clears so I can almost start to think coherent thoughts.

Mom and Roxy's mom, Maureen, were friends through most of our adolescence. When Roxy and I had our falling out, they still met up for coffee and gossip, but Mom stopped talking to me about it years ago.

She doesn't close her book when she looks at me, signaling that she doesn't expect this conversation to go very far.

"We see each other every so often, but not like we used to. She's had a lot to deal with lately."

"Like what?" My stomach twists, remembering Roxy's order of straight vodka at the after party last night, remembering the sobriety medallion from the bar dropping like dead weight to the bottom of the trash can.

"No matter how old our kids get, they're still our babies. It's hard to watch them struggle," Mom says, her voice delicate, like this whole topic must be handled with the greatest care. "Maureen has had to watch her daughter endure a lot of struggle."