Page 11 (1/2)

“Don’t tell me you love the rain when you don’t stay to watch her dry after she’s fallen for you”

Lauren Eden, Of Yesteryear

For Jennifer, the kindest stranger I ever knew

1

Astaire

It wasn’t supposed to rain today

I stand on the rubber entrance mat inside a bar called Ophelia’s, soaked to the bone, water as cold as January dripping off my wool pea coat in rivulets, toes pinched numb in my pointed heels

The sign for the ladies’ roo to the back of the narrow space, ducking through the swinging doors, and positioning myself in front of the first vacant mirror I find

The instant I encounter aze in the reflection, I know I should have stayed hoht

What kind of person marks the one-year anniversary of their fiancé’s death with a blind date?

A person who can’t say no to anything or anyone—that’s who

Mrs Angelino had good intentions, trying to set o despite every ato for me to tell her the truth … that I’m just not ready

I hang my jacket on a nearby wall hook and return to my station

“Weak” I sla inside for a hairbrush, a hair tie, anything to tame my damp baby-blonde waves “Weak, weak, weak”

I locate a mini wet-brush and a rubber band so stretched it could snap without warning, and then I rakeit at the nape of my neck

When I glance up again, I realize my mascara has settled beneath my lower lash line—not exactly the s