Page 77 of Bless This Hot Mess

“Shh!! I see her coming up the walkway,” Ronald whispered, peering through the glass, his shoulders a tidy and appealing geometry in a fitted varsity jacket with a large letter R over his heart. He was compact and athletic, with a dimple that showed up like a plot twist, and the easy balance of someone who could do a layup while reciting the Nicene Creed (now that he knew it by heart). He ran back to Carrington’s desk whisper-shouting amidst a scurry of feet and a ruffle of fabrics, “Everyone hide!”

“Ronald! Scooch! You’re stepping on my crinoline,” Carrington hissed through a smile.

“Sorry!” Ronald shuffled, all contrition and dimples in high-tops.

“Would you two shush?” Japheth stage whispered. “You’ll ruin the surprise!”

The doors opened and Rebekkah stepped into the lobby–cheeks pink from the morning walk, a butter-yellow blouse tucked into a tulip-hem sage skirt, kitten heels that made tiny church-mouse sounds on the Teletubby tiles. Her ponytail, glossy and high, showed off a volume and wavy length that pop divas would pay a pretty penny for in extensions.

She paused, like a small, expectant animal in a new clearing and glanced around nervously. When Rebekkah was nervous, she folded her hands at her sternum as if steadying a hymnbook; she did that now.

“Hello? Carrington? Suwarna? Anyone?” Rebekkah called, her voice casting out and then reeling back to her as an eerie echo in the empty space. She took a few more tentative steps and then paused, “Hello? Hello! HELL-O-O-O!”

Suddenly she fell to her knees, her eyes widening, “Oh my… oh no! Thiscan’tbe happening. I’ve been LEFT BEHIND! Jesus! JESUS!! Youforgot me! I’m still here!!”

“SURPRISE!” Everyone shouted, popping up from behinda plastic hydrangea, the photo copier, and behind Carrington’s desk.

“It’s okay!” Japheth cried, popping up like a prairie dog in a topaz lamé blazer. He scurried from behind the desk, already halfway to her, hands out like a flight attendant demonstrating oxygen masks. “Rebekkah, you’re okay!”

“SURPRISE! SURPRISE! SURPRISE!” Ronald overcommitted, as was his brand.

“Surprise…” Carrington took one look at Rebekkah and winced. She was now crumpled like a broken doll doing an unlimber yoga child’s pose on the lobby floor. “Is she… is she okay?”

Emma-Lou pulled a paper bag from her purse and ran it over to Rebekkah whose breath was coming quick and shallow. She handed it to the birthday girl with encouragement, “Breathe into this. Nice and slow. Deep breaths. Stay with us.”

Suwarna clocked Emma-Lou who gave a little shrug, “I’ve built myself a worst-case-scenario kit. Several, actually. I keep one in the car, one in my office, one in my purse, one…”

“Rebekkah, it’s alright,” Japheth interrupted as he soothed his friend, rubbing a hand gently on her back. “That’s right, just breathe. No one raptured without you. We’re all right here. Surprise!”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Rebekkah gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “I thought… I thought that maybe I didn’t get beamed up because I stole smelly erasers from Malorie Wilson in second grade art class? You know the ones that smell like strawberries? And… and… I’ve never toldanyonethat. It’s really been weighing on my soul! I am so sorry Malorie Wilson!”

“We’re all right here, and I’m sure Malorie Wilson has forgotten and certainly forgiven her missing erasers. Very few peopleuse pencils anymore. I think you can let that one go,” Japheth consoled her.

“And happy thirtieth birth…” Ronald began, dimple doing its damnedest.

“Ronald! Twentieth!” Rebekkah snapped, mortified.

“Umm… right?” Ronald blinked.

“Right!” Rebekkah insisted.

“So right. Yup, that’s gotta be right,” Ronald said, recalibrating with a shrug that tried to appear casual but nonetheless looked stressed.

“I don’t think that’s right…” Carrington calculated, eyebrows doing the math.

“Definitely seems wrong,” Suwarna said, clinical as a census in her assessment.

“Itlookswrong,” Carrington added, head tilted, stylist’s gaze comparing and considering the ages of the stars in the pages of the tabloids they devoured against the specimen splayed on the tile before them.

“Maybe not wrong, but certainly inconclusive?” Suwarna mused. “I’m just thinking back to yourNot Short on Talenttalent show entry form. Carrington, do you still have the entry forms? I seem to remember her birth year as…”

“Let’s all just take a breath,” Japheth cut in, palms windmilling around Rebekkah protectively. “Abigbreath and then Rebekkah can blow out her candles!”

“All thirty of them,” Carrington said, perfectly pleasant and without a hint of malice. They were after all, just relaying the facts.

“I am notthirty!!” Rebekkah barked.

“Did I miss one? Should it be thirty-one?” Carrington asked, always ready to help.