Page 86 of Some Sort of Crazy (Happy Crazy Love 2)
She tilted her head. “You will figure it out. Be strong, be brave, be open to all possibilities. Everything you vant is there for you to find.”
Everything I vant.
Right.
• • •
On my way home, I picked up the phone and called Jillian. Skylar was too happy in love to appreciate my misery. I needed someone who would abet it. Someone who would agree with me that love was hopeless and no one knew what they were doing. Someone to tell me men were clueless apes who didn’t understand anything. Someone who would commiserate with me on my desolate future and let me wallow.
“Natalie?”
“Hi.”
“Everything OK?”
“No. Everything is terrible.”
“Are you home? I’m coming over.”
“I’ll meet you there in fifteen.”
Half an hour later, she walked in and found me curled up on the couch. “Hey. How are you feeling?”
“Shitty.” I sat up and put both hands on my stomach. “But I decided to have the baby.”
“You did?” She sat down and threw her arms around me. “That’s so exciting! To keep?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “Probably. Once I start a project, I don’t like to give up on it.”
She laughed ruefully. “True.”
“I just went and had a psychic reading from Madam Psuka.”
“Shut up. Did you really? Why?”
I threw my hands up. “Because I’m confused! My life is a wreck! It’s turning out to be nothing like what I thought it would be, and I’m totally lost. I was hoping she’d tell me what I’m supposed to do!”
“And did she?”
“No,” I said angrily. “She just gave me a bunch of nonsense about being more flexible and brave and seeing things that aren’t there.”
Jillian sighed. “Sorry, kiddo. I wish I could help. Hey, are you hungry?”
“I was before. But then I wasn’t.”
She stood up. “You need nourishment. Let me get you something to eat.”
“I just said I wasn’t hungry.”
“Doesn’t matter. Your body needs sustenance.” She gave me the look. “Now come in the kitchen and talk to me.”
I followed her into the kitchen, and while she rummaged in the fridge and fiddled with the microwave I sat at the table and ranted about men and apes and cluelessness and misery. She let me go on for about ten minutes, nodding and clucking her tongue in sympathy.
“I hear you.” She set a bowl of chicken noodle soup down in front of me, along with an orange and a glass of milk. “So I take it Miles was a jerk about the baby?”
“No, not a jerk exactly.” I picked up the spoon and poked at some noodles. “Not a jerk at all, I guess.”
She sat down and looked at me, perplexed. “What did he say?”
