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“I don’t know,” I mumble.
Ever since my date with Josh last week, it’s been torture. Every day, every hour, every minute. It was already hard before, but the intensity has reached new levels. I’m not sleeping. I have to force myself to eat. I have headaches, stomach cramps, dizzy spells. The promise of love that felt so sweet before now makes me sick to my stomach. Sick because I’m so hungry. Sick because I can’t have what I want.
The worst thing? There’s nothing I can do about it, except wait. Helplessly. And while feeling helpless in Josh’s embrace in the hot tub was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life, this other kind of helplessness is definitely the worst.
“It’s a roller coaster of emotions, for sure,” murmurs Zoe comfortingly. “But it’s worth it, right? For the chance at a happy ending?”
For once, there’s not a ready yes on my lips.
Thankfully, Zoe doesn’t expect an answer. She rubs my back with a few vigorous motions, and I know she thinks she’s bucking up my spirits.
But I’m spiraling. What does it mean that I’m not totally sure this is worth it? Love is a possibility, sure, but this week, I’m seeing that pain is much more likely. What was I made for, really? Love, or heartbreak? Josh, or entertainment?
I want to see Andy. I want him to look me in the eye and, if he can’t tell me this is going to be okay, at least tell me why the very thing I was made to do feels like hell.
“This is my purpose,” I say to Zoe. My voice cracks. “Without Josh, I’m...” I can’t even complete the sentence. Nothing?
She tsks. “I get you. This is so intense, right? And the feelings are real. But Josh can’t be your only purpose, Julia. That’s...unhealthy!”
“What other purpose do you want me to have? My platform? Follower counts?” I make quote marks with my fingers. “My ‘postshow sponsorship opportunities’?”
I’m not totally oblivious to the talk in the house. One girl even tried to start a conversation with me in the bathroom about the two of us teaming up to “co-brand.”
“Julia!” Zoe actually sounds a little hurt. “You know I’m not here for that. I’d love to end up with Josh. It’s my dream! But I know God has me on this earth for more than just Josh, and I’m not talking about all that other crap.” She pokes my arm. “God has you here for a reason, too. Really! I believe that!”
I don’t answer. In this moment, she and I might as well be on different planets. I’m a Synth. Andy made me for this show, for this man. Is there anything for me beyond Josh?
Still snuggled against Zoe, my fingers find the ridge of my collarbone under my sweatshirt. I dig them into the crevice above it, like I’m trying to find an anchor in myself, but instead find only fragile bone.
“I’m really hoping we get to go out on the water,” Cam is saying in answer to some question, and then there’s screaming and frantic waving; Josh is walking in. We all remain seated as instructed, but as voices and kissy sounds strain toward him, I tuck myself deeper into the couch.
He’s in tie-dye swimming trunks and a blue sleeveless shirt that hangs loose, highlighting the bulk of his arms. At the sight of him, I can feel a warm spot on the small of my back where the memory of his hands has left a mark, like prints on wet cement.
“Good morning, ladies!” he says when everyone has calmed down. His eyes sweep. They don’t pause on anyone until Cam. “Well, I’d love to stay and chat with all of you, but—” he stretches out his hands “—I believe this lovely lady and I have a date.”
Cam swings her hips as she walks toward him. It’s impossible to miss how stunningly gorgeous she is. How luscious her dark hair, how enticing her dramatic curves. As her hands tangle with Josh’s, I can’t bear to watch, but I can’t look away either. None of us can.
They look so perfect together. She’s shorter than me, so when their arms go around each other, her head ends up tucked neatly under Josh’s chin. They waltz off. The girls’ cries follow them—mostly “have a good time!” with one sarcastic “break a leg” from New York.
And then, they’re gone.
The energy in the room plummets, like Christmas just died. Zoe makes straight for the champagne. “Mimosas?” she offers.
I go back to bed. There’s a mush in my head about Josh and purpose and what happens if I fail at the one thing I was created to do. The heaviness spreads, thickening to a sludge. My eyes slip closed.
It’s getting dark when I finally emerge from my bedroom. The kitchen is messier than I’ve ever seen it, with the remains of what I imagine to be dinner strewn about—eggshells in the sink, plates piled on the counter, frying pans abandoned on the stove with unidentifiable burnt remains.
Everyone is out back by the pool, so I head to the front porch. No one ever hangs out here, but there’s a swing and a couple high-backed rattan chairs. The porch is open at the sides, with a view of the hillside covered in sagebrush and milkweed. The air is balmy and the sky a deep dark blue, marked by the bright dots of distant planes making their lonely treks across the sky.
I drag a chair to the edge of the porch so that it’s facing the beautiful California landscape. With my feet tucked under me, I take in the view. I should eat something. Interact with someone. But I can’t seem to move, even when the last light of the day has died and there’s only the soft porch light to see by. I track the movements of a moth. It can’t seem to stay away from one of the lights. Go, I want to tell it. Go far away. There’s nothing for you here.
And then, there’s a sound. A purr. The engine of a car. I hold absolutely still. My chair is angled away, but...will I be spotted?
Car doors open.
“Ow,” I hear, followed by laughter. It’s Cam. I can’t believe I slept the entire time she was with Josh. I wonder if a bird pooped on her shoulder.
“Careful. Easy there.” A male voice. Josh.
