Page 24 of The Woman I’ve Become

“I think I’ll lie down for a while.” I continue toward the stairs.

Acacia catches up with me before I reach the stairs, her hand settles on my arm. “Julia, are you sure you’re all right. Last night you seemed very upset, and today you act . . .”

“Like a woman who’s struggling physically and who was just publicly accused of heinous behavior?”

The flicker of regret, real or feigned, in her eyes tells me she wishes she hadn’t said anything.

“I’m fine, really,” I assure her. “I just didn’t sleep well. We’ll talk later. Get Olivia started on her lessons.”

“Sure.” She appears far from convinced but lets it go.

I climb the stairs slowly. I feel her watching me as I go, but I don’t have the energy for the conversation she and I need to have. Maybe in a couple of hours.

I can’t think about that now. Too tired.

In my room, I collapse onto the bed and immediately feel myself floating into that place of nothingness. I am so tired. I need sleep.

I just hope I don’t dream.

Twenty Years Ago

12

Julia

Westport, Connecticut

He told me to meet him at the Starbucks. I have no idea where the hell Wendy was when I tried to find her after the last bell. I wanted to tell her about my rendezvous with Casey. Then there was the issue of getting here. I had to promise the most unlikable girl at school that I would attend her upcoming birthday bash to get a ride. I swear my parents are the worst. Every senior in my class has a car except me. Well, and Wendy. She can’t help it, but it’s not like we can’t afford one.

I toss my now cold latte into the trash and start to pace the parking lot once more. Luckily there’s no one from school—at least no one I know—still here. How humiliating to be stood up like this. It’s now after six o’clock, and Casey still hasn’t shown.

I could die. I would rather die than go home. I’ll just stand out here forever, I guess. My parents think I’m spending the night with a friend. It’s the perfect opportunity for another sleepover with Casey. Damn it! Why is he wasting this opportunity for us to be together?

If I keep circling the parking lot, the manager will probably think I’m a hooker and call the cops. Maybe I’ll just walk home and hide from the world. I look away as yet another car rounds the back of the building heading for the street. I refuse to fake a smile for anyone else or insist I’m okay to the next worried mom fueling up on her fave Frappuccino.

“Need a ride?”

My gaze snaps forward. My jaw drops, and then I laugh. “What the hell?”

Wendy is behind the wheel of an ancient Mercedes. A Mercedes! Hey, it might be old, but it’s a very nice ride. I’m certain it must belong to Colleen, Wendy’s foster mom.

“Colleen is in New Haven for a few days. Her daughter’s having a baby.”

I go for the passenger’s-side door. “And she left you her keys?”

Wendy shrugs. “She left the keys where she always does—hanging by the back door.” She surveys the dash. “It’s an oldie but in mint condition.”

“It’s a ride,” I say. “Who cares about anything else?”

“Where would you like to go?” Wendy beams at me. “I’ll be your chauffeur for the evening.”

“I was supposed to spend the night with him,” I admit, devastated.

“Guys are jerks.” Wendy rolls to the street. “Fucking you one day and ignoring you the next.”

She’s right and I hate her for it.

“I’m thinking how absolutely awesome we are,” she announces with a wicked grin, “and how we need to do something equally awesome.”