59. Birdie

Confession: Potato chips are my comfort food.

I walked down the sidewalk to Mara's house, holding Ralphie's cage in my arms. Before I even reached the front door, I saw the curtains fall back and the door open. Mara came rushing out.

"They fired you?"

Tearfully, I nodded.

She took Ralphie's cage, setting it on the ground, then pulled me into a tight hug. "Let's put Ralphie inside, and then we're going out."

I stepped back, looking at her in shock. "Go out? All I feel like doing is lying in my bed and crying. And then maybe drawing some circles around want ads."

"There will be time for both of those things."

We carried Ralphie inside, then went outside to her pickup. My body was so numb I didn't have it in me to argue. It didn't matter whether I was in the guest bed at Mara's place or riding in her pickup—I'd still lost my job. Still lost the man I loved.

Holy shit. I loved him. I cradled my head in my hands. That made everything so much worse.

"Aren't you even curious where we're going?" she said.

I shrugged. "Where are we going?"

"The store—I thought we could get some snacks and then hang out on the beach."

That didn't sound terrible. "Maybe I can pick up a job application at the store."

She reached across the truck and hit my arm. "You're going to find an even better job where they'll let you date who you want to date."

"That's not even all of it," I said, tears stinging my eyes. "They said I ‘didn't present the professional look expected at Emerson Academy.'"

Her mouth fell open. "That place is toxic, Birdie. You're good to get out of there."

"And what about you?" I asked. "I can't get an apartment if I don't have income."

"You'll find something. There are a million jobs out there."

"And only five local high schools."

"See?" she said. "That's five chances! And you don't have to start as a counselor. I'm sure there are other jobs in a school you're qualified for."

I knew she was trying to cheer me up, but honestly, I felt as lost as a beach ball floating away in the ocean. Who was I without my job? Without my students?

Even though I knew we were wrong for each other, a small part of me wished Dax had never cheated on me. That I could have gone home to him, fallen in his arms, and had him kiss the top of my head.

My eyes widened. How could I have forgotten? This was supposed to have been our wedding weekend. Instead, I was a homeless, jobless, single wreck.

Although I offered to wait in the truck, Mara insisted I come into the store with her. We went down the snack food aisles, grabbing chips and candy and frosting and pretty much anything that would help me feel even a little bit better.

Once we had three grocery bags full, we got back in her truck and stopped by her house to change. I talked to Ralphie, who was sitting in his cage on the dresser, as I put on my high-waisted bikini bottoms and full-coverage top.

"We're going to the beach. I don't see us being gone long though. Mara started a new project, and she's on a deadline. I'll be back, lying in here and watching TV with you before you know it—just like old times."

From across the hallway, Mara called, "If you're done talking to your bird, I'm ready to go now."

"His name is Ralphie," I called back, picking up my sunhat, then I waved goodbye to Ralphie and followed her back out to the car.

We drove to the beach and laid out our towels in the usual spot. Even though it was fall, it was still warm in the sunlight. The water was getting colder, but that didn't matter. I didn't plan to swim.

In fact, I realized, I didn't have any plans at all. I closed my eyes, thinking of my next steps. I needed to apply for jobs, of course. I'd look at all the local high schools and see if I could slide into an open position there. If one existed. Then maybe I could try for administrative jobs at other places that served teens. I used to work as a barista in college—I could do that to get by until I had a new permanent role.

Or maybe I could move, I thought.

There had to be a rural town somewhere looking for a guidance counselor. I could get a fresh start, away from my family, away from this place that held so many memories for me.

But that would mean leaving my best friend too.

I opened my eyes and looked over at her. She lay on her stomach, reading a paperback.

My mouth fell open at what I saw past her on the beach. "Fuck," I hissed.

Mara's eyes widened as she looked at me. "I know you're upset, but—"

"No, no, look," I said, nodding toward the couple walking along the shore.

"Is that... Dax?" Mara asked.

"Yes!" I frantically rolled the chip bag shut and shoved it underneath my towel. Then I brushed off my chest, making sure there weren't any greasy crumbs there.

"You look great," she said. "You can hardly even tell that you've been crying."

"Great," I muttered. Of course I had to see Dax on the worst day of my life. But what I saw beside him was even worse.

The girl he'd left me for had a baby bump. It was obvious by the dress she wore. She had to be at least in her second trimester...

Dax and I had only broken up a couple months ago. She'd been wearing an oversized dress then...

"Is she..." Mara asked, not even finishing the sentence.

I nodded slowly, because they were close now, and Dax had seen us.

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, but he said, "Hi, Beatrice, Mara."

"It's Birdie," I said, my words coming out like venom. He had never called me that before. It was like looking at a complete stranger.

His new girl looked from him to me. "How do you two know each other?" His new girl clearly didn't recognize me, and that hurt even more. I wasn't just disposable; I was forgettable.

My lips parted, but what was there to say?

Beside me, Mara said, "He fucked her over and hung her out to dry." She got up and grabbed her towel and bag. "Come on, Birdie. We're getting out of here."

I stood, numbness threatening to slide over me and keep me from speaking, keep me from feeling, but I wasn't ready to leave yet. A look of recognition crossed her face, but Dax only seemed... uncomfortable.

I'd thought of what I'd say if I ever met him again, but frankly, all of it fell short in reality. All I really needed to say was, "Thank you."

Confusion overtook his features. "Thank you?"

I nodded. "Thank you for sparing me a lifetime of being disappointed by you."

With my head held high, I picked up my towel and followed Mara to the truck, where I promptly broke down and cried.