couldn't quite buy into all of it. If Beatrice didn't like a handsome guy like that, there was usually a very specific reason, for one.
"Are you just saying this because you couldn't manage to get him to ask you out?" Gwen said.
From the way Beatrice bristled, Gwen thought she knew the answer.
"No! Well, maybe a little. But even so, Gwen, just take it from me: Aiden is bad news. Just forget about him, okay? Don't you have all that rent stuff to worry about? Or don't you remember how that terrible roommate of yours skipped town and left you holding the bill?"
Gwen took her turn at bristling. "Of course!"
The cab pulled up to the curb outside Gwen's building. She and Beatrice hugged, though Gwen couldn't help feeling a bit annoyed with her friend. Before getting stepping out into the cool evening air, she reiterated her intent to pay Beatrice back at some point.
"Don't worry about it, really. Just try and get some sleep. Hey, meet me at Starbucks again tomorrow. I'll bet you'll have a way out of this figured out by then," Beatrice said.
Gwen accepted, but couldn't help feeling guilty. She knew that Beatrice would insist on buying her another latte, but she just couldn't pass it up. Besides, I will pay her back. I will, Gwen thought.
When she got up to her apartment and collapsed onto the bed, barely able to summon the energy to pull off her dress and kick off her shoes, she wondered how many more nights she'd have in that room.
Because, despite her attempts to stay positive, she knew there was no way she could come up with that kind of money. There was only one hope she had left, and it was a small one.
Chapter 5
Gwen woke up planning to call first her mother then her father for help right away. Getting it done first thing was best, she decided. Like yanking off a Band-Aid. Better to do it right away, get it over with, instead of agonizing over the pain it might cause.
Instead, she washed, got dressed in her usual jeans, throwing on a comfy shirt. She actually looked at her phone for a solid minute before the anxiety managed to wash away the vestiges of her resolve.
She just kept thinking about what would happen if they both told her no. Which was a very real and frightening possibility. They were, after all, still in the middle of their divorce. And while they would both like to be able to make the crack at the other that they helped their daughter out of a tight spot, they also both had every last cent they owned tied up in the courts.
So, with the professional procrastinator's attitude of why do now what you can keep putting off until later, Gwen sent Beatrice a text saying she was heading out to Starbucks early, and would see her there.
She knew putting this whole thing off only hurt her, that every minute spent not trying to divine the winning lottery numbers, or searching for that once-in-a-lifetime career opportunity was wasted time. But it just felt so good to keep putting it off, to keep delaying it, to press it back in her mind with the thought of, "I still have time; I'll get to it later." But later always turns out to be sooner than you think. Usually much sooner. Gwen ignored that thought, too.
At Starbucks, she asked for water and then sat down near the corner. Condensation beaded on the plastic cup, forming a wet ring on the table. She wished she'd brought a book, but knew she was far too distracted to give it any measure of attention.
So instead she just watched the people coming in and out. Given that it was a Starbucks, most of the clientele consisted of men and women in business attire toting briefcases, rushing in to get their morning triple-shot non-fat espresso injection. The men usually tried to flirt with the pretty barista, even though they were usually a good ten years older, while the women pretended not to notice how much younger and better looking she was.
For a bit, Gwen got her mind off things by pretending she was one of these women. She thought about having a nice car
"Are you just saying this because you couldn't manage to get him to ask you out?" Gwen said.
From the way Beatrice bristled, Gwen thought she knew the answer.
"No! Well, maybe a little. But even so, Gwen, just take it from me: Aiden is bad news. Just forget about him, okay? Don't you have all that rent stuff to worry about? Or don't you remember how that terrible roommate of yours skipped town and left you holding the bill?"
Gwen took her turn at bristling. "Of course!"
The cab pulled up to the curb outside Gwen's building. She and Beatrice hugged, though Gwen couldn't help feeling a bit annoyed with her friend. Before getting stepping out into the cool evening air, she reiterated her intent to pay Beatrice back at some point.
"Don't worry about it, really. Just try and get some sleep. Hey, meet me at Starbucks again tomorrow. I'll bet you'll have a way out of this figured out by then," Beatrice said.
Gwen accepted, but couldn't help feeling guilty. She knew that Beatrice would insist on buying her another latte, but she just couldn't pass it up. Besides, I will pay her back. I will, Gwen thought.
When she got up to her apartment and collapsed onto the bed, barely able to summon the energy to pull off her dress and kick off her shoes, she wondered how many more nights she'd have in that room.
Because, despite her attempts to stay positive, she knew there was no way she could come up with that kind of money. There was only one hope she had left, and it was a small one.
Chapter 5
Gwen woke up planning to call first her mother then her father for help right away. Getting it done first thing was best, she decided. Like yanking off a Band-Aid. Better to do it right away, get it over with, instead of agonizing over the pain it might cause.
Instead, she washed, got dressed in her usual jeans, throwing on a comfy shirt. She actually looked at her phone for a solid minute before the anxiety managed to wash away the vestiges of her resolve.
She just kept thinking about what would happen if they both told her no. Which was a very real and frightening possibility. They were, after all, still in the middle of their divorce. And while they would both like to be able to make the crack at the other that they helped their daughter out of a tight spot, they also both had every last cent they owned tied up in the courts.
So, with the professional procrastinator's attitude of why do now what you can keep putting off until later, Gwen sent Beatrice a text saying she was heading out to Starbucks early, and would see her there.
She knew putting this whole thing off only hurt her, that every minute spent not trying to divine the winning lottery numbers, or searching for that once-in-a-lifetime career opportunity was wasted time. But it just felt so good to keep putting it off, to keep delaying it, to press it back in her mind with the thought of, "I still have time; I'll get to it later." But later always turns out to be sooner than you think. Usually much sooner. Gwen ignored that thought, too.
At Starbucks, she asked for water and then sat down near the corner. Condensation beaded on the plastic cup, forming a wet ring on the table. She wished she'd brought a book, but knew she was far too distracted to give it any measure of attention.
So instead she just watched the people coming in and out. Given that it was a Starbucks, most of the clientele consisted of men and women in business attire toting briefcases, rushing in to get their morning triple-shot non-fat espresso injection. The men usually tried to flirt with the pretty barista, even though they were usually a good ten years older, while the women pretended not to notice how much younger and better looking she was.
For a bit, Gwen got her mind off things by pretending she was one of these women. She thought about having a nice car
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