Thirty-Nine
Serafina
My brain hurts, my heart is broken, and my pride is positively shattered. It’s bad enough that Ben is a two-timing man-whore, but he also set out to ruin me at the same time he was wooing me? How could I have fallen for that?
I slam into my apartment like I’m Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, late for my mid-morning grilled chicken feast. Charley is sitting on the couch staring at me, but she wisely sits back and watches me before saying anything.
“Did you see it?” I demand.
She nods her head tentatively, so I ask, “Can you believe it?”
Shoulder shrug.
“I swear to God, first my dating app doesn’t work for crap and then this? This is a debacle of Titanic proportions.” I fall onto the sofa as though my bones have melted. “I’m sunk. My career is over, and my love life remains a non-existent wasteland of sadness.”
“Uh-oh,” Charley mutters.
“What do you mean by that?” I demand harshly.
“I mean that when you allow drama to get the better of you, we’re in for a wild ride.”
“Drama?” I yell. Then repeat, “Drama?! You think I’m being dramatic? You don’t think my reaction is justified?”
She rolls her eyes.
“Charlotte Francesca Jenkins, don’t you dare call me dramatic. I have been run through the wringer of life. I have been treated more harshly than I’ve ever been. My life is a tornado of grief.” Then, as if on cue, sobs erupt from my soul. I cry and snuffle and weep until I’ve exhausted myself. Charley remains silent.
When the buzzer rings announcing a guest, I cover my head with a pillow and declare, “I’m not receiving visitors right now.”
“Oh. My. God,” Charley mutters as she walks to the intercom. “Who is it?” I hear her ask.
“Hey, Charley, it’s Zay.”
She buzzes him up before saying, “I know Your Highness said she wasn’t receiving, but it’s your brother.”
“You’re making fun of me,” I pout.
“Glad you noticed. I feel for you, Sera, I do. You’re just being so melodramatic about this. It’s not like you guys were in love or anything.”
I don’t answer her or make eye contact, which has her asking, “Were you?”
I remain silent.
Charley demands, “Was it rom-com insta-love? Oh, Sera, that’s the best! I’ve got to tell you that if that’s what it is, then you and Ben are still going to wind up together. How exciting!”
“As if. There’s no way on earth I can ever forgive that man for what he’s done to me. He … he … he ran a harpoon straight into my heart!” I release another anguished sob.
Charley jumps up when the doorbell rings and lets in Zay, who walks straight toward me carrying a bakery box and a grocery bag. “We’d best commence phase one,” he declares.
“Phase one?” Charley asks.
Nodding his head, my brother tells her, “When Sera has a broken heart, she requires copious amounts of sweets and comfort items.”
“Too much will knock her off balance,” Charley warns.
“It’s how she rolls. First, she’ll overindulge to the point of making herself sick. Then she’ll go so far in the opposite direction that she’ll eschew all things she loves as punishment, and finally the scales will balance out and she’ll be back to normal.” He feels the need to add, “You know, as normal as she can be.”
“Wow,” Charley says. “Does this happen often?”
“This will only be the fifth time since she’s graduated from college.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not even here!” I yell. Then I open the box full of donuts and take one in each hand.
Charley looks at me with surprise registered on her face. “You’re going to double-fist it?”
With my mouth full, I tell her, “Yup, not only that, I’m not going to stop until I’ve consumed six donuts.” Then I ask Zay, “Did you bring a can of whipped cream?” When he nods his head, I tell him, “Grab it and spray some on my donuts, will you?”
“I’ve never seen you like this,” Charley says. “I feel like I should help you somehow.”
“If you want to help, make me a cup of hot chocolate and call down to the Surrey Diner and order two family-size french fries with extra ranch.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not going to enable you.”
“What are you, forty?” I practically snarl. “I’m going to get what I want whether you help me or not, so you’d better just earn your pay and do what I tell you to do.”
Charley stands as still as a statue. Before she can click into gear, my brother says, “Aside from aiding you in your grief process, Ser, I’ve brought news for Charley.” Then he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a newspaper and hands it to her. “Your article came out today.”
Charley grabs it so fast I barely see her hands move. “I didn’t think it was coming out until next week.”
“It wasn’t supposed to, but The Post had to pull another article and they put yours in its place. You even got a better slot. They put you on the first page of the People section right next to Kim Kardashian.”
“What?” Charley rips the paper open before falling into a bean bag chair. She reads quietly for a minute before reciting, “According to fellow Mathlete Jacob Fein, Charley Jenkins is one cool chick.” Charley drops the paper in her lap before flailing her arms and screaming like she’s being attacked by a swarm of bees.
“Isn’t Jacob Fein ‘Hunky Pants McHottiestein’?” I ask her. At my brother’s questioning look, I explain, “Just the most studly math nerd at Eleanor Falls Academy.”
“He’s a senior,” Charley interjects. “We had the same advanced calculus class, but he never even looked at me, let alone spoke to me. I can’t believe he said I was cool.” She picks the paper up again and reads while giving us the highlights. The principal said she was a tribute to private school education, and Tiffany Connor — head cheerleader and mean girl extraordinaire — said that she always thought Charley should be a model, and that some girls felt threatened by her because she’s so smart and beautiful, but not Tiffany (who apparently was one of her BFFs and really wishes she were back in the halls of Eleanor Falls).
“Sera, thank you, thank you, thank you for letting me be on Wake Up America! with you and for suggesting this article.” Then she turns to Zay and adds, “Please thank Shelby for me for passing the idea on to her mom.”
I stare at my brother and young employee, who have completely forgotten that my life is falling apart at this very moment. They continue to chatter excitedly about the newspaper article, leaving me to fend for myself.
“Fine,” I mutter, even though they clearly aren’t listening. “I’ll just get my own whipped cream.” I grab the can and spray it over all the donuts that are left in the box. Then I turn my attention to eating as many of them as I can, hating myself for not being mature enough to let Charley have her moment in the sun.