44

C H A P T E R 2
J E N N A
I hated checking my mailbox. Nothing but bills, bills, and more bills. Sometimes, if I was lucky, there would be a fist full of junk mail crammed inside. Junk mail was nice because I could just throw it out without a thought. I didn’t even have
to read it.
I longed for the days when I didn’t have to worry about paying anything. I would just look for something with my name on it, maybe a letter from my Grandma with a five or ten dollar bill slipped in. More than anything, I wanted to go back to when the mail didn’t bring me dread.
Instead, I was stuck in the first couple days of the month with the arrival of bills looming over me. I was often reminded how close to the poverty line I lived. I was already ninety days behind on some things that I could let skate by for a month. Or two. Or three…
The credit card people just loved when I let my payments slip past the ninety-day due limit. I was forced to pay more in late fees and interest than my original bills. It was mind- boggling that a five-dollar lunch would cost me a hundred dollars or more just because I used my credit card.
I sometimes felt as if I was cursed forever, forced to incur the weight of bills and the wrath of my mother.
No use prolonging the pain of anticipation. I opened my mailbox and let out a groan of frustration. More bills. Maybe I should become a psychic? I could always tell when those letters from Satan would arrive.
I grabbed the envelopes and made my way upstairs to my studio apartment. I would have to make time to actually sit down and focus. A thousand different thoughts were trapped inside my head, and I couldn’t decide what to focus on first.
My bills might have been a good place to start, but I couldn’t handle that at the moment. Not with my sister’s wedding right around the corner and my mother constantly breathing down my neck.
“You’ll never be able to make a living ofl interior design, Jenna.”
I felt as if her main purpose in life was to crush my dreams.
The concept board I had just started sat on my mess of a table. My client was a bachelor who wanted his apartment made into a “sick man cave”. While I wasn’t a fan of his vision, I wouldn’t make a fuss. His idea of a cool place helped me pay my bills. I just wished he’d stop flirting with me. Every time I stepped into his apartment, he’d followed me like an unwanted shadow. I could feel his leering stare burn holes into my back.
But I wouldn’t allow an immature dickhead to deter me from fulfilling my dreams. I needed a portfolio to be successful, and doing the actual work was the only way to build one.
My ass barely began to settle when a loud siren on my phone jolted me. I groaned into my hands and took a deep breath
through my slightly stuffy nose. The siren was the ringtone I set for my ever-loving mother.
Why a siren? It fit all too well when you considered all the drama caused by my sister’s upcoming wedding. My mother and sister shared the same pastime: driving me to drink. I had to give myself a bit of pep talk before I picked up my phone. I’d already been assaulted by their persistent nagging about the wedding so much that I often wanted to jump off the balcony of my apartment.
With dread in the pit of my belly, I picked up my phone and swiped the answer call button. “Hello?”
“JENNA?”
“Hi, Mom.”
“You have to go pick up your bridesmaid dress for your sister’s wedding today.”
“My day’s going swell Mom, thanks for asking.” An awkward silence filled the air, just like it always did when I used my usual sarcastic remarks. I raised an eyebrow when her words processed. “Wait a minute. They told me it’d be ready next week. It’s done already?”
Jessica’s wedding was in a week, and my heart raced with anxiety every time I thought about it. I’d wondered if PTSD after weddings was a thing. I could have sworn I was losing hair and years off my life from the whole ordeal.
The most recent rain of fire came about after I discovered my hideous bridesmaid dress no longer fit me due to unplanned inches shed in my waist and hips. Believe me when I say I was not complaining. Unfortunately for me, my sister
certainly cared. She had always been a control freak and constantly badgered me about my dress and threw a fit because it meant I had to get my dress altered so close to her big day. In all honesty, she probably hated that she hadn’t shed the pounds, but I wasn’t going to bring that up to Bridezilla.
Jess and I came from a well-off family, grew up in the prominent community of Great Neck, Long Island, but sadly our upbringing was the extent of what we had in common.
Even before we were a twinkle in our parent’s eyes, they were moderately wealthy. My father was a very shrewd real estate investor and had made a pretty penny that kept my mother and sister in designer dresses and handbags. I, on the other hand, didn’t want to be beholden to my father’s wealth.
Since our teenage years, I’d prided myself in being an independent woman. I held down more than one job to pay my personal expenses and the same when I paid my way through the Pratt Institute for interior design. Honestly, I took pride in proving I could, even when it aggravated my mother to no end. In her eyes, I was being foolish for not taking money from my parents to use for myself. However, the thought of living off my parent’s wealth made me feel weak and opportunistic and that wasn’t how I wanted to live. I couldn’t respect myself doing that.
My grandmother, Susie, was my inspiration in more ways than I could count. I gained my sense of independence through sheer osmosis of being around her. Jessica, however, was too busy with her nose stuck in her Barbie Dream Home, but I always listened attentively when Grandma talked about women needing to fend for themselves. She had been widowed at a very young age and had independence thrust
on her. Regardless, she loved making everything around her beautiful, and that hobby became the seed that grew my own passion for interior design. My grandma was granted a sum of money after my granddad’s tragic death, and she wisely invested the money into various assets to support her six children. She loved to create an environment where her children and grandchildren could enjoy time together. I recalled our Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays filled with ambiances that caused jaws to drop, all thanks to Grandma Susie’s hours of labor.
“Yes, your dress was finished just this morning. You’ll have to make sure it fits ok and bring it home. But make sure it’s put away safely. I don’t want to see any paint or spackle or whatever you use on that dress.”
“I know, Mother. I’ll be sure to get it after I finish what I’m working on.”
“Okay, good.” There was a beat of silence, and I felt a bead of anxiety well inside me. “And Jenna, don’t forget our deal.”
I sighed and massaged the bridge of my nose. “Mother…”
“Let me finish, Jenna.” Her voice was curt, and my dread worsened. “Your father and I previously agreed that we’d follow through on your grandmother’s dying wish to pass down her apartment in the city as your business studio once you turned twenty-eight, but—”
She paused for dramatics. I pictured her sharp features unshaken as she spoke, ever cold in her delivery of news, good or bad.
“Your sister and I want you to bring a date with you to the wedding.”
I fought back a groan of annoyance. I should have known something like this would happen. My mother knew how important Grandma Susie was to me, and she had the nerve to hold the future studio over my head. Never mind the fact I was an adult and could take her to court for breaking the law, but she knew I’d never do that. Mostly because I couldn’t afford to.
I rolled my eyes and pursed my lips. I could feel the beginning of a headache. “I’m probably not gonna be able to swing that.” I hated to admit it because it showed weakness in front of a predator. “I don’t know anyone I could I ask on such short notice.”
Without missing a beat, Mother said, “Well then, I guess you won’t get your dear apartment. If you want it, you must bring a date.”
She hung up without a goodbye, and I scowled at my phone as if my mother’s picture were on it. That really wasn’t the way I wanted to end our conversation. I placed my phone on the table and looked at the time. It was close to eleven and I wanted to scream. I had so much to do today and the damned shop Mother made me take the dress to closed at five-thirty.
I picked up my phone again and dialed Sara’s number. Sara Mills had been my best friend for years. We met senior year of high school when she moved into the district and had been extremely close ever since.
“Hey!” Sara answered her phone on the second ring. Her voice was cheerful as ever and brought a grin to my face.
“Hey Sara.” I got off my chair and meandered around my apartment. “Do you want to go to the mall with me?” I grabbed my wallet off the counter and took my keys off the hook by the door. I still had things to do at home, but I
wouldn’t be able to focus with the thought of the dress looming over my head.
“What’s up?” she sounded concerned when she heard the tone of my voice.
“My mother, but what else is new?” “What did she do this time?”
“She’s holding Grandma Susie’s apartment over my head to get me to do what she wants,” I grumbled.
“What the hell? You know she can’t do that legally, right?”
“I do, but she knows I don’t have the money to take her to court.”
“Ugh. What does she want you to do?”
“I have to bring a date to Jessica’s wedding.” “But the wedding is so close!”
I snatched my favorite purse off my couch and nodded. I put my wallet in the purse and walked to the door.
“I know, Sara. Believe me, I do. And I don’t know anyone to take.” I sighed as I unlocked the door and walked out, locking it behind me. “My grandmother’s apartment is so important to me. We always talked about it becoming my dream studio.” I grouched as I headed for the stairs, “Mom hates the fact that I’ve always refused money from her and Dad but would accept Grandma’s city apartment. She doesn’t understand. She never did. And now, I’m gonna be so fucked if I can’t find a date.”
“I wish I had a brother to lend you.”
I laughed as I rounded the first bend in the stairwell. “I wish you did too, but I’ll figure it out. By the way, you never answered my question.”
“What? Oh - mall! Of course!”
“Wanna pick me up? I don’t really have extra money for a cab and I really don’t want to walk.”
“On it. Gimme a solid ten minutes and we’ll be cruising to the mall.”
“Thanks. I really didn’t wanna go alone.” “Think nothing of it. I’ll be right over.”
I clicked the end call button and grinned as stepped into the main lobby of the apartment complex. I lived on the third floor, and though we had an elevator that worked, it always made me nauseous, so I just used the stairs. Plus, all the walking made my legs look great.
There was a little lounge area in the lobby, and I took a seat. I wouldn’t have to wait too long for Sara. She lived close and drove like a madwoman and texted me not even five minutes after we hung up. I could only hope the tra c wasn’t too horrendous. I walked out front with my purse draped across my torso and spotted Sara’s beat up purple 2010 Ford Fusion.
I waved and hustled over to the car, climbing in and buckling up.
“Ready to go?” Sara asked with a grin.
I nodded. “I just want to get this over with.”
“Valid, now letsa go!” Sara did a poor Mario impression and pulled out of the parking lot.