I awoke early, nerves frayed from anxiety. I jogged, cleaned, and gardened to busy myself, but I was too anxious and needed to speak with Billie immediately. At an appropriate hour, I raced to San Myshuno. She looked well. So many of the women in my life have looked amazing in their elder days. I hope the stress looming at my door doesn’t steal my chance to turn heads at my next birthday party.
I tried to hold it together and not give myself away prematurely, but I couldn’t help it. The secret was like helium in a balloon, and I was ready to pop. It burdened me, and I needed to tell the entire story to someone I trust. Given how I kept everyone at arm’s length, this was a tremendous deal for me.
Not wanting to be rude and crash through Billie’s morning like the wrecking ball I am, I tried to engage in the small talk, inquiring about her wellbeing before ruining her image of me. But she saw the pain in my eyes and insisted I spill the tea. She hadn’t forgotten that afternoon Ali came home upset, slamming doors, and has been waiting for me to confirm or dispel the sneaking suspicions she’s had ever since.
I began my sordid tale with the front-page headline, saying we’re divorcing, and Ali has temporary custody of the children. She didn’t see that coming. After thoroughly shocking her system, I backtracked to the beginning.
“I’ve had this friend since I was a child,” I began.
Dwayne was one of my first friends. Honestly, I don’t recall who I met first, but it was him or Trevor Castillo, Gemma’s twin. As teens, we were close, but never more than friends. I was too busy being entranced by Devonte’s dark magic. And then there was Laurant. I had my hands full and never needed to consider “what if” with Dwayne, despite our magnetic attraction. But then I took him to the jungle and everything changed.
I spoke, and Billie listened. I kept expecting her to interrupt me with her expressions of disappointment and side eyes. It wouldn’t surprise me if she kicked me out. But she just listened. Sometimes that one eyebrow would go up, but I honestly couldn’t tell what she was thinking. It made me nervous, so I kept going. My words rolled out of me like first trimester morning sickness. Despite her secret thoughts, I appreciated her ear. I know I’m guilty and undeserving of anyone’s sympathy. But does that erase my right to be heard? I just want someone to hear me.
