On The Run: Part Two

Chapter Twenty-Five - "Maternity & Beyond"

“I know, I know. But Caroline’s been dying to get to know you, and I’d really love for you to get along. I think she could be something special.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Before I forget, Jerry’s here and he’s being his usual persistent self, he wants to throw Chloe’s coming out party next Friday. He says to tell you that if you disagree . . . seriously, Jerry?” He continued, “Basically, he’s saying do or die. You don’t have to, honey. Ignore him. Anyway, eight o’clock tomorrow.”

I shook my head, “Say hi to Jerry.”

“Jerry, Sarah says hi,” he called in the distance, and then said, “Night honey. Love you.”

“Good night, dad. I love you too. See you tomorrow.”

I waited for him to hang up, and then turned to Chloe, who was watching me with a smile on her face.

“What?”

“You’re not mad at him anymore.”

I shrugged, “Was I really ever? I think I overreacted.”

“So . . . a coming out party?”

I shook my head, “No, that’s just Jerry being Jerry. It’s nothing.”

“Is it like a coming out into society thing?”

“Yeah. Elaborate and ultimately about everyone in the room forming an opinion about you. It’s long and it gets boring at a point, but they seem to keep happening, so I guess there must be a result to the madness.”

“Did you have one?”

“I was going to. I was getting ready, then my mom died, and no one really cared anymore. Even Jerry never mentioned it again. That was supposed to be the purpose of cotillion, but then . . . . . things happened and I missed that too.” I flashed a smile and shrugged.

She grimaced, and after a brief silence, she asked,  “What’s the worst that could happen? If I had one.”

I raised a brow, “Are you thinking about it? You want to do it?”

“Why not? What’s the worst that could happen? That’s not a rhetorical question, by the way. I really want to know.”

“Well, people go home saying awful things about you, or the press does. What you’re wearing, how you interacted with them, who you talked to, what the party itself was like. People talk. Word spreads. They talk some more.”

She smiled, “So, it could go one way or another, really.”

I nodded slowly, “Exactly. Are you considering it? If you want to do it, you can. I just assumed you wouldn’t. And I really can’t have you thinking that I’m doing any of this to get ahead. Strategy.” I snorted derisively.

She winced, “I’m sorry. Were you mad?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I was. Cause it’s not fair. I am trying. That’s all I’ve done. Try. And I just felt like everything I had done had been for nothing, because you see it how you want to see it, and there isn’t a thing I can do about it.”

She looked at me with a pained expression. I saw her eyes start to swim with tears. I looked away, “Don’t look at me like that, Chloe. It hurts.”

“I’m really sorry. I don’t think that at all. I guess I just wanted to make sure, but even that . . . I’m sorry, Sarah. You deserve better.”

She looked so pleadingly desperate it tugged at my heart.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t mad for very long. My friend Aubrey came over – remember her from Bergdorf’s? We had mimosas. A mimosa can make your every thought go away.”