All the Lies - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,8
do.
“What makes you think that I'll be able to find him or even if I do, that he'll talk to me?” I ask. “He never talks to anybody.”
“You know what, Emma,” Corrin says, tapping her finger on her desk while looking away from me. “You are much more capable than you give yourself credit for. You care about this job very much, so I expect you to do it.”
I don’t know how she does it, but for some reason Corrin is capable of saying the most complimentary things in the most ruthless and off-putting way. Her words are drenched in sarcasm and I know that she doesn’t mean a single thing that she has just said to me.
“Okay,” I say, “I'll get you something by Monday.”
“Great, thanks,” she says with a fake smile. “Oh, by the way,” she adds as I start to walk away from her, “congratulations on your engagement.”
6
Emma
When I get home, I strip off my blouse, pencil skirt, and bra and get into the shower. It feels warm and comforting, but as soon as I turn it off, I know that my day is not over. In fact, it's only just beginning.
I live in a studio apartment in downtown LA in one of those forgotten four-plexus that no one has remodeled in years.
There's no air-conditioning.
The woman who lives below me lives on social security and has five cats.
She likes to play the trumpet around nine o’clock each night, which normally would annoy me, but her cats always let me pet them so I don’t complain.
It's no secret that my parents have a lot of money, but their money is not my money.
Unlike my sisters, I want to live on what I earn, but because I’m a magazine writer in 21st century America, I don't make much.
I stare out the window, looking past the bars at the bleak alleyway outside. There are No Parking signs everywhere and not a single tree in sight.
My block doesn't have many trees at all and that's not uncommon for low-income locations like this one.
In comparison to this place, Alex’s brand new two-bedroom condo overlooks a park square, with mature landscaping, a few benches, and even four or five lush flowerbeds.
After our wedding, we planned to buy something together. He kept pestering me to move in with him every time I stayed over, which was almost every day.
Still, I kept this place. I don't know why. There are bars on the windows, the closet is the size of a postage stamp, and just not enough wall space for all of my books.
I pay about $1,200 a month for this crappy place and Alex pays $3,000.
He makes so much that he didn’t want me to contribute to the rent. But still something was keeping me here.
It didn't make any financial sense, but then again when has anything that I have ever done made any financial sense?
My parents wanted to pay for my school, but I chose to take out loans and make my own way in the world.
I know that my decision to do so had a lot to do with hubris and pride, but it was my choice and I wanted to see that I could do it.
I did the same thing when it came to the car. To celebrate my graduation from college, my father presented me with a brand new white BMW with all the bells and whistles, but I refused to accept it.
I had saved up for a 2012 Toyota Prius and the fact that it drove my parents crazy that I would be seen driving that car in their neighborhood in front of all their friends and acquaintances, was just a little cherry on top of the whole situation.
I open my closet door and stare at the two dresses that I have.
I bought both of them on sale at Nordstrom Rack. I don't normally shop there, but I knew given that my mom and sister were hosting this party for me that they would expect me to wear something decent.
The blue dress with the Michael Kors tag pinches at my waist. I examine my reflection in the stand-up mirror, a splurge that I had allowed myself when I saw it at West Elm and couldn’t take my eyes off of it.
I rarely feel that way about things or clothing, so I figured that I could allow myself this one indulgence.
The girl looking back at me looks tired and exhausted. The makeup that I had applied earlier has washed off.