Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
When I return to the kitchen, I have a conversation topic prepared so Marissa doesn’t ask more about my interview. “I was just thinking it’s been a while since I heard from Stella,” I say as I check the oven, where a loaf of garlic bread is turning toasty brown. “Have you been in touch with her?”
Stella is our best friend from college, where the three of us met when we were assigned as roommates. Stella was on her way to a business degree but ended up having to drop out her junior year after getting pregnant as a result of a one-time hookup.
“No, it’s been a while,” Marissa says. “Let’s see if she’s available for a call after we eat.”
Stella and her five-year-old daughter live on the other side of the state with Stella’s mom and stepdad. She gets some money every month from her daughter’s father, but it’s not enough to be able to live on her own, especially when she doesn’t have enough time to work more than a part-time job herself.
From the sounds of it, Stella’s mom isn’t much help as a grandparent and there’s a lot of tension in their relationship, but she does provide a place for Stella and her daughter to live, which is something. Stella hasn’t had it easy these past six years, and Marissa and I worry about her quite a bit.
Before we sit down with our bowls of spaghetti and meatballs, I send a text to Stella, who says she’ll be available in an hour after she gets her daughter, Jessie, into bed. When the time comes, Marissa sets up her laptop on the coffee table so we can do a video call.
We like to see Stella’s face so we can get a better idea of how she’s doing, and today, she looks tired. She’s smiling, but I have the impression that it’s more for our benefit than from genuine happiness.
“What’s that on your shirt?” I ask after we’ve all said our hellos.
“Hmm?” Our friend looks down and then brushes away what turns out to be a cluster of bubbles. “Oh, it was Jessie’s bath night. It never all stays in the tub.”
Just then, a squeaky voice calls out, “Mommy!” and Stella sighs.
“Sorry, I thought she was asleep. I’ll be right back.” Before Stella gets up, the call is repeated, this time much louder, and Jessie appears.
“Who’re you talkin’ to?” the girl asks, her adorable face getting closer to the screen. “Oh, hi, Auntie Marissa, hi, Auntie Ana!” She waves excitedly with both of her little hands, and though I’m sorry for Stella that bedtime is being delayed, I always love the opportunity to see my honorary niece.
“Hi, Jessie,” both Marissa and I coo.
“Guess what, Aunties? I lost a tooth yesterday!” She bares her teeth to show us that one is indeed missing in the bottom front.
“How exciting! Did the Tooth Fairy visit you last night?” I ask.
“Yes, I got five dollars!” She jumps up and down and then turns around in a circle as Stella reminds her to use her inside voice. “And guess what else? I learned a new word today!”
“Oh no, no.” Stella flutters her hands, urging her daughter to stop talking, but it doesn’t work.
“When I’m older, I’ll have big boobies like Mommy, but I already have a vagina!” As Stella tries to shush her, Jessie asks Marissa and me, “Do you have vaginas?”
“Jessie, that’s not an appropriate question to ask people, even your aunties, and you’re supposed to be in bed.”
“Okay, Mommy. But one last thing. Let me show the aunties how I can spin on one foot!” Jessie presses her face close again to make sure we’re both watching, and then she jumps back to a spot in the room where she’s halfway off the screen and turns in a circle, one hand held overhead.
We give her heaps of praise and applause, tell her goodnight, and she scurries out of the room, leaving us alone with Stella.
“I’ll have to go check on her soon,” our friend says with a sigh.
“How’s she doing at school?” Marissa asks.
“Good, overall. She likes it. She’s making lots of friends.”
There’s something in Stella’s tone, aside from her obvious fatigue, that makes me question this last part. “Are they good kids?”
“They seem to be. The only thing is that her best friend takes dance classes—that’s why Jessie was spinning for you—and Jessie wants to take classes with her. Unfortunately, they’re not cheap.”
Marissa frowns and I wince as we both nod sympathetically. Stella does her best for her daughter, but money is always tight, and she can’t always give her everything she’d like to.
“She’ll probably be interested in something completely different in a week or two,” I tell Stella. “That’s how my little brothers always were.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“You’re doing a great job with her, Stel,” Marissa tells her.