Hello Stranger(56)

“Guess what he got for us?”

Did she really want me to guess?

“Transcontinental railway tickets! Across Canada!”

Guess not. “What does that mean?” I asked.

“We’re traveling from one side of Canada to the other!”

“On a train?” I asked. Did they even still have those?

“Vancouver to Halifax, baby!” she said, in a voice like we were about to high-five.

But I refused to validate this madness. “I don’t understand.”

“We’re eloping. On a train. Witt bought the luxury package,” Sue said. “He used up his savings.”

“Okay, that’s a red flag, right there.”

“Hush. It’s romantic.”

“I don’t know if you know this,” I said, “but Canada is really big.”

“Yeah!” Sue said.

“So this isn’t like a weekend jaunt or anything. It’ll take at least…” I paused to calculate.

“Fourteen days,” Sue supplied.

“Fourteen days!” I repeated. Then, to confirm: “That’s two weeks!” Then, just to make it sound even more ridiculous: “That’s a fortnight!”

“It’s sixteen days with travel time.”

“What about work?” I demanded, grasping at straws. “Don’t you guys have jobs?”

“We figured it out. Don’t worry about it.”

“What about your parents? Won’t they be pissed?”

“He got their permission beforehand. Which made them love him even more.”

She sighed like the resistance in my voice was excitement. Like we were going to swoon about this together. “It’s a sleeper train,” she whispered.

Why was she whispering? “Don’t people get murdered on those?”

She paused. “Wait. Are you not excited for me?”

I backtracked. What kind of friend wasn’t excited for her best pal when she eloped with a former college track captain? “I am very excited for you,” I said, worrying again about my acting.

“That’s a relief,” Sue said.

“When do you leave?”

“That’s the thing,” Sue said then. “We’re at the airport now. So if you have an issue, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“You’re eloping—right now? As we speak?”

“It was a surprise,” Sue offered meekly.

“But—” I said. Was it unsupportive of me to point out that she was abandoning me during the one week—the only week—when I needed her the most?

“I know,” she jumped in, not making me say it. “We’re supposed to do the portrait this week.”

“I—”

“I should have called you sooner—but it was all so dramatic. He kidnapped me. Isn’t that cute?”

I drew the line at kidnapping. “Not really.”

“The point is, I had no idea.”

“Wait—” I said then. “Are you calling me from the airport in Canada?”

“Greetings from Vancouver.”

Oh god. She was already gone.

I was happy for her. I was, I was. Of course I was.

But … just … who was going to model for me now?

I was in a uniquely terrible position—because I had to do a uniquely bizarre set of things to this person. I couldn’t just hire some random art model. I barely felt comfortable doing all these things to Sue. And we’d seen each other in bathing suits!

I felt an urge to cry clasping at my throat. But I swallowed it—hard.

I was not going to ruin Sue’s kidnapping-elopement by bursting into tears. I just refused to be that person.

I took a deep breath instead, and I ratcheted my face into a big, bright smile. “I’m so happy for you,” I said.

“You are?”

“Of course! Being kidnapped to Canada is every girl’s dream.”

“But what about your portrait?”

“Pah,” I said, making the most dismissive noise I could think of. “Models are a dime a dozen. I’ll have your replacement before you can eat a beaver tail.”

“Nice Canada reference.”

“You’re welcome.”

It dawned on me that we needed to wrap this up before my voice started trembling. “You realize, of course, I’m going to make you do a pretend second wedding later so I can be a bridesmaid.”

“Done and done,” Sue said.

I made her promise to text me lots of pictures. And save the bouquet. And drink a whole bottle of maple syrup. And then I blew kisses into the phone. And then I hung up …

And started crying.

Broken lock. Sick dog. No model. Evil stepsister. Best-friend-less, moneyless, jobless. Not to mention suddenly face-blind at the worst possible time. And about to fumble my first—and now probably last—big break.

What the ever-loving hell had happened to my life?

It had never been perfect before, by any means—but at least it had some potential.

I couldn’t pull it together, but I couldn’t make myself go back to Joe’s apartment, either, so I just stood there in the hallway crying. This is good, I kept telling myself. This is emotionally healthy. You’ve got to feel your feelings.