Until it did, when I accidentally poked myself in the eyeball with the mascara wand. Not once but four times.
After I’d done all I could do, I put my glasses back on and headed downstairs. Grandpa was having a conversation with Parrot Hilton, and by the acrid stench hanging in the air, my grandmother had again attempted to make dinner. She’d been doing this for decades now—I wondered at what point she was going to give up and admit defeat.
I wanted to sneak past them, but I forgot about the third stair, and it creaked so loudly, it was like it was deliberately trying to get me caught.
“Anna?” my grandma called out.
Attempting to head off the Spanish Inquisition that was coming, I said, “I’ll be back late. I’m not sure what time.”
Maybe Craig and I would have a late-night stroll. We’d walk hand in hand along a waterway （never mind that we were nowhere near a pier or river） until we found an adorable park bench, where we would sit and talk until the sun came up. That made me sigh happily, and I realized that Catalina was right. I did watch too many romantic-comedy movies.
My grandma narrowed her eyes at me. “You have responsibilities. A job you have to go to where you pretend to do actual science.”
“Not anymore! I quit!” The words exploded out of me. I slapped a hand over my mouth. I hadn’t meant to say that. Because I knew what was coming.
She was going to take way too much pleasure in this, and there would be a lot of crowing at my expense. Like when Crow DiMaggio had gotten the sling off his wing.
To my surprise, instead she demanded an explanation. “What do you mean, you quit?”
“I mean it in the usual sense of the word. You know how I usually get up in the morning and go to Minx Cosmetics? I won’t be doing that tomorrow or any other day in the foreseeable future.” Something about talking to my grandma always made me revert to a sixteen-year-old girl, and I hated it.
Instead of lecturing me about not taking care of my responsibilities, my grandmother pivoted again and managed to look slightly pleased. “Does this mean you decided to take your career more seriously and dedicate yourself to a real job that will use your degree and intelligence?”
My grandmother was an environmental scientist, specializing in soil （a pedologist, as she was fond of reminding us. Which was, as I had learned at eight years old in school, not to be confused with a pedophile. My parents got a very interesting phone call that day）。
“I was already using my degree and my intelligence and I will again. I’m serious about my career as a cosmetic chemist. I will find a new job in the same field.”
She pursed her lips together and then launched into a mini-lecture about me paying my dues, which I had done in full, thank you very much. Then it was on to how much harder it was for women in STEM and that we had to work twice as hard as men to be considered half as good （she wasn’t wrong, but no way was I giving her the satisfaction of agreeing with her） and how I had to hold the door open for the women coming up behind me. Again, she was right, and I was already doing that.
And if I ever did get to start my own company, I’d hire every woman cosmetic chemist in the greater Los Angeles area.
Part of me wanted to tune my grandma out, but given that she was a professor, I worried that there might be an actual quiz later.
When she paused to take a breath, I said, “I know, Grandma. I have to go. I’m headed out to a party.”
“A party?” She looked more shocked at this than she had when I told her I’d quit.
It hurt my ego just a bit that she was so incredulous. We didn’t have a warm and fuzzy relationship, mostly because she wasn’t a warm and fuzzy person. She was very serious, very focused, and very, very into dirt.
I knew she loved me and that she pushed me because one, she didn’t want me to “fail” the way she thought my mother had, and two, if I was successful, then she would feel like she’d done right by my parents and that she and Grandpa had done a good job of raising me.
My grandfather came into the room with Parrot Hilton on his shoulder. Parrot Hilton let out a long string of curse words that adequately conveyed my internal feelings at the moment. Feather Locklear was the one who had taught her to swear, a behavior we were trying to extinguish, and my grandpa cooed at the bird, redirected her, and got her to stop. Sometimes I thought my grandpa was part bird. I didn’t realize that birdbrained was an insult until I was a teenager. The ability to relate to birds so well always seemed like a superpower to me.
“You look lovely,” my grandpa said to me, kissing my cheek. He couldn’t be more opposite from my grandma if he’d tried. He was an ornithologist who spent most of his time either teaching or helping with a local bird rescue foundation. My grandmother was literally fixated on the ground and he was always looking to the sky.
It was actually how they’d met. Grandma had dug a big hole to take various soil samples, and Grandpa had been following a California least tern, and because he wasn’t watching where he was going, he fell into the hole, breaking his leg. They got married six weeks later and had my mom a year after that.
“Thank you, Grandpa. Okay! I’m off!”
“Wait,” Grandma said. “We have to discuss . . .”
Whatever else she said was lost when I closed the front door. I should have climbed out my bedroom window to avoid all that nonsense. Now I was definitely going to be late.
Putting my grandmother and her expectations out of my mind, I focused on what was ahead of me.
Tonight was about possibilities and finding a new way forward. It was all going to change.
I was going to have a bright, happy new future.
Hopefully with Craig by my side.
CHAPTER FOUR
The event was being held in the ballroom of a nearby hotel. When I arrived at the party, it was in full swing. I felt terribly self-conscious and like people were staring at me. I didn’t know if it was because of the dress or if Jerry had spread the word about me quitting.
I briefly wondered whether my former boss might throw me out if he saw me. I was going to have to keep a low profile and avoid him. I had to focus on finding Craig, telling him my feelings, and we would hopefully leave together.
The thought of actually doing that made my stomach lurch. A waitress walked by, holding out a tray of champagne flutes. Liquid courage would be very helpful. I reached for the drinks and took two.
“For a friend,” I said. Why did I do that? Feel like I had to invent some story? Like how I’d call for Chinese takeout and tell the restaurant that my order was for a family of four when I planned on eating the whole thing myself and spending the entire weekend in a food coma.
Maybe I should try a little honesty along with my other resolutions. “Actually, they’re both for me.”
“Good for you,” the waitress said with a nod. “Whoever he is, you deserve better.”
She was gone before I could protest. If I were a superstitious person, I would think the universe was trying to warn me.
I saw Craig standing in a corner with a group of people. I downed both glasses quickly and placed them on a nearby table. I would have to make sure to eat something later. I hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime, and I didn’t want to get sloppy drunk.
Craig walked away from the group, and I saw my opportunity. He walked out onto a large patio, and I followed him. He was on a phone call, and I wondered how long I could stand here before it got creepy.