After breakfast, I shower and dress quickly, determined to keep busy while I'm alone in the house without the distraction of other people. My résumé doesn't take me long. All I need to do is add my last employer. When I type the school's name, I shudder, remembering hands on my flesh that I didn't ask to be there and the odor of stale coffee breath and breath mint that haunts my nightmares. But it's the recall of that asshole's smirk as he told me I wouldn't be coming back next year that makes me want to cry. I really loved my colleagues, and the kids at the school were awesome.
It isn't fair that I'm the one who got punished when it was him who acted inappropriately.
When I'm done sending the résumés, I tab through my phone for Luna's number. I'm not expecting her to answer immediately. She must be ridiculously busy planning and rehearsing for her tour. Maybe I'll catch her mail service, and I can leave a message. When her crystal-clear voice answers with a bright “Hello,” I'm momentarily paralyzed.
"Hello?" she repeats, sounding uncertain, then before I have a chance to reply she yells, "Listen, you asshole. Stop calling me. Stop messaging me. Stop the harassment. You've already been reported to the police, and if my bodyguards catch you, they're going to tear you limb from limb, do you understand me?"
"LUNA," I yell over the end of her tirade. "It's me, Sandy."
The phone is quiet for a moment, and then she mumbles, "Sorry…I…uh…I just get fed up with assholes finding out my personal number and calling me at all hours of the day and night."
"Does that really happen?"
"You have no idea." I can imagine her grimacing on the end of the line, her little nose scrunching. It's funny how we all look at the celebrity lifestyle as something awesome when there must be so many downsides to being in the public eye.
"Well, I was calling to see what I can do to help you with your mom."
Luna sighs softly. "You're such a sweetheart, and I feel so terrible for railing on you at Tyler's. It just caught me off guard, and I'm so stressed with everything that's happening. I just feel like my life isn't in my hands anymore."
"I get that," I say.
"But you know what? Tyler called me last night. He said he's going to deal with Mom. It's a big relief."
"Are you sure Tyler is up to it?" I say, remembering his face when Luna asked him the first time.
"He said he is. I mean, there really isn't so much to do, and Mom is a lot better than she was before."
"Well, if you're sure."
"I am. I think it will be good for Ty. He's been so withdrawn since Jake. He blames himself, but he also blames our parents. I guess if they weren't such fuck-ups, we might have all been living different lives. Jake was the youngest. He didn't get the support he needed."
"Tyler didn't either. He was the oldest, and the responsibility was a lot for him."
"He never showed it," Luna says. "It always seemed as though he enjoyed being the one to make the big decisions."
"Those decisions weigh heavy on someone so young."
She doesn't know how much I'm speaking from experience. How I fumbled my way through my challenges four years ago, I'll never know.
"Well, I think he'll be okay. Maybe you can support him?" She sounds hopeful, and it puts a sharp, round lump into my throat.
"I think Tyler is better off without me," I say.
"I think you're crazy." I can hear rustling on the other end of the line and then voices. For a while, Luna's attention is drawn away from our conversation, and I dig my nails into my palm, waiting. Eventually, she clears her throat. "I know how happy Tyler was when you guys were together. It was like someone stuck a megawatt bulb up his ass. He was always smiling."
"But it wouldn't be the same now," I say. "Too much has happened."
"He still loves you," she says. "He never stopped."
"He doesn't know me anymore." The hitch in my voice is loud enough for Luna to hear, and she's quiet for a while.
"I always had this idea in my mind about what love is," she says softly. "I don't know where I got it from because I certainly didn't see it at home. The kind of love that I want is the love that sees all the good and all the bad and exists anyway. A forgiving love. An accepting love. I know my brother, and that's the kind of man he is. Whatever is making you think that he won't love the person you are now…maybe you should just tell him and let him decide."
"But what if knowing will hurt him?" I ask. "What if it could change everything?"