Teacher's Pet

"Except Penn." I crumpled up the brown paper grocery bag into a tight wad and threw it over our narrow pass-through window into the living room.

"And that is why we're having taco night." Ginny shooed me to the other side of the pass-through. I slumped on a narrow bar stool and moped while she mixed up two margaritas. She cracked open beer chasers and then rolled up her sleeves to make dinner.

"I'm just sad that I failed," I said.

Ginny slapped ground beef into a skillet. "You were an angel. Seriously. He was just trying to get some, and you were trying to comfort him through his mother's sickness. A sickness, I have to say, you had every right to never go near again. All the memories were no good for you, yet you were kind to him. I don'

t call that failing."

"No," I said, sipping my margarita. "I failed at spontaneity."

Ginny laughed and left the ground beef to brown. She leaned on the pass-through counter across from me.

"Getting whisked away in a helicopter to Monterey and then heading off into Pinnacles to go camping, of all things, isn't spontaneous? And, I mean, you're you! I'd say you passed your spontaneity course with flying colors."

"But I'm still me," I whined. "Except now I don't have a job or any idea where next month's rent is going to come from. What was I thinking?"

"Please," Ginny said, clinking our glasses together, "we both know you have a way healthier savings account than any other recent college grad in the history of the world. I'm still glad you gave up that interview. It's like you escaped and now you have the chance to do what you really love."

"Too bad I can't love singing and not be poor," I said. "And now, I can't even bear to think about all the ideas I had for a glamorous camping business on the side. God. I actually thought Penn and I could do that together."

Ginny shoved the tortilla shells in the oven. "That sounds like a great idea. And you know someone who has an in around Pinnacles."

"I can't talk to Penn's mother anymore." My eyes blurred, but I swiped the tears away. "I should have just stuck to my plan. Maybe it's not too late. I should talk to Joshua."

"Oh, God, please don't-" Ginny was cut off by the sound of our doorbell. "No. It can't be him."

Penn? I shot to my feet as if I had been electrified. My hand was already on the door handle when Ginny called out. "I forgot to tell you I ran into Joshua today."

He was there, holding out a bunch of hothouse flowers as soon as I opened the door. My stomach sank so fast that I wanted to bend over double. Instead, I gripped the door and forced my face into a smile.

"Joshua. You shouldn't have." I knew he was waiting for an apology, but I couldn't clear my throat. My whole body cried out that he was the wrong man and I was afraid of what I would say.

"I heard you were back, and I thought you might be scrambling for job ideas. Want some help?" He stepped inside our tiny apartment, though I knew he loathed the place. "Do I smell, ah, what do I smell?"

"Oh, God, the tacos!" Ginny rushed back to the kitchen and left us standing there awkwardly.

"I'm… I'm… I just don't know what I'm going to do yet," I said.

Joshua smiled as if I were a nervous little kid. "Don't worry. I have a few ideas that can get you back on track. It might not be the Ritz-Carlton–you'll have to work and wait to get back there–but I have a few other contacts in the hospitality world."

I knew Joshua thought he was the white knight, but I felt like he was the one locking the dungeon door. I couldn't go back to my comfortable, practical rut. Just the thought of it made me want to bolt past him out the door and keep running.

"Thanks for the flowers," I said.

"Corsica, please. I don't care what silly detour you took this summer. I'm offering to help you get your life back."

"That's just it, Joshua." I opened the front door. "It's my life. This is something I need to figure out on my own."

Ginny appeared the second I shut the door behind a highly insulted Joshua. "That's it. We're going out to celebrate."

"You burned the tacos, didn't you?"

"Yes. But there's a great taco truck next to your favorite karaoke bar." Ginny grabbed our purses and looped her arm through mine.

The singing helped, and we stayed out much later than we intended. I think Ginny knew what would happen to me once we got back and our tiny apartment settled into silence. She went to bed with a worried look over her shoulder at me.

"I'm sure there's a ridiculously outdated movie on some channel," she offered.