Emergency Contact(48)

As if on cue, Celeste arrived. In white jeans, blinding-white sneaker-heels, a white tank top with silver writing on it, and gobs of silver jewelry. It wasn’t Celeste’s fault that she resembled a reality-show stage mom with questionable judgment straight from central casting.

“Oooooh!” said Jude in a tone that implied that it finally made sense. “Your mom’s hot.”

“Yep,” said Penny.

“Explains a lot.”

“Yep.”

“Mom!” Penny called out.

“P!” Celeste swiveled around and ran toward her with her arms outstretched for a bear hug. Penny laughed.

Her mom stepped back for a quick audit of her daughter’s appearance.

“Awww, baby. You look terrific.”

“You too, Mom.” She really did.

“Hi, Mrs. Lee.” Jude smiled.

“Come here.” Celeste pulled her in for a hug. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Celeste was a smooth liar.

“And, actually, I’m Mizzzzz Yoon,” she said. “Lee’s Penny’s dad’s name. Unmarried, never was. Anyway, call me Celeste.”

“Sure thing, Celeste,” said Jude, smiling. “And I know you haven’t heard squat about me because I know absolutely nothing about you.” Jude linked her arms with Celeste, and the two walked ahead to the elevator. “Tell me everything. Penny’s a regular Fort Knox.”

Penny followed behind them.

Celeste and Jude chatted easily. Neither of them had inside voices, and Penny was relieved that they weren’t sharing the elevator ride with anyone else.

“So, Mom,” said Penny. “You’re here. What do you want to do?”

“I want to go shopping for my birthday.” Celeste smiled at Jude. “I’m turning the big four-oh in four traumatizing weeks.”

“Scorpio?” asked Jude.

“Saggi cusp!”

“Aries!” said Jude.

“Omigod, I’m Aries rising!”

Celeste and Jude high-fived.

Penny realized the astonishing truth that she’d simply given up one crazy roommate for another. She checked her phone. No new messages.

She unlocked the door to their bedroom and invited her mother in. “This is us.”

Jude’s side was covered in photographs, posters, various burnt-orange UT paraphernalia, beer bottle labels stuck to the wall, and stuffed animals.

On Penny’s side there was nothing but a small framed picture of her and her mother that had been packed inside her suitcase until forty minutes earlier. Penny was glad she’d remembered to dig it out and place it on the desk.

“Let me guess which side is yours!” Celeste exclaimed.

? ? ?

After an eyebrow threading, a pair of jeans for Jude, a new caftan for Celeste, and an Egon Schiele postcard book for Penny’s secret shrine dedicated to pining for Sam, the girls were peckish.

“What do you want? Thai? Indian? Vegan New-American?” Jude rattled off suggestions while they piled their purchases into Celeste’s hybrid wagon.

“I need a coffee before we do anything else,” said Celeste, slamming the trunk.

Penny didn’t hear it so much as she watched Jude’s mouth move in slow motion: “Coffee? I know exactly where.” Jude jumped into shotgun.

Shitshitshitshitshit.

Up until this point, Penny had been on her best behavior. She tried on everything Celeste had badgered her into. She’d held a Zen master’s peace in her heart and allowed Jude and Celeste to tease her habits, how she only ever wore black and never showed her figure. Penny understood that it was great that her roommate and her mom were getting along even if the two of them together were a vaudeville act.

“There’s a great place close to the dorm,” said Jude. “I’ll navigate.”

Penny felt her soul escape her body.

“Coffee? What? Don’t be crazy, Mom. You’ll be up all night,” said Penny, getting into the backseat with increasing hysteria. “Let’s drop everything off at the room first. I’m bushed.”

“Penny,” said Jude. “Your mom is almost forty. I’m sure she can handle a midafternoon latte. So take a left here,” she directed.

Penny’s throat tightened. She took inventory of what was happening around her.

Possible measures to derail a horribly inopportune Sam encounter:

1. Crap. She had nothing.


“So, my uncle works at this place,” continued Jude. They turned onto the Drag.

“Ooooh, is he cute?” asked Celeste. Penny was going to be sick.

She pulled out her phone to check her appearance. Her sunblock had turned into a crumbly powder on her forehead. She licked her fingers and desperately tried to smooth it in. Plus, as luck would have it, Penny hadn’t done laundry in two months and was dressed in ratty black leggings and a Willie Nelson T-shirt that read HAVE A WILLIE NICE DAY. It was 2XL and she’d got it six years ago at a Buc-ees’ truck stop. She’d had an outfit planned on the off chance that she’d see Sam again. It involved a blazer and some ankle boots with a heel. Maybe she’d get a blowout. That was her fantasy.

This was not how she wanted to see him after their morning call.

Penny breathed deep. She considered texting Sam a warning, except what would she even say? When Celeste killed the engine at a parking meter a block away, Penny wanted to cry.