luck for the night - rl.

16. the 'bottoms out' problem.

The next morning, Phoebe's eyes were filled with worry as I entered Inner Beauty. The coldness spread through my veins as she asked "are you sure you can work today?"

I tried to smile. "I'm fine."

Opening our shared computer, I looked at my calendar. "First client in 20 minutes? I'm on time for once?"

A smile, pure as can be appeared on her face. "I'm proud of you!"

I was going to tell her that I lied, I decided. But not right now. It would ruin the energy of this moment, of the whole day. After closing up tonight I would tell her, so she could process it without me being right there.

So, the hours passed, and I kept my head down, doing the only thing about my life that I really loved: making people feel more like themselves. But of course, the day ended way before I was ready to tell Phoebe.

We went into the darkness of the afternoon together. I locked the lilac door, Phoebe was next to me, grabbing her bike. It would be so easy, just to turn around and say 'Hey Phoebe, I have to tell you something.' but for some reason, I could not.

I was terrified of Phoebe's anger when she found out I had lied. I was even more terrified of her reaction when she found out what I had been doing, yesterday. But most of all, I was terrified of her opinion of Remington.

I knew that she was my friend, she was supposed to be happy for me: and I knew she would be. There just was this gnawing feeling in the back of my mind, that somewhere she would be right. About Remington, about me. I knew that something like this could not be sustained; even if Remington and I just were friends: how would it be when he went back to America?

For now, I closed my eyes, ignoring that question, as well as the answer. For now, Remington and his band were going to be touring the UK soon, and I wanted to enjoy it. You could say what you wanted, he and I were good, together. As friends, but sure as hell when we were doing the benefits. I sighed, turning around to Phoebe.

Maybe I should wait a couple of days: who knew what was going to happen the next time I hung out with Remington? Perhaps he would break everything off himself, because he would be leaving England, as well as Europe, behind sometime soon.

"What's going on?" Phoebe broke the silence.

"Nothing, nothing." I did not notice I had been frowning.

"If you still feel ill tomorrow, please let me know okay?" Worry sparked in her eyes again.

"I'm okay," I promised, "there's more needed to keep me down than just some bad sushi."

Phoebe smiled. "Okay. Oh! before I forget: Did you see the appointment I booked for you in your planner? Some girl came in yesterday and she really wanted her permanent eyeliner done the day after tomorrow, I did not have time but you did..."

"Okay, that's fine!" I said, plastering a smile on my face. Discomfort spread through my body, looking at my friend, living with my lie. "But I have to go home now!" I quickly said, turning away from her, the shop, and everything, and going home, to my safe space.

***

My second day back at work felt so similar to the first one, similar to every day of work I had ever done: lots of micro blading, lots of existential dread. Coffee and cigarettes seemed to be the only things still exciting me, the only moments I could spend with myself. I still could not look at Phoebe with a straight face.

Of course, there also was the young man with the dark, messy hair that could make me smile. He kept sending me pictures: his outfit for the day, random things he saw while travelling, and of course another mirror next to the bed in his hotel room.