Wish You Were Here

Part 8: Butterflies

I wake up too early with the sun streaming in through my curtains, and I almost feel genuinely happy. My phone starts to ring and I groan, before going to grab it.

"Hello, sunshine! I'm at your door with coffee, we have to get going or we'll miss our appointments." Rachel's happy voice booms through the speaker much too loud for someone who just woke up. I drag myself to the front door and allow her in, snatching my iced coffee from her hand.

"Thanks... but what appointments?" She responds with her sinister grin. Shit.

"Go take a shower, but don't wash your hair. Hurry!" She gives me a push into the direction of the bathroom and I follow the instructions. I've known her long enough to know I'll never get out of whatever her plan is.

I take a rushed shower without washing my hair, but take the time to shave my legs since it's hot as hell out. I run out of the bathroom with a towel on, waving to Rach as I dip into my bedroom. She lets out a loud cackle as I pass her while running. I'm rifling through my drawers and closet trying to find something I might feel good in. I settle on my distressed high waisted black shorts, and my favorite Led Zeppelin cropped tee. I'm out in a flash back to the living room, but Rach isn't there. I find her in the bathroom humming and packing up my toiletries, and makeup.

"What are you doing? What's going on Rach?" I ask with a hand on my hip.

"Redemption, my sweet girl. We're taking back what's ours dammit." My eyes go wide and she meets my gaze with a smirk. I help her grab everything so I don't forget something important like my toothbrush.

"What about clothes, should I pack?" I ask as I throw all the stuff I've collected into a backpack.

"Nope. We're buying new for you. This weekend is about Cassy getting her groove back. I have dad's Amex and I'm not afraid to use it." She points at me with finger guns and I double over laughing. He's treated me like his own daughter for years now, but I never let him spend his money on me. I think I can finally make an exception just this once.

We bounce down the stairs of the apartment building to a car I've never seen before. I shoot her a questioning glance.

"It's dad's , he said something about traveling in style." She gives me a shrug, my eyes are locked on the beautiful black Range Rover. I refuse to question it, I'm sure she told him I'm a mess and he started throwing hundreds to make me happy again. I hop in the passenger's seat and kiss my apartment goodbye for the weekend.

"We won't be in the hotel by the way. I figure those memories are trash anyway, so we're staying in a house." I practically got whiplash with how fast I turned my head to look at her. She has her eyes on the road but she's fighting a smile. I let out a squeal and slapped her on the arm, dancing in my seat imagining us in a huge rented house.

We hardly hit traffic as we neared the city. She parks in front of a salon I've never heard of but it looks really fancy. I follow her inside, hiding behind so they don't see the state of my hair. She tells them her name, and they immediately seat us in chairs to get our nails done, pedicures as well. Rach tells me we're having our hair done after, and that I can get anything I want done. I've never colored my hair, and I have a lot of it. I can't take it anymore and I need a change.

I tell the stylist I want a honey blonde, and to cut it to my collar bone. She asks if I'm sure at least five times since my hair is at my waist. I told her I'm sure and asked if I can donate the length I'm cutting off. We agree on donating and she ties it off. I have to close my eyes when she cuts it off, and Rach is filming it from her chair next to me. I look at myself with wide eyes, I'm reinventing myself stronger and bolder.