I let everything I’ve got spill out, and Zarar vaguely smiles and nods. It’s been so long since I just did the set—all of the content I’ve written—completely on my own terms, with my own rhythm, without any distraction from an audience.

The absence of laughter leaves me room to imagine, to feel, to think straight, to really fall into my own words.

I keep going until I get to the end.

It all feels so low stakes that I never stumble.

I just get there. I arrive. I go from point A to point B without hitting one snag in the road and it feels … amazing.

I tell Zarar he’s been a great audience, thanks for coming out, good night and slump forward in relief.

56. Angst and Emails

SIRI

September 5, Saturday Morning

California

I’ve woken to both a text and email from my father.

Dad: Meet me in the kitchen at 11:30, Jame. I’ve got the address and details for the gig today

The email is a reply to my catfish.

Mara,

What’s brought this on? Were you drunk?

—Grier

I don’t know what I expected him to say. Not this. This aligns more with the greedy, selfish, abandoning jerk-and-a-half persona I’ve been conditioned to expect. I mash my lips together and type a response.

Grier,

I’ve been having trouble with Siri lately and it’s been making me question whether we made the right decision splitting the girls up. Maybe we should have co-parented. What do you think?

—Mara

Send. I have an email from Jamie too. I can tell from the lack of detail she’s not exactly happy with me. I can’t let her down today.

I pull up YouTube, open a White Chapel playlist, and blast it as I get ready.

57. A Girl Gets Feedback

JAMIE

September 5, Saturday Afternoon

New York City

“You’ve now been silent for three straight minutes, Zarar. Talk to me. I’m feeling uncomfortably vulnerable.”

“I liked it,” he says simply.

I sit up straighter. “You did?”

“You should lose the Pinterest bit.”

“So you didn’t like it,” I clarify.

Zarar tilts his head to the side. “It’s clear you don’t know anything about Pinterest, so it’s not funny enough to stay, but I liked a lot of it. The Twitter story landed well.”

I mash my lips together. “Okay…”

“The car phone/cell phone bit takes too long.”

I exhale. “Harsh, but keep going.”

“Does your dad really get Botox?”

I wiggle out of my backpack to grab a pen. “Uh yeah, everyone does.”

“Strange.”

“You’d be surprised. More people over here do it than you’d think. You just don’t notice till you know what to look for.”

My hand flies around the bottom of the backpack, without settling on a pen. “Crap.”

“Maybe take out the side tangent about Bluetooth, it’s a little overdone,” Zarar continues slowly.