Within an hour, I manage to find the most amazing blazer of all time. I drop two hundred Mara dollars on a sparkly orange masterpiece with gold lightning bolts running down the side of each breast. It makes me feel like a fucking rock star. I wish I could actually see myself in the mirror, but even with Siri’s pale reflection staring back at me, I’m not deterred.

I balance out the wild blazer with a sexy forty-dollar low-cut plain black jumpsuit I found at H&M. It’s formfitting, so it looks more like a catsuit. Siri and I have different boobs. It fits her nicely in the mirror and a bigger size would look stupid. When I look down though, I can see it fits me a little less cleanly. The fact that only Zarar will be able to see my cleavage-y cleavage is giving me the best sort of hot flashes.

I stop in at CVS to grab the necessities before striding into the first bougie hotel I can find and setting up camp in their fancy restroom. I shave my legs over the sink. Spray the shit out of my hair despite the fact that all I can see in the mirror is Siri’s stupid auto-generated braid. I fill my/Siri’s eyebrows in dark and bold to match my dark hair, paint my eyelids a sparkly gold, add a heavy eyeliner, and leave a neutral lip.

When I’m done, the Siri in the mirror looks all wrong. I can almost see myself through the illusion.

At 5:05 p.m. I spot Zarar waiting on the corner in front of the train station a block away. He’s wearing weathered dark jeans, a brown vest over a button-up white dress shirt, and a dark maroon leather jacket.

Damn. Fashion sense in a guy is a new kind of hot I’ve yet to appreciate in this life.

I feel like I’m living a slow-motion moment as I strut across the street, and for once I don’t want to mock it. I want to live in it. For a few hours I want to forget about the shitty fail-nado that is my current life. Right now, I’m just a slow-motion bitch crossing the block to the handsome lad waiting on the other side of the street, and that’s glorious.

65. Angst and Vulnerability

SIRI

September 5, Saturday Night

California

Grams texts me as Dawn is pulling us into her driveway. Dawn and I shared the most delicious melt-in-your-mouth deep dish pizza, and now we’re going to hang out together. In her house. Alone.

I think Jamie texted Dawn at dinner. Dawn typed out a quick response and put her phone away because we’re carpe diem-ing.