Rachel kept telling me to apologize. She said my parents adored me and they were hard on me only because they thought I had so much potential. She said they always talked about my “off-the-charts test scores” and how they wished I had gone to college. Rachel told me this after three margaritas at Subtropical. I stormed out of there too. I don’t love how often I storm out of places, but sometimes there’s just no other way to get your point across.

It’s bizarre that my mom is texting me now. Maybe she feels bad. My parents are getting older, and maybe they feel lonely and guilty that they alienated their only daughter.

I think about responding, but I don’t. I can’t bear my parents seeing my life now and proving them right. My lifestyle isn’t sustainable. I am living hand to mouth again, like when I was bartending and auditioning at nineteen.

But then I think maybe I can lie to them. Acting practice, like I did with Jessica and Thomas. I have that expensive dress I took from Thomas’s house. I will take them to an expensive restaurant and bring Thomas as my date and make him pay. I will tell my parents that I’ve booked a major movie and that my astrology money is still flush. I can tell them that I’ve been hired as an astrological consultant for a major company that gives me benefits and a 401(k). I will make them feel foolish for having no faith in me.

I am getting high off the fantasy, starting to feel like it is real. The Strasberg method. I have a little pep in my step as I walk into Subtropical and claim my table. In between researching memes, I look up “best places for Thanksgiving dinner in Los Angeles.” I text Thomas to see if he has plans. He doesn’t. I am sure I could get him to come.

Filled with newfound courage, I text my mom back: I’m having dinner at the Palm in Beverly Hills with my boyfriend. Would you like to join us? Our treat.

My mom responds predictably: Are you sure you can afford it?

I reply quickly: Absolutely.

Then I open up Instagram and see that a famous Libra model, Stella Shadid, has tagged me in her Instagram story with the Libra meme I made before I left. Stella has twenty-six million followers, which means I am getting hundreds of new followers by the second. I should have known I could count on an airhead Libra to think my meme was “so on point.”

This is the perfect time to advertise my readings. As I upload the post, I feel a familiar tapping on my shoulder. Cold, bony fingers. Jessica.