“I hope you saw the town car they rode in while you came in soggy and tired from the train. I hope you saw that princess cut on her fat hand and compared it to your ashy, chipped-nail-polished hands. I hope it eats you alive that your fat, plain friend got one over on you.”

“No one got one over on me, Ma. Chicho . . .” But Liza didn’t have the energy to be nice. Her friend had made a huge mistake for money, and it made her feel queasy to defend her right now.

“Well, at least you have WIC. How did you say he made his money?” Bev looked through her purse, a poor attempt at casual.

“I didn’t say.” Liza had to get around her to get down the hallway. But Bev cocked her hip and blocked her way, primed for an argument. Liza was emotionally near the end of her rope.

“Well, do you know?” Bev asked.

“Ma, I told you I’m not like that. I don’t ask for a man’s bank account before I date him.”

“Okay, Ms. High and Mighty. You’re proud of not even having that man’s business card?” Bev put her purse down.

“Don’t you like him?”

“I actually do. But I’d like him a lot more with a job description.” Bev picked up her purse again and walked toward the door.

“Can that be enough right now, Ma?” Liza asked the back of her head.

“If it’s enough for you, Liza, I haven’t done my job as a mother.” Bev’s bracelets jingled as she clicked the front door closed.

Chicho’s instagram was insufferable for a while. Every hashtag was “the Lord this” and “blessings that.” Liza had never heard her friend speak this way. Chicho had also swapped her wild thick curls and heavy mascara for a straightened bouffant and shimmery eyeshadow. Her very Catholic friend was lifting her hands at a nondenominational megachurch and mouthing songs Liza knew she didn’t know. Chicho sat at children’s bedsides and went to food pantries and fundraisers. Liza had to admit that her friend looked made for this job. She was compassionate and approachable and was the perfect complement to Colin’s egregious self-promotion and outright buffoonery.

Liza shifted her phone to the other ear. “Chicho’s posts are unrecognizable lately.”

“Liza, do not comment. You can’t help but sound petty and she is going to think you’re jealous,” Janae warned.

“Trust me, I am not. We just aren’t talking, and this is the only way I can catch up with her.”

Liza could hear her sister’s annoyance over the phone. “Why don’t you just call her?”