It only mattered that I was beautiful.
I can’t figure out whether he’s not texting me today because he’s finally gotten tired of me or if he’s just busy.
He hasn’t texted me all day. My hand trembles as I apply lipstick, leaning in close to the bathroom mirror, close enough that I can see each pore in my wide cheeks gaping open, laughing at me.
My little sister, Annie, sits on the bed in the open doorway behind me, paging through a glossy magazine full of shiny pink lips. She catches my eye in the mirror. “You’re not really going to go see him, are you?” she asks.
I shake my head at her. “I have to see him.”
“You don’t have to do anything, Vivian.”
I say nothing. She lets the pause sit, uncomfortable between us, then adds, “What about Amy?”
“Don’t talk to me about her. She’s not my problem.”
I plop down on the bed beside her, pulling out my phone and opening Bumble, feigning relaxation.
I do need to see him. Nothing else will take away the ache. In mom…