New Zealand?

What the hell was Diana doing in New Zealand? I'd tried to come off as cool and collected whenever I found out through she I's mutual friend, Sarah—but how could I? We'd just broken up and she was already partying it up halfway across the world.

My chest ached in a way I'd spent so much time trying to avoid, a way that made me clutch onto it in pain, tears threatening to fall from its ducts. A bottle of wine stood tall on my dining table, a forgotten glass right beside it.

Without a second thought, I reached over toward the counter from my seat in search for my handbag, shuffling through it. I pulled out my laptop, retrieving it from the red bag.

I sat it in front of me, grumbling lowly at how long it took every piece of technology I had to turn on.

"Come on," I mumbled, pushing the power button, eyes beginning to blur at the alcohol coursing through my system. "Come on!"

Finally, that familiar Home Screen flashed before me, and I squealed in my drunken state. My curser moved along the screen as I giggled and pondered where to go.

An unopened email sat in the corner of the screen, and I raised both eyebrows in confusion, wondering who would be sending out emails so late on a weeknight. I could only hope it wasn't more hate mail from my ex-employer.

Once I clicked on it, an invitation planted itself on the blurry screen, and I struggled to read what it said.

CLASS OF '93 10th YEAR REUNION!
RSVP HERE —>

In an a ball of hazed confusion and only being able to read half of the text, I clicked onto the pretty green check mark, watching as the smiley face on the invitation danced and had confetti falling from its mouth—how fucking odd.

Then, I clicked another button on the top right corner of the screen, watching as the invited disappeared within seconds.

Alright.

Whatever that was could wait until morning—I'd had a little too much to drink and needed to get some rest. It was nice to get back to a normal sleeping schedule again. After spending so much time being an intern at one of the most influential fashion magazines in the city, you lose more and more sleep as time goes by.

My heavy feet stumbled toward the tiny sofa that sat in the middle of my dingy living room, and creaked slightly when I landed on it.

I wrapped a blanket that had been sitting there since earlier around my torso and sighed happily once I was warm—oh, how I hated cold weather.

Cherrie always loved it though.

And alas, I fell asleep.

I was missing something. Since I'd woken up this morning I could feel it—I was missing something important and it would bite me in the ass if I didn't remember what it was.

I held my latte closely into my chest, watching behind my window as every car passed and everyone who walked by held their umbrella in closely toward their bodies, careful with their steps. I slumped back against my desk chair, biting onto my lip in deep thought.

What the hell was I forgetting?

Then, like a ton of bricks—it all came crashing back.

I'd RSVPd to the ten-year reunion that Cindy Burke was throwing back home, and apparently bought myself a first class plane ticket to San Francisco in my haze of drunken confusion.

My heart slammed in my chest at the realization. I could not in any sense, afford anything to do with first class. What was I thinking? How could I be so stupid? This is what I get for getting drunk after thinking about Diana.

I couldn't go back home, that was not an option. I spent all of high-school being tortured in more ways than one. I couldn't even imagine what Cindy Burke and her ex-group of heathens would do if they found out that I have still yet to prove myself.

As a writer and as a person.

In a fit of anxiety, I reached for my laptop and opened up a video chat between my mother and I.

A few rings went by before she answered, but to my surprise, it wasn't my mother's face on the screen—it was my fathers. He wore a delighted grin, his reading glasses placed on the bridge of his thick nose. And his full-head of grey hair was perfectly gelled to a quiff, definitely courtesy of my mother.

"Hi, mija!" He said loudly, causing me to wince, "how are you?"

I lifted up a hand to wave, trying to calm the unsteady beating inside of my chest. "Hey, dad—where's mom? I really need to talk to her."

He set down the laptop in front of him, the camera now at eye-level with his chest instead of his face. "Gabby, guess who called? It's Becca!"

A sharp gasp was all to be heard on the other end of the video call, my mother's face coming into view. "Becca, mija, it's so good to hear from you—why is it aimed at your shirt, Harry? She can't even see our faces."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize—can you see us now?" The camera had only been moved up a few centimeters from its previous position.

I chuckled politely, wanting nothing more than to get what I had to say off of my chest. "No, dad, I can't. But that doesn't matter, I really need to talk to you guys about something—"

"Just one moment, Becca, we can't find the right angle," mother said sincerely, the camera being moved again. "Hold on, maybe Paul or Selena will know more about this—Paul! Lena!" I gripped onto a couch cushion and bit onto it to stop myself from screaming.

Moments later, my younger brother and sister came into view, Paul sporting nothing but a douchey smile. "Sup, bitch—" then, my mother landed a sharp slap on the top of his head, earning a laugh from Lena and a groan from Paul.

"I didn't even do anything! Pa, tell her I didn't do anything!" Paul shouted, my father instantly jumping in.

"Oh, come on, Gabby, he didn't mean it. You know how boys are—"

"Ugh, you always make excuses for him, papa, he's an idiot!" Lena's voice boomed throughout the speaker of my laptop, the camera being tossed and moved around until inevitably, the video chat lost connection.

Oh, how grateful I am to be out of that house—and maybe going back to San Francisco wouldn't be so bad, after all.