"Are you sure it's going all right?" Carmen's question, over the phone, made Monica question herself about the new job at the dance studio.
"I think so." She knew everyone was nice to her, and Jade did take most of the workload. However, Monica couldn't stop her, even if she wanted to. Yes, there were times she was idle, and she felt bad about that. "I know I should be doing more."
"How so?" Carmen sounded tired from her new job at the hospital. Monica was shocked to even get a phone call from her so late in the evening.
"Oh, it's nothing. You know, it's like, Jade knows how to do everything. I just wish she'd let me do more." Monica finally let slip.
"Just keep watching her and ask as many questions as you can," Carmen told her. There would be a day when she might have to do everything.
Monica gritted. She hoped she would be ready. Jade's baby bump was growing. Of course, she knew she would trouble herself wondering why she wasn't prepared enough. Honestly, she'd never thought of these circumstances when she was younger. All she'd worried about was her wardrobe and makeup. Now those things were on the back burner.
If that wasn't enough, there were thoughts of wondering if she was or wasn't in a relationship with Randy. Yes, she didn't like to admit it, but he'd always think it was purely platonic. But he usually had dinner waiting for her when she got home. And he'd listen to her go on about her day, yet it seemed he didn't want to talk about his.
Tristan had moved out with Olivia. He never came over to check on them anymore. Frankly, it was too quiet, but she wasn't going to focus on this with Randy. She was beginning to think she didn't know him after all, just like he said.
And even listening to Carmen with all her hacks about the job at the dance store was so overwhelming that she found herself in tears. When would anything really change? The days were churning into weeks, and months would go by. Yes, this longing she had for Randy was drifting. The truth was sinking in. She needed to find her own joy within.






