Willa & the Extraordinary Internship

CH. 10

Cyn looked at her sharply. "What?" She snapped the end off the last green bean before popping it in her mouth.

Maryam looked encouragingly at Willa. "I have the copy you gave me in my purse." She fished it out of the oversize canvas tote she carried everywhere, claiming it had more utility than any purse could possibly offer. She slid it across the table to Cyn.

"When could you possibly have written this?" Cyn demanded, peridot eyes looking between Maryam and Willa almost angrily. "You didn't tell me."

"She didn't tell me either," Maryam said soothingly.

Again, that flash of anger pulsed through Willa. Cyn always had to be placated. It could never be that Willa and Maryam shared something that was just them.

Cyn chewed slowly. "What's it about?"

"The main character's name is Hanna. She's a writer who has M.E. and uses the Internet as a way to meet friends since she's in such crippling pain that she can't always leave the house. She meets a boy and talks to him for, like, a year, and then runs away from home because her parents have never let her have a normal life or go to school, and she always wanted to experience prom, so when he asks her to go to his, she says yes," Willa said in one breath.

"Me?" Cyn repeated.

"There's some similarities, but not you," Willa hastened to say, heart thumping wildly.

"No." Cyn gave her a strange look. "What's me?"

"M.E. stands for Myalgic Encephalomyelitis," Maryam filled in helpfully. "Basically the organs of the body all degenerate over time."

"That sounds fucking tragic."

"It's not. I mean, not at the end. Because of her illness, she's grown up to be snarky and bitter to cover up how depressed she is that she can't have a normal life. But she hates that her anger guilts her family so she tries to always be nice on the outside even if she doesn't feel that way inside. She's always contemplating suicide and by the end of the book she realizes she doesn't want to die. She translates her love for beauty into makeup and fashion because it's the only thing that makes her feel better about herself. She eventually gets a book deal based on her blog. She can be as depressed and angry as she wants and people actually like it. You know, that she's not one of those optimistic people who always put on a good face? They relate to her and her struggles and her hopes and dreams and her helpless rage at her body. She chronicled her entire journey through blogs and I also included a bunch of emails and IMs with the boy she likes, Chick."

"Chick," Cyn deadpanned.

"Because he has skinny chicken legs and scars from chickenpox on his body that never went away," Willa explained.

"This sounds like the disabled love story from hell." Cyn dipped her finger into the little pot of mustard. "Anyone mind?" Without waiting for an answer she swiped the sides clean and licked her finger, wiping it daintily on the edge of her napkin before picking up the manuscript.

Maryam screwed up her face into a grimace. "Go right ahead," she said belatedly.

Cyn turned to the first page, reading slowly. The waiter must have really loathed them because Cyn had reached the sixteenth page before he returned with a notepad and pen. "Are you ready to order?" he asked in a withering tone.

The three placed their orders, Willa and Maryam lapsing into silence as Cyn continued to read up until the hot platters of food arrived. "Can I hold on to this?" she asked, moving it to the other side of her silverware to make room for her roasted poblano chicken on a bed of wild rice, black beans, and grilled corn.

"Sure." Willa instinctively leaned back as the waiter gingerly placed the scalding-hot platter of miso glazed wild salmon, quinoa and sugar snap peas on the side, in front of her.

"It smells great," Maryam took in a deep breath, savoring the fragrance of their combined dishes. She was served last, her salmon coated in sesame-ginger sauce which generously dripped onto her baby carrots and fresh-steamed broccoli. "Yum," she breathed appreciatively. She paused, fork an inch away from her salmon. "I really hope no one spit in this," she said under her breath.

"Are you getting it published?" Cyn wanted to know.

"Maybe. Hopefully. I'd like to get your guys' opinion first, though," Willa confessed.

"What did you think of it?" Cyn asked Maryam, who shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

"I thought it was very good."

"Very good?" Cyn echoed. "There's literally no words in the English language more vague or bland than that."

Maryam turned helpless eyes to Willa.

Catching the exchanged glance, Cyn pursed her lips. "What's going on?"

"Weeeeeeeell." Willa put down her fork. "Maryam sort of thinks the main character, Hanna, shares some similarity with you."

Cyn looked confused. "How could you base her on me? We're nothing alike."

"I know," Willa was quick to reassure. "It's just like, I don't know, some stuff in there that Maryam thought reminded her a lot of you."

"I was your muse? Fucking awesome." Cyn grinned, then violently stabbed her chicken and brought it to her lips. "I'm just glad you wrote something, Will. I mean, it's about time."

"If anything it was just some subconscious attribution." Willa smiled sweetly. "Obviously."

Cyn returned the smile with a dazzling, thousand-watt one of her own. "Well, I'm sure it's great. When I finish it, I promise I'll have a better word to describe it than 'really good'," she air-quoted. "Speaking of books, did I tell you about the time Grayson..."

As she dove into yet another Grayson monologue on the perils of something or other, Willa felt a deep sense of contentment wash over her. Yes, Cyn could be annoying. Yes, she could be insensitive and crude. But she could sometimes also be really, really great. Cyn could be supportive and genuinely happy for Willa when she wanted to be. Maybe they wouldn't be singing kumbaya anytime soon, but as she watched Cyn animatedly diss Grayson, replete with hand gestures, eye rolls, and mocking impressions of his gravelly voice, Willa felt some of her anger ebb away.

Things were going to be okay.