MASTER SET 2ND PASS

CHAPTER 1

Future Plans

ell, look who decided to show up. My mom turned around to face me and put her hands on her hips, balancing the cordless phone on her shoulder. Its okay, Officer. Shes here. In fact, she just walked through the door. Thanks for your help. Yeah, weve got it from here. My name is Anna Goldfarb. Im a 6'1", barely employed, single, thirty-three-year-old Jewish woman. And, judging by the look on my mothers face, I was in trouble. Hey, guys. I gave a faint smile. Who were you just talking to on the phone? Looking around the kitchen, I saw my mom, my younger sister, Rachel, and her dog, Ginger, all glaring at me. My dad was at the dining room table, clicking around on his ancient Toshiba laptop. The keys stick, which makes it

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sound like a leprechaun is doing a tap dance routine when he types an e-mail. No one said anything; my mother tapped her foot. Whats up? Why is everyone looking at me like I just committed a crime or something? I will have you know that I was just on the phone with the police, my mom said sternly. The police? Why? Is everything okay? The dog growled at me when I reached over to pet her head. She always does that. Well, when we didnt hear from you and I saw that you didnt come home last night, I had no idea what to think! Wait, you called the police because I didnt come home last night? Really? Is this a joke? Oh my God, Mom, Im fine. I tried to call your cell phone at least a dozen times, but you didnt pick up, Anna. Didnt you get my messages? I tried to call you, too, Rachel said, clutching her dog. No one knew where you were. Weve been freaking out, like, all morning. Your father was worried out of his mind! My mom gestured toward my dad. His huge glasses reflected the computer screen. He seemed calm. Werent you, Roy? my mom prodded. Werent you worried? What? Oh, yes, yes, he mumbled. Very worried. Very. Then he went back to staring at the computer. Im sorry, guys. I didnt get any of your messages. Hold on, let me check my phone. It took a while to find it because it was buried under a few things, but sure enough, there were seven-

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teen missed calls. Scrolling through, it became clear that everyone on the planet had been trying to reach me today. Why didnt you pick up your phone? my mom shrieked. It mustve been on vibrate or something! Im sorry. I put the phone to my ear and heard the first message, left around seven a.m. It was my mother, slightly agitated. Hey, Anna. I saw that you didnt come home last night. Your cars not here and youre not in your bed. I want to make sure that youre okay. Give me a call when you get this. I deleted it, and then listened to the next one in the queue, which was also from my mother. Hey, Anna. Its eight a.m. I still havent heard from you. Give me a call. After that, the messages increased with alarm. My moms voice changed from concern to straight-up panic. By the seventh message, anxiety had fi rmly taken over. Anna, Im really starting to worry here. Its almost nine thirty a.m. and we havent heard anything from you. Please call home when you get this. Rachel got in on the manhunt around then, leaving a few panicked messages of her own. Anna, call home. Mom is worried. My best friend, Kat, even left one around ten a.m. Yo, your mom just called me looking for you. I told her I had no clue where you were. Did you stay over at Alvins last night or something? I hope you just got some action and arent dead. Anyway, call home and talk to your mom. And, if you got action, call me later and tell me how it went. Bye.

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The last message on the voice mail is where shit got crazy. My mothers voice was wobbly. Anna, weve contacted the police. We have no idea where you are. Please, please call us when you get this message. Oh, God! Apparently my impromptu slumber party had left me one step away from having my picture plastered on the side of a milk carton. I could see it now:
Name: Anna Goldfarb Height: 6'1" Hair: Brown Eyes: Green Weight: Curvy (Even in a police description, Im suremyfamily wouldnt print my actual weight, but insteadopt for a vague estimation to spare me the humiliation.) Last seen wearing: A black hooded sweatshirt and black jeans. Age: 33 She likes Black Sabbath, Mexican food, reality television, and the first two movies in the Back to the Future trilogy.

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If found, please contact the police.

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Well, the good news is that Im not dead, so you can call off the search. I was this close to calling the hospitals, young lady, my mother said. Her fingers were spaced roughly a millimeter apart. Mom, I stayed over at a friends house. Dont worry about it. Oh my God, I never stay over at anyones house and the one night I do, you all panic. Its not a big deal. You could tell I hadnt planned to spend the night because my eye makeup from last night was smeared and trace amounts of dog drool were crusted in my hair. Dont ask. Why didnt you pick up when I called? she demanded. I was freaking out! Clearly, youre still freaking out. I got that. My phone was in my purse, which was in his closet. I mean, the closet. Oh shit. My cover was blown. His closet? Which friend was this exactly? Look, Mom, dont worry about it. Im fi ne. Im alive. Theres no need for law enforcement to intervene. I had fi nally hooked up with a guy and my mother had called the police; you know, totally normal things to happen to a thirty-three-yearold woman, right? The dog barked at me like she wanted some answers about who this guy was, too. Shut up, Ginger, I moaned. Rachel crinkled her nose at me. Hey, dont tell my dog to shut up.

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Well, dont have a shitty dog then. At that moment, all I wanted to do was kick off my boots and have a long, hot shower. I wanted to wash away the events from the night before. Mostly I wanted to wash off my mascara, which was flaking off like itd had enough of being yelled at, too. I dreamed about the second I could slip into a comfy pair of sweatpants. I had been fantasizing about wearing them for the past two hours since Id woken up in Alvins bed. Thats the thing about wearing tight jeans; it makes wearing anything with an elastic waistband feel like a hug from an angel. Truthfully, I was too hungover to have a conversation with anyone about anything. Taking off my sunglasses to meet their gaze felt like an unreasonable request, like caring about Lindsay Lohans prison record or getting in an argument with a thirdgrader about Pokmon. My dad finally looked up from his computer. And when exactly are you leaving? He wasnt talking about me leaving to go back home. I was home. Or rather, I was in their home, having moved back into my parents house about a year before. He was really asking when I planned on getting my life together. And its not that I didnt agree with him, its just that I didnt feel quite ready to give up my life of leisure, at least not yet. Its not like I didnt watch my high school and college friends fall into line, one by one. As they became more stable, settling into lives that seemed plucked from the pages of an IKEA catalog, I strangely found myself regressing, exploring things that most people got out of their system when they graduated high school. As my friends hung works of art in their freshly painted
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foyers, I tacked up Michael J. Fox posters on my bedroom wall. As they set up savings accounts and monthly budgets in Excel spreadsheets, I dipped into my paltry funds for beer money. We looked at each other like we were different species and in a way we were: They were Homo sapiens maturus and I was Homo sapiens immaturus. If we mated, wed probably start a whole new breed of human being. Frankly, despite my best efforts, I just wasnt well versed in how to be an adult. There were entire swaths of skill sets that I wasnt fluent in. Maturity used to be something I aspired to, but as a woman in my thirties, I wear it like an ill-fitting sweater that Ive flung into the corner, hoping one day that I would pick it up and it would magically fit better. Im sure my parents wished that they could send me to Adult School to enroll in the following classes:
Maintaining a Healthy Relationship 101 Bedroom Decor: Put Some Effort into This, for the Love of God Wearing Pigtails Is No Longer Cute at Your Age How to Sleep Like a Human Being and Not Like a Nocturnal Animal Picking a Viable Career with Reasonable Job Security: A Roundtable Seminar

And its not like I didnt want to join my friends on the quest to maturity, but like a cosmic game of duck-duck-goose, the desire just hadnt tapped me on the noggin. I was still sitting
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cross-legged on the carpet, watching everyone around me get the head tap, scramble to their feet, and run around in circles. Life hadnt goosed me yet; at least that was what I told myself. And believe me, no one was more surprised than I was to fi nd myself in this position of needing lessons in maturity. I grew up by the book, doing everything right. I studied hard in school; I spent my early twenties striving to build a career for myself. But by following the rules, Id missed out on a lot of things, like staying over at a guys house on a whim. So, you lose your minds when Im not here and now youre asking when Ill be gone again. Unbelievable. I rolled my eyes. Your mother and I are concerned, thats all, he said calmly. Okay. What exactly are you guys concerned about? They exchanged looks, and my mom nodded for him to keep going. Where do I start? What are your future plans? You have no job and no money. When are you going to get your life back on track? Dad I started to defend myself, but he interrupted me. Its a fair question, right? Youve been living here for over a year. Maybe its time for the bird to leave the nest. Again. He made a little shooing motion to hammer the point home. I think its great that Annas home again, recharging her batteries, saving some money, paying down her bills. A lot of people are doing that these days. Its pretty common. I looked around the kitchen in the direction of the voice and saw my older sister, Sarah, on my moms computer monitor, offering her two cents via Skype.
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