Entry 3

“Grande non-fat vanilla latte”, Angie ordered from the third year law student/barista who worked at her neighborhood Starbucks on Wednesday mornings. She doesn’t flirt with him anymore. She wonders if he knows.

She sipped her sweet caffeine treat and a relaxing ahhhh rolled through her spirit, cut short promptly by the now familiar self-chastisement, how can I enjoy my life when Shayla’s missing. Angie lived now with a vague tension headache.

The last time she had seen Shayla they had argued.
“I’m not lying for you”, Angie said, “If you’re not going to Ma’s for Thanksgiving, I’m not covering for you.”
“Get off your high horse how many nights did I clean up after you, hide the evidence, lie to mom and dad for you. Where were your morals then?”
“Give me a break that was back in high school.”
“So now Angie you’re ready to be Miss Honesty, so we all have to be. Really I don’t need your judgment, just be a friend.”
“I think maybe my judgment is exactly what you need.”
“Screw you.”
“Screw you.”

I love you Shayla where are you?

She questioned the salesgirl at Ulta, they were able to figure out who had helped her from the receipt for the lipstick, Slowburn. “Oh yeah I do remember her, because she seemed so happy, but then she said this weird thing. She said ‘this might be the last lipstick I’ll ever wear’. And then she laughed, so I laughed too. She seemed real sweet, happy almost giddy. I hope that helps.”

Everything helped, every story, every detail, every memory that she could grab up. She hungrily ingested them from anyone who had a tidbit on Shayla. The morsels helped her bring Shayla back. Today Angie wore Shayla’s Juicy Couture red velvet sweat suit. She dressed exclusively from Shayla’s closet now. She wore the orange-red Slowburn on her lips.