It’s just past ten. I’m dressed and waiting. I FaceTimed Sonya a little earlier to remind her how I had promised to take them to the art museums and hold her hand to render her invisible so she wouldn’t set off the motion sensors which I expect to be active after hours and after dark. Sonya was so excited I, the imparateasa, called her directly, so excited I remembered my pledge, and so excited I invited them all out tonight. I maintained my smile outwardly the entire call but inside all her excitement made me feel pretty shitty about myself.

  Before I FaceTimed Sonya, I FaceTimed Vance who couldn’t pick up but was able to text to let me know he was out with friends. He didn’t say who or where or what they were doing (or why he couldn’t video). But this effectively means Sonya, super excited Sonya, is unwittingly my plan B. And to make it all worse, even this plan B was mostly about seeing Silviu if I can’t see Vance. I feel shitty because I am shitty. I don’t deserve to be Sonya’s imparateasa.

  Rosanna is getting ready to go out with Corinne to a new rooftop bar she says everyone is talking about. They were supposed to go a couple nights ago, the night Rosanna decided to stay home with me, being my blanket and for the first time receiving my blood. I led her to believe I was staying home tonight because I knew if I told her about the museum, she’d insist on driving us and playing lady-in-waiting. I should probably let her, for her sake as well as mine, for in their eyes, the Cob?lcescu, it’s what’s expected. But I just hate the thought of her canceling plans again because of me. Hmmm. Wasn’t that the whole point of our conversation on the Promenade the other night? Rosanna wants to fulfill her duties to me. I just lied to her and so she doesn’t even know I’m preventing her from doing so. Maybe I shouldn’t be her imparateasa either. Do I lie more than I think I do? Hold on.

  Rosanna cried. Then I started crying. And soon we both had blood snot dripping from our noses and we were laughing and hugging. I told her everything. Like I expected, she insisted on coming, insisted on driving, and canceled again on Corinne. (At least with Corinne, her resting bitch face can’t get any more bitchy.)

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Because of the blood we had to change our clothes quickly and I told Rosanna she didn’t need to drive, because I already ordered a car. Before I called Sonya, I planned to order a regular black car service for us, but after I hung up feeling shitty about them being my plan B, I decided I’d upgrade us to a full limo instead. I came clean to Rosanna, but do I need to come clean to Sonya? I hope not because I’m not going to. I can’t ever let her find out. It would only make her feel bad and not do anything good. I wonder if you have to tell more lies as imparateasa. Mirela certainly lied a lot. I hope not. Anyhow, Rosanna is excited about the limo. It should’ve already picked Sonya and them up and be heading our way.

  So here I am again, waiting.

  I just flipped back through these pages. It’s been one month since Rosanna gave me this journal. I wrote in it almost every night. When she gave it to me, I wouldn’t have expected that. I started using it because I love her and wanted to show my appreciation for her gift, but even once I got going, knowing how I am, I’m surprised my enthusiasm didn’t wear off after one week. I can’t really say what’s made me keep going. Maybe it makes me feel better. Maybe it makes me think about things more. Maybe it makes me think about things too much. Is it good for me? I really have no idea.

  Skimming the pages makes me feel like a lot of things happened but also that not much has happened at all. It sounds like my theme here is minutiae. I would hope not, but maybe lots of what I wrote down doesn’t matter much. A lot of it was about Vance. And how far will that go? How many more pages will be devoted to him? I suppose nothing I wrote about him is monumental, but it doesn’t all feel like minutiae either. Actually, I’m holding back in that last sentence. None of it is minutiae. Not in terms of being trivial at least. None of it may matter to anyone else, but it all matters to me. And I know that if Vance ended things right now or ghosted, I’d still give him many more pages just to wonder why he left and what I did wrong.

  But I can’t say anymore about that right now, because outside my limo awaits.

  Toodles.

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