The Matchmakers of Minnow Bay Read Free

college we all believed she would be the one to go all the way with her art career. Now she’s a freelance graphic designer who makes a killing when she works, but doesn’t work very often. She drinks a little more than seems prudent, and doesn’t make art anymore, and plays weird mind games with men. Whenever I call her she is either out of breath or slurping dashi. I imagine most of her days are spent running long distances on foot to ramen noodle shops.
    Renee is insightful, to sum up Daniella so well even though they probably haven’t been in the same room since my last birthday party. She has always had a gift for seeing people, knowing them through and through in an instant. As a result, she always knows just what to do, which way is up.
    Which is why I ask her what she thinks I should do next about housing. If she can’t take me in, maybe she has a better plan.
    â€œI think you should sue, honestly,” she says casually, sipping her flat white.
    â€œSue Mitchell?” My brain doesn’t compute.
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous. Mitchell is the best thing that ever happened to you. I think you should sue your landlord.”
    I roll my eyes. Renee is a divorce lawyer—she thinks everyone should sue for something.
    â€œI’m willing to bet your lease clearly states you have thirty days to leave the premises—that’s the law. But even beyond that, I’m not sure she can boot you for being late with rent one time. So either you’re not telling me the truth about your payment history or she’s evicting you illegally.” Renee recrosses her legs and checks her phone and then adds, “Probably it’s a little of both.”
    I nod, though I was telling her the general truth. I’ve bounced a couple of rent checks over the decade I’ve lived there—I’m a visual artist, for God’s sakes—but none in the last two years. Other than that, I’ve kept up to date. It’s the first bill I set money aside for whenever I get a sale.
    Still, it’s a moot point. “I’m not going to sue. You know that.”
    Renee nods her head and rolls her eyes at me. “Good old Lily. Never one to put up a fight.”
    I decide to take that as a compliment. “Any other ideas?” I ask her.
    Renee pretends to think for a moment. “If you ask me, and you just did, it’s time to get out of Chicago. No offense, but you can’t afford it here. Not the way you live. I bet you’re in credit-card debt up to your ears, or you would have paid your rent with a card advance. Am I right?”
    I bite my lip. She is a little right.
    â€œAnd what good does it do you exactly to stay here? Your apartment sucks, your day jobs always suck, and now that you’ve got a good relationship with a gallery you don’t need to be here to schmooze with the art people anymore. Go live in the outer suburbs and see Mitchell on weekends.”
    I am speechless. Stunned. Chicago is my home. I’ve never lived anywhere else.
    I think Renee sees my face crumple up a bit, because she softens her tone and takes my hand across the table.
    â€œLily. Honey. You’re so talented. Your art sells well, and for a lot of money, for what it is. Go somewhere you can live on that and keep making your beautiful art. Meet new people. Get your feet under you. Be a grown-up, just a little.”
    â€œBut all my friends are here,” I say. And I think, Really, Lily? Daniella’s gone a year now. Kat, Corie, Risha, all married with children in the suburbs, their art careers waiting quietly off to one side while they live their other lives. Their real lives. And Renee, my best friend, actually telling me to go farther away from her than I already am.
    â€œI know,” Renee says, nodding sympathetically. “It’s hard to make a change.”
    â€œEspecially when you never wanted a change.”
    Renee exhales. Puts her phone down.