There are some days when just coming home washes the day off of me. It's like I pass under some kind of cleansing mist when I pass the threshold. I walk through my door, kick off my shoes, toss my keys and bag on the table and somehow the rest of the day's shit fades away purely because I'm home.

Yeah. Today is not that day.

When I take off my shoes, I notice how sore the balls of my feet are. The pretty shoes were a little more impractical than I bargained for and the tightness I thought would alleviate once I'd worn them a few times has not, in fact, alleviated. The bun I pulled my hair back into was too tight, because it actually kind of stings my scalp a little as my hair falls down. The pencil skirt that looks as cool and smart as hell still looks great, but guess what? It also is too tight. Everything is too fucking tight, including me - I'm wound up too tight. This day has sucked monkey balls.

I pad into the kitchen, wincing as I walk, and immediately reach for the milk. This is a hot chocolate moment. I don't have the patience to boil it in a pan however, so it's just going to get nuked in the microwave. You know it's bad when I reach for my big purple Eeyore mug. Eeyore is my little guy; he's so cute and melancholy - just makes it all the nicer when I see him smiling a hopeful but unsure little smile, as he is on my mug. Yes, I'm a freakin' saddo who takes comfort in Disney but right now I don't give a flying rat's ass. As my milk and Eeyore are getting toasty warm through the wonders of technology, I go for another technological wonder and hit the play button on my blinking answer machine.

"Hey, it's Rach!" How does she always sound so mellow and un-harried? I want that. "Hope the big interviews went okay, and if not I will totally come over there with Ben and Jerry's. I might even suffer through Dirty Dancing for you. Later!"

I smile wistfully at the machine as if it were her, even as I delete the message. I'll have to think about that offer, because it's sure as hell tempting.

"Hey, it's me!" 'Me' in this case is Trace. "Hope it went good. And Lynn's glaring at me like I'm totally retarded and she just said of course it went good. But I can still hope it went good even if I'm sure it did. Whatever. See ya when I see ya."

A scowl passes over my face when I hear the next one "Chica, it's Sophie. It's seems like we have a standoff here - I don't want to give up until you talk to me and you don't want to give up until I give up. We both know I am way more stubborn than you so you should just save yourself some hassle and talk to me sooner rather than later. I miss you, honey."

"Chelsea, sweetheart, it's Mom. We're flying in next Wednesday but we won't be in until late so we're saving the reunion dinner until Thursday night, at Lisa's for eight o clock. I can't wait to see you!" That was a more boring one; I'm not scowling so much at that. I haven't seen Mom and Dad for a while, but the beauty of it is that they're not staying long and they've got a lot scheduled. I will get a nice dose of Mommy time without her staying so long she drives me crazy. Perfect!

Then comes more scowling - my next voicemail is another unwelcome one. Hearing her voice kicks up a gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach. "Hey, it's Ken. I don't care if I have to stalk you to the end of your days, you will hear me out and then you will see how I'm stupid but not a stupid bitch. You love me too much to live without me, even if you might need to kick my ass first and get it out of your system. I love you, babe. CALL ME."

The last message, dare I admit it, is the one that makes me feel better as I'm stirring cocoa powder into my hot chocolate and pulling out my earrings.

"Hey pretty lady…" Justin growls in a deep voice. "Nah, I'm just kidding, About the stupid Barry White voice, I mean, not that you're pretty - and also a lady. I hope it went well, I don't see how it couldn't have what with me picking your lucky underwear. I never miss! Speaking of underwear, I hope yours has all finally dried out. I don't know about you but it was certainly a good start to the morning for me. If you feel like celebrating, give me a call. If you don't feel like celebrating, give me a call any way. If you just don't feel like calling me… tough shit, I'm your boss, you have to! Oh, and Mom says hi. And that I shouldn't swear on answer machines. Fuck that."

I can't help it. I begin the slow, stutter-filled laughter of somebody who doesn't really want to have been cheered up but kind of was anyway. Part of it is the memory of this morning, him walking into my bathroom and being oddly fascinated yet clearly a little turned on by me having hung some of my bras over the shower rail to dry (they're hand wash only, it's a pain). I told him sometimes girls have to do that, but he seemed more concerned with eyeing up the goodies and thrilling himself at the thought of having seen so much of my underwear collection. He then off the back of this insisted on choosing my 'lucky-guaranteed-to-win-you-that-job' set to wear to my interview, to which I told him that'd only work if I gave the guy a strip tease.

Trust a guy to pick the most impractical underwear set I own just because it's revealing.

The other part of the cheer up factor is just him. That was one of the dorkiest messages I have ever received, save one from Will where he sang 'You Are My Sunshine' into the phone. Even in my most blinkered state of blissful 'thinking Will was perfect' love, I knew that was lame. Weirdly, it's not lame when Justin leaves me stupid messages. He makes me laugh. The man, when he decides not to be so concerned with his cool persona, is really goofy and funny. Goofy and funny is a quality I like, because it helps me be more goofy and funny. I have trouble with that on my own; I can be a little uptight.

Sipping my hot chocolate as I go (which has been nuked a little too long and burns my tongue) I pad into my bedroom and quickly strip off my nice interview outfit. I throw on the pair of Juicy sweatpants I haven't worn since they went out of fashion and a tank top, pile all my jewellery on my bedside table instead of neatly putting it away like I normally would, and then I throw myself onto the sofa. Lord, I hate this day. When did my life start royally sucking?

Oh yeah, I remember. It was when I got fired. You know, they lie when they tell you that you can go out into the big wide world and be anything you want to be. The world has ideas of its own. Unless of course it's just me… sometimes I wonder if it is just me. I'm around people like Sophie and Justin and all these huge names who are living their dreams and I think it has to just be me, because clearly it's not impossible. What am I doing wrong?

Great, now I'm depressed. I pick up the phone, mug in the other hand, and quickly dial Justin's cell as I curl up in a ball.

"Chels! How'd it go babe?"

"How'd you know it was me?" I ask.

"The same way everybody does - I looked at my phone and the caller ID told me."

"You sure you didn't just give me some cheesy ring tone?"

"Okay, you got me. You're 'Smack That,' naturally."

"I better not be."

"Ouch." I can almost see his grimacing into the phone. He was funny but I am just not in the mood for joking about this. "Lost sense of humour, not a good sign. Did it not go so well?"

"I feel like I've been grilled."

"Medium or well done?"

"Charcoal," I whimper as I put my hot chocolate down and rub my face apprehensively.

"Well, you know, these big execs like to put you through the wringer to see how you perform, is all. You've probably done better than you think; they just wanted to see how you cope under pressure." Bless him, he's trying to be encouraging but it just sends me spiralling into panic that I showed them not very much. I decided that I wasn't going to get very far with producing jobs just yet, but pimping myself around the actors isn't going to move me any closer so I've gone for positions with various people at various production companies. I'd still be a PA, but at least the experience will be that bit more relevant.

I wiggle my toes, staring at my new peach pedicure as if it'll reassure me or rouse me into some brilliant light bulb moment. "Maybe. I'm just not sure how well I fielded everything though. Especially the why did I leave my old job conundrum, that was nasty."

"What did you say?"

"Made up some shit about wanting to move closer to the production side of the business rather than the talent and feeling now was the time."

"At least the first part's true," he offers up. Again, I have to let out that reluctant chuckle - I don't want to feel better, but I kind of do. "You're welcome here if you want company and a cheering section. Rachael made me buy Ben and Jerry's for you. Said I had to because she promised."

"Why do you have to buy me ice cream because she promised?"

"That's what I said!" He exclaims. "Seriously though, come over if you want."

"I got plans," I tell him. "Maybe tomorrow? I have to bring those scripts over for you anyway."

"Cool. See you then." He hesitates for a moment, like he's going to say something else, but it never comes.

"Au revoir."

***

So I kind of lied to Justin when I said I had plans. Well, I was planning to have plans, but nothing was set in concrete. I hadn't even made the phone call yet. When he asked I was tempted just to run over there and hide for the night, but I decided that I had better suck it up and do it while I was in the mood to. I say in the mood… I'm never exactly going to be in the mood for this, but I'm feeling vaguely like it would be a good idea so I picked up the phone and I did it. I haven't been so nervous since my first date, but I did it.

The knock on the door tells me my visitor is finally here, and I have to wipe my perspiring palms on my sweatpants. Good thing they're black. My heart's in my throat and I'm practically trembling with trepidation. All the same, there's a ball of determination in my stomach. I get to the door, pause with my hand on the knob to take a deep breath, and then swing it open.

Kennedy and I stare at each other lamely for ten seconds or before she says "snap." I look down and almost smile when I realise we match today. Don't they wish their girlfriends were hot like us?

"Come on in," I finally manage to say, leaving her to trail in after me and shut the door.

There are a few minor pleasantries, offering of beverages and so on. Mostly it's this big awkward silence that echoes between the two of us. I play with my hair and she fiddles with her bangles. That's how we express discomfort, we fidget. She comments on my new lamp and I comment on her new hair. We sip Pepsi and react like it's the yummiest thing ever, and we do everything except what we both know she's here for.

"Shit," Kennedy finally lets out with a sheepish smile. "I have no idea whether I start or you start or we just go through some more small talk or something."

"Me either." A deep shrug lifts my shoulders momentarily.

"Okay, I have no idea why Sophie fired you." This was a bad start and I feel my face going purple, but before I can get too outraged she rushes on. "I mean, okay, I totally bitched her out and even if she hadn't fired you I think you'd have been mad at me, but I so did not tell her to fire you. I have no idea where she came up with that, honestly."

"Well, hey, she got it from somewhere!" I grouch indignantly. "What the fuck did you say to her?"

"She called me bugging me about where you are like you're her dog on a leash, sometimes I think she would seriously have considered micro chipping you…"

"Excuse me! Bitch fest not scoring you points here!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just that I've been wanting to say this to you for so long and you haven't been talking to me and it's all just kind of been bubbling up, you know, and…"

There are few pauses for air in her babbling and finally I have to intervene. "Kennedy. Calm. Yourself. Could you breathe a second?"

I was half joking, but she does take a few moments to inhale some deep breaths. It's one of the breathing exercises I've seen her do before performing, she says it balances her chi or some New Age mumbo jumbo. Breathing seems to be the only thing she's even remotely New Age about, but I never claimed she was anything if not quirky.

"I'm sorry." She sounds a little calmer. "I just… I feel horrible. I know I did wrong, going off on her like that, but you know how the way she treats you bugs me. But she called and was yammering at me and I snapped. I told her what I thought of the way she treated you and I said she holds you back and she needed to get a clue, but I swear I never told her to fire you or that you should leave your job or anything. I mean, I did say you were too good for her, but I still have no idea how she got that she should fire you out of it. I swear if I had known she'd go off and do something crazy I would have buttoned my lip. Swear."

"So where did she get it from?" I throw my hands up in the air.

She holds out her palms and shrugs. "Grossly inaccurate interpretation of me telling her she wouldn't be so awful to you if she cared about you? Other than that I got nothing."

"Word for word," I command. "What did you say?"

"There were various examples of the stupid things she does and name calling and shit, but basically 'she could do so much better and if you cared about her at all you'd start treating her better than some brain dead slave.' I swear there was no hint of any job loss in there!"

We fall silently as I mull this over, playing with the hem of my sleeve. Trying to picture the scene in my head, I can honestly see this. I'm sure Kennedy has seriously edited for expletives, but this rings true. I can hear Sophie trying to butt in and letting out some Spanish swearing herself, but I can't honestly see Kennedy outright telling her that she should let me go or whatever. I can hear her getting high and mighty and self righteous and being a total bitch to Sophie, but I smell no lies here.

"I just… why would she do that?" Funnily enough it's her asking the question, not moi.

"You're asking me?" I raise an eyebrow at her.

"I just… I mean, yeah, I told her she needed to get a freaking clue but I just meant she should start being nicer to you and not taking you for granted so much. I never saw this coming, even from her."

"That whole conversation was not her," I tell Kennedy sadly, tears springing to my eyes. "It was like talking to a pod person."

Then, as if this not-exactly-negligible period of estrangement had never happened, she wraps her arms around me and lets me cry into her shoulder. I feel stupid, I hate crying, but something inside seems to lift. Not talking to Kennedy is unnatural to me, even if I did have what I thought was a really good reason. Hanging with Justin for all this time hasn't exactly been terrible, but when I'm with him and Rachael and Trace I do kind of feel like I'm with his people. They're friends with me and have never made me feel anything except totally accepted, but I still feel like there's that line there, and without Kennedy (who is well and truly my people) I feel vulnerable.

Of course the lack of employment doesn't help with that either.

"Shh," she coos as she rubs a hand over my back, the brisk way my mother used to do. It's like she was saying a silent 'buck up, you'll be fine.' "It'll be okay. You're better off without her if that's how little she values you. Least you get to go get a new kick ass job now."

"Heh." I wipe at my wet cheeks with a sleeve. "I had interviews today and it was awful."

"Really?" She winces sympathetically.

"I'm not quite suicidal, but I was listening to country music on the way home."

"Oh shit. Red alert. You, me, ice cream parlour. I'm driving."

It's strange, how oddly easy it is. After this long period of ignoring her, and all that anger and bad will I had towards her, she's been here all of half an hour and she's forgiven. That's it. There'll be no more recrimination, we will step right back into our friendship like this was some insignificant blip that never happened. We'll go out, she'll load me up on sugar and talk to me and I'll feel better. I guess I just love her, is all. She's my soul mate. Well, if I get a 'friend' soul mate as well as the love of my life kind of soul mate. If I even get one of those.

Wait, yet more maudlin thoughts. She's right, I need my ice cream. I'm rushing for shoes right now.