Page 19 of Promise Kept

I remind myself that I just need to get her to her bed and…

“I think I’m going to puke,” Larissa whispers to me.

I guide her toward a trashcan.

She puts her hand out and touches my stomach.

She takes a deep breath.

“I’m fine,” she whispers. “I live on the second floor. There’s an elevator but I don’t trust it.”

“The steps it is then,” I say.

I walk her to the second floor, where when I ask if she has a key, she points to a doormat with a faded sunflower on it.

The word WELCOME has been reduced to just WELCO.

I find the dirty key and stick it into the lock and we are now going inside her apartment.

Larissa stumbles forward and hurries toward the couch to swipe a bra off the back of it.

She looks over her shoulder at me and twirls the bra around her pointer finger.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

I don’t acknowledge the lime-green bra and just stand there.

The apartment is what I’d assume for a single woman her age, going at it alone.

It’s small, but not crammed.

It’s not dirty or bug-infested or anything like that.

It’s very open.

The living room is the entranceway.

The dining room table is right behind the couch.

The kitchen is to my left.

No walls separate the rooms.

The bedroom is off the dining area.

Larissa appears from her bedroom and I tell myself I’m not going to think about the lime-green bra or where she put it or why it was on the back of the couch.

She points to the kitchen and walks sideways a little, smiling at me.

“I’m going to drink some water,” she announces.

“That’s a smart decision, Larissa,” I call out.

She makes it to the fridge and opens it.

I catch a quick glimpse of what seems like a mostly empty fridge.

She does get a bottle of water.

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