Page 92 of The Summer List

“Naomi?” I wheeze.

She’s pressed against the wall right around the corner, her eyes wide and her face going paler by the second.

“I’m sorry!” she yelps. “We heard about the party, and then Shal got in a car and we couldn’t let her come alone because she’s drunk, and then I let myself in to look for you, and I heard…”

Her voice peters out and her eyes somehow get even rounder as her gaze darts between me and the kitchen, where my mom is still hovering out of sight

“I’ll just go now,” she squeaks, already backing away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to listen in. I—”

I step closer.

“Naomi, wait.”

She goes still as I walk over until there are only a couple feet of space left between us. I don’t close the distance. I don’t know where we stand. All I know is that I can’t stop staring at her, that I never want to stop staring at her, that I’m drinking the sight of her in like she’s a thundering waterfall and I haven’t had even a drop to drink in days.

I watch her throat bob as she swallows, and then she speaks in a low voice.

“You did let me down.”

I wince, pain radiating through my ribcage as I brace for her to turn and leave.

“But I think maybe I needed that,” she adds. “I needed to know I could count on myself.”

I open my mouth to answer, but before I get a chance, I hear footsteps behind me and see her eyes go wide again as she stares over my shoulder at my mom. I glance behind me too and see her watching me and Naomi with an expression that almost looks tender before she catches me staring and wipes it off her face.

“I’m going back to the hotel,” she announces. “I…I need to think about all this.”

We step aside as she crosses the entryway. She turns to walk back over to us just before she reaches the door and then thrusts her hand out towards Naomi.

“I’m Valerie. I apologize for us needing to meet like this.”

Naomi accepts the handshake, her eyes now so wide I’d laugh if I felt like it were possible to find anything about this moment funny.

“I-I’m Naomi, and, um, no problem.”

My mom shifts her purse back into place and then heads for the door. She looks back at me once she’s pulled it open, and I see it again, for just another second: that tenderness, that softness I’ve always been looking for but never found.

“Andrea…I do want you to be happy. I always have.”

She leaves before I have a chance to answer. I stand there staring after her for so long Naomi asks if I’m okay.

I nod even though I wouldn’t say ‘okay’ is the best word for how I’m feeling. Then I ask, “How much of that did you hear?”

“I think all of it. I’m pretty sure I showed up just after she did.”

I wince as I start replaying the whole conversation, trying to gauge what Naomi’s reaction must have been.

Then I realize it doesn’t matter. She heard the truth, and the truth is all I can give her.

She heard the truth, and she’s still here.

“Andrea, I—”

She takes a step closer, but I interrupt before she can say more.

“I know I messed up. I’m so sorry. I hurt you. I should have stepped up for you. I’m just so sorry, Naomi.”

She tilts her head, two faint lines appearing between her eyebrows as she considers me for a moment.

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