Page 48 of When The Rain Falls

I just huff at that. Right. Me andallmy ladies.

"What would Rebecca think?" she asks as she chews on a fry. The parking lot in front of Shady's Drive In is empty, except for us. The single lamppost casts a flickering, fluorescent glow around us. Beyond that, there's nothing but darkness. It feels like we're alone, in the little bubble of the warm cab.

"Huh?" I ask her, confused. I'm not sure what Rebecca has to do with this moment. Also, how does she know Rebecca?

"What does she think about you rescuing women and taking them to the drive thru at 10:00 p.m.?" Aimee studies my face for a response.

"It's not exactly a habit of mine," I tell her. I don't tell her that I do everything possible to avoid being in situations like this. Being alone in dark parking lots with members of the opposite sex. And I don't tell her why. Ican'ttell her why. I also can't tell her that not looking up her thigh is taking nearly all my self-control. "She'd probably encourage it, actually," I say honestly.

"Really?" Aimee's tone is flooded with surprise. I wrinkle my forehead at her. Now I'm even more confused.

"Wait. Who do you think Rebeccais?" I ask.

"Yourgirlfriend?" The way she says it sounds more like an accusation than a question. The answer hits me in the funny bone. I've never. Not once in my life. Ever looked at Rebecca like that.

"Nope," I say. "Defffffffffinitely not," I draw out the syllables for emphasis.

"Wait. Then who is she?" Now it's Aimee's turn to look confused.

"My law partner," I clarify. "And friend, I guess."

"You guess?"

"I inherited her," I explain as I stick a French fry in my mouth and chew.

"Ok. You'll have to explain that one. I didn’t know you could inherit friends. Because if that’s a thing, I need to get on some list." Aimee sets her burger down to wipe both hands with a napkin.

I stick another fry in my mouth. The salt puckers my lips as the delicacy melts against my teeth as I chew. Fries always taste better when you're supposed to be in bed. Aimee eyes my French fries and it reminds me that she declined to order her own.

“You want one?” I shake my package of fries at her.

Aimee’s eyes shoot to mine and her face turns a shade paler. I look down at the fries to see if maybe a bug snuck into the package. Nope. Just delicious, greasy fries. Heart attack wrapped in paper.

“Don’t tell me you have a thing against fries.” I nudge the fries back in her direction. “Shady’s fries are legendary.”

“No,” she finally says. She slips two tentative fingers into the bag and pulls out three crispy fries. She gives me a weird smile as she takes a bite. Ok, then. The woman is weird for fries.

"Rebecca was Laurel's best friend. I met the two of them in law school," I explain. "When we got married, Laurel told me that it was a package deal and I had inherited Rebecca as my friend," I tell her. "Not sure how Rebecca felt about that. But it worked out alright. And then, after…we've been in practice together almost seven years now."

Aimee chews on the last of her fries. I watch her throat bob delicately as she swallows. "Laurel, what happened?” she asks me carefully. Talking about her like this always hits me in the gut. I just nod.

"It was nine years ago," I say flatly. "I'm sure you don't really want to hear it," I say with a sigh. People don’t really want to talk about things like death, grief, and sadness. They just ask to bepolite. And that might be one reason why I never talk about it. I drop the fry I just picked up and look out my side window.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Aimee's voice is gentle. Like's she's carefully unearthing a fragile ancient artifact. I take a deep breath. The breath turns into a heavy sigh.

"Sepsis." I give her one word. Because one word is all I can handle in this precise moment.

"Sepsis? What's that?" she asks quietly. And fuck. I wish I lived in a world where I didn't know what that word means. Where I didn't have any reason to know what it means. Somewhere, deep inside, I find the strength to keep talking. Although, I'm not sure where the words come from.

"She was pregnant," I say. That's four whole words now. Maybe Icando this. "She got an infection. One that you need to treat right away. We didn't catch it. Not in time." I drop my head slightly, fighting back the pressure behind my eyes. Why is this still so hard to talk about? It's a huge part of my life, a shadow that follows me around everywhere, but somehow, I can't acknowledge it out loud.

Aimee's quiet for a beat or two. "Oh. That sucks," she finally says. She drops the remaining piece of burger in her lap. “Shit. That really sucks. I’m sorry I asked.”

“No, it’s ok,” I assure her. “I need to be better at talking about her.”

“I saw the photo you sent Ruby. She was pretty. The girls look so much like her.”

"Yeah. I notice that," I answer quietly. “I notice that every day.” Silence settles between us for a moment. And then I have a strong urge to change the subject.

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