Page 101 of We Used To Be Magic

‘I know you’re awake,’ she says. ‘Go get it.’

‘It’s your apartment,’ I reply thickly, keeping my eyes stubbornly shut. ‘If it’s a parcel then they can leave it outside.’

‘It’s not a parcel,’ she says, shutting her book with a snap. ‘Go on. I’ll make coffee.’

‘Jesus.’ I groan, forcing myself upwards and shuffling towards the door. ‘Are you staging an intervention?’

‘Good one!’ she calls back, just as I open the door to Maggie in a baggy blue sweatshirt, arms laden with bags.

‘I brought you some clothes,’ she says, proffering one. ‘Caroline mentioned you slept here.’

Fuck. Thisisan intervention.

‘Uh – thanks,’ I say, taking it. I didn’t even realise that she and Caroline were on speaking terms again. Maybe they weren’t, but my meltdown was the catalyst for reconciliation – a mortifying prospect.

‘I wasn’t sure what you guys would be in the mood for,’ she says, sweeping past me and dumping the rest of the bags on the coffee table. ‘I went to that deli near my office—’

‘Oh, that place is amazing,’ Caroline interjects, having reappeared with plates and cutlery. ‘Did you get the potato salad? The one with the fennel?’

‘Uh-huh. Tom isobsessedwith it.’

‘Romy literally buys it in bulk. Are you going to sit down?’

I realise with a start that Caroline is addressing me now.

‘Yeah, uh – I didn’t realise that we were doing lunch today,’ I manage.

‘Among other things,’ she replies brightly. ‘We’ll multitask.’

There it is. I grip the bag tightly, fighting the impulse to run – I’m so comically hungover that I’d probably concuss myself on the doorframe.

‘We’re not trying to gang up on you,’ Maggie informs me, busily unloading cartons and boxes. ‘But it’ll be good for us to create an open dialogue.’

‘A what?’ I laugh, and her cheeks colour.

‘It’s something I’ve been working on with my therapist,’ she says. ‘Dialogue. Expression.’

Shit.I try to sneak a glance at Caroline but she’s back in the kitchen. This is brand new information, and now I feel a total prick for laughing.

‘It’s a recent thing,’ Maggie adds, clearly flustered.

‘That’s great,’ I say quickly, attempting to backtrack. ‘I mean – you’re liking it, right?’

‘It’s been productive. Difficult. But overall good.’

‘Good. Glad that it’s … good.’

‘It is,’ she says. Then, after a beat, ‘We talk about Mum.’

Oh God. Hungover or otherwise, I’m not equipped to deal with this. Caroline must have told her about last night’s performance – Maggie might even know more about it than I do, seeing as I don’t remember anything between vomiting in the bathtub and waking up on the sofa.

‘And – I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn’t,’ she continues solemnly. ‘Talk about her, I mean. What happened on your birthday …’

‘I told you, it’s fine.’

‘But it’s not,’ Caroline says – she’s back with the coffee. ‘If we hadn’t been bickering we might have noticed that you drank an entire bottle of wine by yourself.’

‘Who did?’ I demand, affronted.

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