Page 24 of Love Bitters

Imogene

“Shit,” I curse for the third time as I juggle all the bags in my hands. The damn things aren’t heavy, but they are super awkward seeing as most of it is odd-shaped boxes and what not. I should’ve just made the extra trip out to the car and not been ridiculous about trying to grab all the bags at once. Mother used to give Lizbeth and I hell over it. She never could figure out why we’d rather struggle through the house like baby deer on new legs, knocking shit over and falling once or twice ourselves, instead of just making that second trip out to the car.

The thought makes me smile. Guess old habits die hard as they say. As I fumble to my door, I’ve made it all the way to the point of sticking the key in to unlock it when my paperback falls out of the side pocket on my purse. Shaking my head with a sigh, I make the choice to abandon it and come back once I’ve set the groceries down. There’s never anyone around anyway, so it’s not like someone will take it.

“Hey,” a voice calls down the small breezeway. “Need some help?”

“Nah, I’m okay,” I reply without turning around.

Movement at my back causes me to stiffen automatically and turn slightly. The woman I saw the day I moved in is already swooping down to rescue my fallen book. When she stands, I get that same weird sense of déjà vu like I know her from somewhere. I reach out to take the novel from her which is ridiculous considering I have no hands to grab it with.

We both let out a short laugh, and she steps up to take the milk from my fingertips as she says, “I’d have said no in your shoes too, but I’m already here. I can hold it at the door for you if you want.”

“It’s fine,” I tell her finally pushing the door open. “You can come in if you’d like. I don’t have anything embarrassing laying around or anything.”

“Wow. No offense or anything but I think we match each other in tastes.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, setting the bags on the counter.

She hands me the milk and moves to the end of the bar nearest the door as she says, “The whole white walls, basic furniture, not a whole lot of personal objects lying around. That kind of thing.”

“Oh.” I frown. “Yeah, I’ve only signed a six-month lease at this point, so I didn’t really want to get too comfortable until I know for sure I’m staying.”

“Well, that makes total sense,” she says nodding. “At least yours smells better.”

“You have pets or backed up sewage or something?” I ask jokingly, slowly starting to put the rest of the groceries away.

She laughs. “I wish it was and not as humiliating as it is.”

My brows pull down in confusion as I glance back at her while she picks at a loose thread on her shirt. There’s no hiding her skinniness beneath the top and blue jeans she wears, and I’m almost jealous of how much that affects her neck, making it appear long and graceful. The sides of her hair are buzzed, leaving a long portion up top that she’s got laid straight back. Every feature about her is perfectly proportioned. From her dainty little ears with their single studs to her bluish-green eyes and small nose that’s upturned slightly on the end.

“I can’t cook,” she confesses. I huff out a short laugh, and she follows before adding, “No, for real. Every single thing I’ve tried to cook has been an absolute nightmare. I’ve burned more than I’ve eaten in weeks. My whole apartment probably needs to be condemned from smell alone.”

We laugh together again and she keeps going. “It’s truly sad. I’m a disgrace to a Southern woman. My mama tried teaching me forever ago, but I always had better places to be. Guess I should’ve paid a little more attention to those lessons.”

“Well, at least there’s pizza and microwavable dinners, so you won’t starve,” I say, shrugging and tossing a box of chocolate peanut butter cereal on top of the fridge.

“That’s true,” she chuckles.

Now that all the bags are empty and I’ve got nothing else to occupy my hands, I can’t stop myself from asking, “Have we met before? I know that sounds stupid, but I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

This time her laugh is loud, echoing around my kitchen. “You don’t know who I am?”

I wrack my brain trying my best not to make a fool of myself if we’ve met before. Witless pregnancy brain I’ve got going on right now is a serious pain in the ass. Giving up, I finally shake my head and tell her, “I’m sorry. I really don’t. My head isn’t the clearest recently, so if we’ve met somewhere before, I’m not going to lie and say I remember your name.”

She snickers. “We’ve never met before. You might recognize my face from a couple movies I’ve worked on. I’m Abilene Banks.”

I snap my fingers and point at her as it comes into focus with her words. “Holy shit. I loved your last movie, too. I’m legit as dumb as a doorknob these days.”

At her questioning gaze, I give in and point to my temple as I admit, “I’m pregnant, and the baby is stealing all my brain juice.”

“I’ve heard that’s a real thing,” she says in all seriousness. “More power to you, girl. I can barely take care of myself. Adding a tiny human to the mix would be an absolute disaster.”

“You’re telling me,” I grumble.

“Well, I think I’ll probably peace on out before I wear out my welcome,” she says, backtracking to the door.

Making friends with Jolene and divulging my secrets has apparently made me a loose-lipped Lucy because once again, words flow from my mouth without a filter. “Would you like to stay for dinner? I’m just making this easy Frito Pie thing, but I can promise it won’t be burnt or come out of a takeout container.”

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