Page 18 of Dear Ripley

I grumbled, dropping into my seat. “I fell asleep on the floor.”

“On the floor?” Mom asked, outraged, as she placed a casserole dish in the middle of the table. “How did that happen? Are you okay?”

I waved her off. “I’m good. Just not young enough to be sleeping on the floor anymore.”

“I’ll say,” Joel said immediately, his eyes going wide.

“I’ll murder you with a spatula,” I threatened darkly.

“With those weak, elderly muscles? Can’t see it.”

I threw my napkin at him. “I’m thirty-eight, not three-hundred-and-eight.”

“Could have fooled me with your face like that.”

“Be nice,” Dad said, shooting Joel a look, one strong enough to work on him, even if he was an adult these days.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Just kidding, just kidding. She looks great.”

“Nah. She looks like shit, but there’s no need to be rude about it.”

“Gee. Thanks, Dad,” I said, looking around the table for support. “Come all this way, fall asleep on the floor, and get insulted. Great trip.”

“Well, maybe try sleeping on the bed instead next time.”

“I wasn’t—” I shook my head, taking the ladle from him and spooning food onto my plate. If we talked about me sleeping on the floor too much, they’d want to know why I was down there to begin with, and I wasn’t sure I really wanted to get into it. I wasn’t sure in my own mind exactly what had happened when I saw Ripley, I definitely wasn’t in a space to try explaining it to them. They’d only worry and that would make it worse than it already was—which didn’t seem possible, but I knew better than to tempt fate.

I changed the subject, ate my food, and pretended this afternoon hadn’t happened. A strategy that worked exceedingly well, against all odds. It turned out that having three people to talk to, and a good meal inside you, did wonders for distracting you.

“Hello, Burton family,” Edith called into the house when she entered, right as we were wrapping up dessert and Mom was in the middle of making tiny coffees for her and Dad.

I smiled, happy to see her but also amused at having forgotten how everyone walked into each other’s homes here. If one of my neighbors tried to walk into my apartment unannounced, I’d be calling someone to remove them, not offering them cake and coffee.

“Ready to get your girl back?” Dad asked, scooting his chair over before moving to grab a spare to pull up for Edith.

“Absolutely,” she said, clapping her hands together in that way she’d always had. The gesture—so familiar as it was—made it feel like I was bleeding internally. Everything and everyone here was a reminder of another life with Ripley, even when I was trying hard to stop the two from colliding. “It’s been too long, having her so far away. And coming home with a baby… I can’t wait.”

My mom reached over to clasp her hand. “We really are so thrilled for you both. She’s waited a long time for this.”

Edith nodded, blinking furiously. “She really has. But I always believed. I knew this day would come, and here we are. Harlow coming home, and only a few months until I’m a grandma.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Dad said, raising his mini coffee cup into the air. The sight of them always amused me. When Mom had mentioned wanting to buy a set of mini coffee mugs she’d seen, so the pair of them could have tiny after-dinner coffees, he’d been so uninterested. However, once they’d shown up, he’d changed his tune, oddly mesmerized by the tiny mugs. It was probably because they made him feel like a powerful giant or something.

Either way, these days, the tiny after-dinner coffees were a way of life, a routine my parents didn’t miss, and one Joel joined in with simply so he could take shots of coffee to help keep him up half the night.

But holding a toast with them was still a fairly odd sight. Not so odd that I wasn’t joining in—it was a toast to my best friend and her much-deserved happiness—but still amusing.

Edith gushed and ate, and I worked hard not to register every time she clapped her hands excitedly, and, before I knew it, we were heading out to her car and off to collect Harlow.

Even with the memory of Ripley strong in my mind, knowing Harlow was close by made everything feel a little better. I was doing this for her and her baby. I could get over whatever this afternoon was for the two of them.

I slipped into the passenger seat. Once we’d picked up Harlow, I’d give the seat up to her, but riding in the back when it was just the two of us would have been bizarre, as though I thought my best friend’s mom was my personal chauffeur, or something equally obnoxious.

“I can’t wait to have her home,” Edith whispered as the car came to life.

“Me too,” I replied, genuinely. I’d worried about her being here, about never being able to see her because of everything that Jackson Point was, but I was here now. The worst had, literally, happened, and I was still utterly and completely overjoyed at Harlow coming home, being safe, and bringing her child to the place she wanted to raise them. Emotions could be complicated, but they could be simple too. Harlow wanted to come home. I wanted that for her, and I was sure as hell going to be there for it all. No matter what else was going on.

“I got her the most beautiful flowers,” she said, gesturing to the back seat.

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