Page 3 of This Kind of Forever
I nod. “I’m fine. I just…thought I saw Hallie.”
His eyes narrow. “Why would she be here?”
She wouldn’t. That’s the problem. There is no logical reason why she would be at Kip Island Public School, so why did I see blonde hair that isn’t even the same shade as hers and almost lose my mind?
I wave him off. “Abbs and I are gonna head out. I’ll see you at work, boss.”
I leave Luke standing there with a worried crease between his brows. He has a bad habit of thinking he’s responsible for me and our sister, even though we’re grown adults. But whether he thinks it or not, I’ll be fine.
Hallie is back. She clearly doesn’t want to see me, but she’ll be around. That’s just something I’ll have to accept. And eventually, I’ll move on—I’ll stop seeing her in every blonde woman that crosses my path.
I’ll be fine.
TWO
HALLIE
“Rise and shine, babycakes!”
I groan as sunlight blasts through the living room, thanks to the curtains my best friend just threw open. The light illuminates our cramped quarters, which have been made worse by the piles of moving boxes shoved into the available spaces around the room. Same as when I first left home, I don’t have much in the way of belongings, but Clara’s apartment isreallysmall.
“Too bright,” I whine, pulling my blanket over my head. Until it’s rudely ripped away.
“Up,” Clara demands. In answer to my quizzical look, she nudges my knee. “You’re not allowed to wallow on my couch today. This is now a wallow-free zone.”
I pout. “But I’m comfy.”
“Hallie, babe, I love you, but this isn’t you.” She shoves my legs aside and perches on the edge of the couch cushion. “Where has my bestie girl gone?”
I lost her, and I’m not sure how to get her back.
I’ve known Clara Bowman since our first day of kindergarten twenty-four years ago. We’ve been inseparable since. For the first few years, our teachers had a hard time telling us apart. We were both blonde, and we often wore similar outfits. The only difference was Clara’s were new while mine were hand-me-downs and thrift store purchases.
When we hit our teen years, though, things changed. Clara started to stand out while I wanted nothing more than to fade into the background. I worried sometimes that she would tire of me, but she hasn’t left my side, even when I left hers.
“She’s on strike. Try again tomorrow.” I attempt to pull my blanket back up, but Clara doesn’t budge.
“I know being back home feels weird, but hiding away inside is only going to prolong the inevitable,” she says.
She’s right. Returning home and winding up on her doorstep, tail tucked between my legs, is certainly not how I pictured my life going when I set my sights on the city all those years ago. Leaving the island behind for the lure of the unknown—for this big city that wouldn’t hesitate to chew me up and spit me out—felt preferable to staying stagnant in this town that was slowly bleeding me dry.
I was damned no matter how you sliced it, so I took the coward’s way out. But life is a circle, and one way or another, you end up back where you started. For me, that place is Kip Island.
Hemmed in on all sides by the waters of Lake Huron, the island is a popular tourist destination when the weather is warm. Cottagers flock here on the weekends and holidays during the summer months. For the people who live here year-round, the island is home. A community. Family.
That closeness was both a blessing and a curse growing up. Now that I’m back, I haven’t yet decided which is most true.
I offer Clara a small smile. “I’m scared.”
While I’m not a celebrity by any stretch of the imagination, every resident of the island has a certain level of notoriety among the locals. My family is well-known in that regard, for reasons a lot less wholesome than the Bowmans’. Growing up, my mother was something of a problem child, and as a result, I had all kinds of eyes on me. Waiting to see if I’d follow in her footsteps.
Clara’s eyes soften, and she takes my hands in hers. “You’re going to figure things out, Hallie. Losing your job and giving up your apartment in such a small span is a lot of change. That would throw anyone for a loop. But as your best friend, it’s my duty to keep you from withering away in here while life passes you by.”
Guilt churns in my stomach. Clara took me in without hesitation when I came back to town ten days ago. Her apartment is barely a one-bedroom. As it is, she has little space for her home library—an impressive collection of books she has been curating for years—yet she hasn’t complained once about sharing it with me. I need to get myself together.
“Can you do me a favour?” she asks. “Just this one thing, and that’ll be your accomplishment for the day.”
I nod. It’s the least I can do. While I’ve been doing my best to clean up after myself and keep out of her way, I feel a little bad that I’ve essentially commandeered her living room for the foreseeable future.
