Page 88 of Every Step She Takes
She kisses my arm, and then my collarbone, and then my throat, and then my cheek, chasing the places my anxiety has conquered. Then she kisses my mouth in this gentle, unhurried way that loosens something inside me.
“You know what I want?” Mal asks my collarbone. “I want to see if Drew and Jonathan put shiplap in the Ramos’s living room.”
The last of my shame seeps out of me. “Well, it’s not 2018, so they won’t.”
“Let’s find out.” She reaches for my phone on the nightstand and cues upProperty Brothers. Then, she gets my snacks from the forgotten grocery bag, and I discover I’m starving as soon as I take a bite of granola bar. Mal doesn’t put her shirt back on, and I eat in bed while Jonathan swings his sledgehammer, taking down yet another load-bearing wall.
“Asbestos?” Mal gasps on the bed next to me. “Wow, I did not see that one coming.”
TWENTY-ONEBAIONA, SPAINTuesday, May 20, 2025
Sadie
It’s not a banging that wakes me up this time, but a buzzing. I scramble through the sheets, trying to locate my phone, and my hands collide with something solid and not at all phone-like.
It’s Mal. We fell asleep in the pushed-together beds, watching episodes ofForever Home, and when I peel open my eyes, I see that she’s still topless, lying on her back with her legs spread wide like a beautiful corpse. Her jaw looks unhinged, and her pillow is wet from her sleep drool, and I can’t believe this imperfectly perfect woman touched every inch of me last night.
I watch her almost imperceptible breaths, and then I remember my buzzing phone.
When I finally find it on the nightstand, it’s my sister’s face on the screen. I slink out of bed as quietly as I can.
“Hello?” I whisper into the phone once the bathroom door is closed behind me.
“Sadie!” Vi shouts, and I hold the phone a safe distance from my ear. “What the hell?”
That seems like my line. I hunker down on the closed toilet and wait to see why she’s calling me at five thirty in the morning.
Vi cries out. “I thought you were dead! You’ve been dodging my calls for days!”
I have not been dodging her calls. I didn’t answeronephone call, because I was in the bathtub.
“I’m fine,” I grumble, half-asleep.
“If you’re fine, then why haven’t you posted in two days?”
Ah. That’s the real reason for her call. She’s not worried aboutme.She’s worried about herbrand.
I haven’t posted to Instagram or her blog since Vila Praia de Âncora, since the night I kissed Mal on the beach. Guilt and anxiety braid themselves through my body. “I’m so, so sorry Vi. I got really busy.”
“Busy?” My sister screeches. “Doingwhat?”
“Um, well, this is a trek, so I’ve been walking a dozen miles every day.”
“You knew that going into this,” she snaps.
I want to argue, but I swallow the words. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.”
And I hate that I’m apologizing to her, especially over this. I’ve walked nearly a hundred miles with all my belongings strapped to my back; I’ve endured shin splints and back pain, and I’ve still kept going. I’ve learned how to care for my blisters and how to order coffee and how to live in the goddamn moment, no thanks to her. I’m learning how to be okay with not knowing, okay with discovering, okay with asking for what I want. Kind of. Almost.
And still, in the face of my sister’s displeasure, I apologize.
My need to please her, to care for her, eclipses everything else.
“I’ll make sure to get caught up on posts today.”
Vi huffs petulantly in the way only a younger sister can. “What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
