Page 91 of The Two of Us

A sickening wave of bile burns at my throat as I think of Alima. I’m only a finger tap away from the woman who treated me like her own daughter when I was a kid. The woman whose life I’ve tragically altered forever.

Does she somehow know I’m with Ambrose right now? I’ve heard stories about a mother’s intuition. Mothers who know when there’s something wrong with their children. Mothers who know when you’re lying. Mothers who know when their kids have sex for the first time. Mothers who just know.

My breathing quickens at the idea that Alima knows I’m in bed with her son, and I quickly ignore the call, hoping it severs her omniscient connection to him.

I creep around the edge of the bed, moving like a burglar in the night as I snag my discarded clothes. I dress in record time and as I’m backing out of Ambrose’s room, I cast one last glance at him. My body and my heart tell me to get back in the bed. Back into the place I feel whole. But the image of Alima kicking and screaming forces me to close the door behind me without a word.

And the quiet wraps its familiar arms around me.

I’m lost in my thoughts when I walk through the front door, which is why I don’t absorb Mrs. Kline’s words when she says I have a visitor waiting upstairs before letting herself out.

I toss my keys on my dresser and scream when a guttural voice says, “Give me all your money!”

I swat the light switch, illuminating the person sitting on my bed. Tally’s bent at the waist, laughing so hard her face is beet red. “Oh, shit. You should have seen your face.” A tear streams down her face before she regains her composure. “Wait… you were almost robbed. Shit, I forgot. Okay, bad joke,” she says, her voice apologetic.

“Tally, what the hell are you doing here?”

She leans back on my pillows as if it’s completely normal that she’s in my bedroom. In my childhood home. In Maine. “I missed my best friend.”

“How did you even know where I lived?”

She weaves her hands together, a mischievous smile tugging at her mouth and the gesture reminds me of Cat. “I called your dad’s nurse, Laura. You left her number on a sticky note on your fridge. I told her who I was and she was very accommodating when I said I wanted to surprise my best friend in the entire world.”

I cross my arms. “When I gave you a spare key to water my plants and feed Cheddar, I didn’t think you’d resort to snooping.”

She snorts. “Do you even know me?”

“Wait… who’s watching Cheddar?”

Tally’s smile is strained.

“Tally, I swear, if Jeremy force-feeds my cat asparagus, I’ll kill him.”

She’s laughing again.

It just doesn’t make any sense. Tally hates flying. She once told me she’d rather sit through a root canal than be on an airplane, which is how I know her visit isn’t as casual as she’s making it out to be. I narrow my eyes when I ask, “Why are you really here?”

All pretenses slide off her face and empathy fills its place. “You’ve been gone a while, babe. I figured you could use a friend.”

Understanding hits me like a ton of bricks. She thinks I need a friend because she knows my dad doesn’t have much time left. There’s only so much time someone has in hospice. Saving me from talking about him, Tally lets out a dramatic yawn. “Look, I’m beat. The lady next to me on the flight kept me awake with her incessant gum smacking. Can we crash and you can yell at me some more tomorrow?”

I nod slightly before escaping to the bathroom to get ready for bed. When I return, Tally’s already asleep, looking more comfortable in my house than I do. I climb in next to her and close my eyes.

As I pray for the sleep I know won’t come, I can’t help but think about the warm body across the street I still wish I could lie next to.

***

I’m not jumping over the moon at Tally showing up unannounced while I’m facing an existential crisis, but I can admit that her carefree attitude is a welcome reprieve. I didn’t realize how much I missed my best friend. She talks my ear off enough to distract me from the man across the street and the fact that I haven’t heard from him since last night after I fled his room like a booty call.

I come downstairs to Tally making blueberry pancakes from scratch and I laugh knowing she isn’t getting her fix at home thanks to Jeremy.

I sit at the table, folding my knees up to my chest. “Are you sure you’re here for me, or did you just need to go somewhere far enough to eat whatever you want?”

“I’ll have you know that I finally stood up to Jeremy,” she says, sticking out her tongue.

“Really? Spill.”

She shrugs, flipping a pancake. “I told him I was my own person with my own food preferences and I don’t want to hide them anymore.”

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