Chapter 3
Brie
I followed Will through Northwind Place’s hallways, past watercolor seascapes and potted ferns. The facility seemed more like a high-end hotel than a place where people’s memories slowly disappeared.
Will’s hands had been shaking when he reached for his car keys. It was only a brief tremor, but enough for me to notice. Between the jet lag, moving his mother into her new place, and everything waiting for him in the Bahamas, he looked like he might fall over.
“Let me drive,” I’d said.
The answer he’d normally give was, “I’m not that tired.”
But when he handed the keys over without argument, I knew what he actually needed was a friend.
“She was upset this morning when I left. Didn’t understand why I was leaving her here.” He stopped at a door with a wooden plaque with his mother’s name, his hand hovering over the knob. “Just… be prepared.”
I’d known Diane since I was seven years old. She’d welcomed my family when everyone else treated us like we carried some contagious shame. She’d taught me to make Christmas cookies, let me sleep over dozens of times, and hugged me after every painful prison visit.
Will had been telling me about her quick decline, but this would be the first time I’d seen her since it started. At least, since anyone other than her husband knew it had started.
“Okay,” I managed.
Will knocked lightly and pushed the door open. “Mum? It’s me.”
A short hallway led to the living room, where a large window provided a view of the surrounding trees. It was mid-October and still light at five o’clock, but the sun was hanging low between leafless branches and pine needles.
Diane looked up from her armchair, reading glasses perched on her nose, and her whole face lit up. “Will! You’re back already?” She set her book aside and stood, arms wide. “And Brie! What a lovely surprise!”
I stepped in for the hug, a lifetime of memories filling my heart. “Hi, Mrs. Reaney. Your new place looks beautiful.”
“Diane, dear. You’re not twelve anymore,” she said, giving my cheek an affectionate pat. “Though if I made a batch of lemon squares, I bet you’d still be sneaking them when I’m not looking.”
“Probably,” I admitted with a grin.
The apartment was homey, with new carpet, plush furniture, and photographs lining the windowsill. I spotted a photo of Will and me at fourteen, holding up a circuit board we’d built together, both grinning like idiots.
“We can’t stay too long.” Will moved around the living area, checking a list on his phone. “I still need to finish some paperwork with the director.”
“No rushing allowed.” Diane waved his comment aside. “Sit down, both of you. Tell me about work, darling. How does it feel to be home again?”
Will’s shoulders fell, but he inclined his head toward the couch by her chair. We sat, and I tucked my legs under myself.
“It was weird,” he said, his voice gentler than usual. “Brie let someone steal my desk while I was gone.”
“It was temporary,” I protested, giving his arm a swat. “I told you that!”
“You two.” Diane laughed. “It’s wonderful to see you together again.”
“Honestly, it’s good to be back.” He nudged me with an elbow, but not hard. “We’re still working on the big project I told you about.”
He continued talking, giving her vague details about the client “down south” who needed his expertise. He used shorter sentences than usual, provided simpler explanations, and showed more patience. This was what the last year had taught him.
Diane’s gaze shifted between us, warm and loving. Like the last time I’d seen her, before her husband, George, passed away. Not a sign of what Will had described.
“The building’s like an all-inclusive resort,” I said. “The dining room looked nice. Are you going to eat there tonight?”
Will glanced at me. It was quick, but it came with a warning. About what?
“I might, but…” She smoothed her hands over her pants. She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice. “It’s all old people here. I mean, much older than me.”
“Mum, Auntie Evie picked this place out.” Will’s smile tightened at the corners. “She thought you’d like not having to cook anymore.”
“She did?” Diane blinked, and her finger found her wedding ring, tracing slow circles around the band.
“She did. And she’s going to visit tomorrow.”
Her gaze drifted out the window, and her brow worked up and down, as though she were trying to grasp something. “I haven’t seen her in… it’s been so long.”
“It’s been—” I started, but Will’s hand landed on my thigh. Three quick taps.
The Reynolds emergency signal.
Stop, he was saying silently.
This was what he’d warned me about. She was growing confused.
“It doesn’t matter how long it’s been,” Will said. “She’s excited to see you.”
“They have a photography club here,” Diane said, her face brightening. She reached for one of the framed photos and ran a hand over the image. “Photography is like memory. We capture moments, preserve them, but they’re never quite the same as experiencing them firsthand.”
Will stood, grabbing a glass from the small table next to his mother. “Would you like some water, Mum? Or I could make tea?”
“Water is fine, dear.” She put the photo back and watched Will fill her glass from a pitcher in the fridge. “You were always good at taking care of people.”
“He is good at it.” I smiled at him. The water was obviously a diversion—a smooth one.
“But you work too hard.” She was looking at Will, but something in her eyes had gone somewhere else. “Always worrying about everyone but yourself.”
Will turned slowly with the glass of water. “Mum—”
“Will’s exactly like you in that respect, George.” She reached out and accepted the drink from him. “I worry about him. He’s always taking care of everyone else. When was the last time he let someone take care of him? The girl he was seeing… what was her name?”
My throat went tight watching Will’s face. He didn’t correct her. Didn’t pull away.
“He hasn’t dated anyone in a while,” Will said quietly.
Because he’d been too busy looking after his mother. Although it had been a while since his last girlfriend. Maybe a year before he moved?
“At least he has Brie.” Diane smiled, but it was distant, as if she were remembering something from long ago. Apparently, friends and strangers weren’t the only ones who didn’t understand our friendship. “Remember how inseparable they were? They were always building things in your workshop.”
“They’re still a good team.” Will sat next to me on the couch, giving me a tight-lipped smile that said, ‘Warned you.’
“As they should be.” She laughed softly at Will—seeing her husband—and it slowly broke my heart in two. But then she chuckled. “Do you remember when I practically walked in on them that morning when they were still in university? They said they’d fallen asleep working, but we knew better.”
Oh shit. I suddenly didn’t know where to look. She was talking about something I hadn’t said out loud in ten years.
Memories of that one morning, so long ago, flooded back. Will and I had crossed a line and almost destroyed our friendship. Visions of sitting at breakfast with his family flipped through my brain. They’d served me pancakes while I was trying not to run.
They knew. They’d never given any indication they knew.
“Mum.” Will’s voice was gentle but firm. “It’s Will. I’m Will, not Dad.”
“And you.” Diane’s kind eyes turned to me. “You raised such a beautiful woman.”
What was I supposed to say? “Thanks?”
“I told you.” She scrunched her nose and pointed at me, a conspiratorial smile on her face. “Do you remember? After the first day they met, I told you our kids were perfect for each other.”
She thought I was my mother.
My stomach churned. I shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t be here.
Should have left the memories of Diane neatly tucked away where they were.
I glanced at Will. All I wanted to do was wrap my arms around him and tell him this would be all right, but we’d both know it was a lie.
And how would Diane take it? Would she remember who we really were, or would she wonder why Evelyn Reynolds was hugging George Reaney?
All I could come up with was: “They’re the best of friends, Diane. ”
“Tea?” said Will, already standing and making his way to the kitchenette.
“I just had some, thank you, dear,” said Diane.
“No, Mum, you just had water.”
Diane blinked a few times, looking at the glass next to her, as though trying to remember it. She looked at Will—really looked at him—and confusion washed across her face. “Oh, you’re right. Tea would be lovely.”
“Brie? Would you like any?” He pulled an electric kettle from under the counter and began filling it from the tap.
My throat closed up, so I shook my head. No matter how many times Will had told me about this, or how many times Diane had crashed our video calls to say hello, I hadn’t been prepared for this.
For any of it.
For watching Diane float in and out of the present moment, or for thinking about the one time I’d slept with my best friend.
Two massive shifts. Neither of them for the better.
But only one of them could be fixed by wadding it up and stuffing it into a mental locker, then throwing away the key.
Diane stood and joined Will. She patted his back and pulled a tea ball out of a drawer. “Are you and Brie staying for dinner?”
“No, Mum.” He gave her a quick peck on the top of her head. “I have to pack for that big job I was telling you about.”
“When are you leaving?”
He told her about his travel plans again. He was patient and gentle, and she gradually grew as happy as she had been when we first arrived. We stayed a while longer until Diane yawned and Will checked his watch. “We should go finish the paperwork, Mum. But I’ll be back tomorrow.”
She hugged him, then turned to me. Her embrace was warm, familiar. “It was lovely to see you, sweetheart. Come visit again soon.”
“I will.”
The walk through the facility was quiet. Will’s shoulders had that set that meant he was processing. I didn’t push.
Before going into the director’s office, he finally spoke. “I’m sorry. About what she said.”
“You can’t possibly be apologizing.”
He let out a quick breath, shaking his head at the floor. “Every time it happens—”
I threw my arms around his neck. Whether it was to comfort him or to beg him to comfort me, it didn’t matter. Because he wrapped me up and held on tight. The pain in my chest loosened a little, and I sniffled, unable to stop a few tears from falling. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
“Don’t do that.”
“I should have—”
“This is all I need, Bug.” He squeezed me harder, his voice cracking. “Right here.”