Chapter 17 Lane #2
“I’m nearly done here,” she says without turning around.
I lay the dishes down next to her. “Here.”
She jumps so hard her hand smashes into the stack of plates, and I instinctively lunge to catch them before they fall.
“What the hell are you doing here, Lane?”
Her face is pale and drawn. I really fucked up.
“The meal tonight, I—”
“It’s almost midnight,” she says coolly, her voice quivering. “You’re too late.”
“Lois, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me back?”
She places a bowl down in the sink and whips the air between us with a dish towel.
“Are you kidding me? I asked whether we were still good this afternoon.”
“You did?”
I dig deep, sifting back through the day’s memories, but I don’t remember her ever asking me. She tosses the towel to the side and glares.
“You said ‘uh-huh,’ which is more than you’ve said to me over the past few days combined. I should’ve guessed it didn’t mean anything.”
Ouch. That hits hard.
Lois stalks out of the kitchen, huffing at her friends. “I’m really disappointed with you, girls.”
“He was worried, kitten.”
“Sure he was,” she snaps.
“He was white as a sheet! On the brink of a panic attack…”
“Bullshit!”
“If I hear one more curse word out of that pretty mouth of yours…”
I hear a chair scrape against the floor, a door creaking. I dash out of the kitchen to find Lois standing in the hallway, and by the time I let out a “shit,” she’s gone.
“Thanks for picking up,” I call out to the twins. “I owe you one!”
“This is an Alzheimer’s-free zone, sweetie. We’ll remember that!”
I race out onto the sidewalk, scanning the street for a sign of Lois, catching a glimpse of her as she turns a corner. I start to sprint.
“Wait!”
Her shoulders tense up, but she doesn’t slow down.
Cursing, I pick up the pace, finally outrunning her and blocking her way, forcing her to stop.
She sighs, trying to skirt around me, but there’s no way I’m about to let that happen.
Finally, she gives up, folding her arms across her chest, her eyes bright with anger.
“I’m sorry,” I try again.
“It’s nothing, okay? I’m not mad at you. Everything’s fine. I just want to go home.”
“Liar.”
“Go back to the party, Lane. I’m a big girl, you know—you don’t need to tiptoe around me. Anyway, it’s not like we were ever really friends.”
She’s taken a swipe at me, and it stings.
“Of course we’re—”
“Lane!” she explodes. “I’m telling you, we’re good!”
Before I know it, she’s bursting into tears and I’m standing there reeling. I hold out a hand to her.
“Please, don’t cry because of me…”
She wipes her cheeks. “I’m just disappointed, that’s all. I had a shitty week, and I was looking forward to a good evening. You forgot.” She shrugs. “Shit happens.”
I want to tell her the whole story, from start to finish. Just fucking say it! My brother died in a motorbike accident. It’s not some deep dark secret. But no matter how I try, the words won’t come.
“I’ve just been kind of out of it lately.”
“I noticed.”
“It’s just that—”
“You don’t owe me anything, okay? I get that, Lane. I’m all up in your space, spreading my shit all over your apartment. I promise things won’t be weird between us.”
“You don’t take up that much space,” I mutter, twisting the seam of my jacket.
“There should be some dorms freeing up in January. It’s been months now since we first made our deal. You never said I could just crash at your place forever.”
I got used to it, though. Even started to kind of like it, maybe.
“I’m heading home,” she continues. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She slips around me, but I grapple for her hand, my fingers sliding between hers. She looks down, lips parted.
“Happy birthday,” I say.
Her eyes widen. I feel her fingers tightening around mine.
“How did you know?”
“Hope told me,” I lie.
I don’t want her to know it was Kirk. I don’t ever want to hear his name.
“I mean, I…” She bites the inside of her cheek. “Thank you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s no big deal.”
“Of course it’s a big deal!”
I’m bummed she didn’t tell me—I’d have picked her up a little something to celebrate. Suddenly, my gaze comes to rest on a bush behind her.
“Fair Lady Heartbreak, will thou accept this blossom?”
I pluck a flower off and hold it out to her with a dramatic bow.
“Since it’s my birthday, how about you drop the nickname for the night?” She brings the petals to her nose, and pulls a face.
“What’s the problem?”
“It smells like piss.” She tosses the flower on the ground with a snicker.
“So ungrateful.” I mime outrage. “At least it got a smile out of you, though.” I tug at her hand. “Come on! Let’s go.”
“Where? I don’t need a ride home, you know. I was planning on calling a cab.”
I gasp. “And there I was, thinking you were a loyal customer.”
“Go have fun, Lane.”
“I’m not interested in fun.” I frown, and I can’t help tracing a small line across her palm. “We both had a shitty night. We need alcohol. I can sneak you a drink.”
“You want a drink? With me?”
“Yes, ma’am. Though we might need more than one drink.”
“And who’ll drive us back?”
“Don’t be such a buzzkill.”
She sways from foot to foot, unsure. After what seems like an age, she nods.
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
I drop her hand and offer her my arm. We hit the street, our shoulders grazing as we drift along to the first bar we see.
We’re giggling like two kids over the dumbest stuff.
This evening is nothing like I planned. Since Mike died, November 12 usually always goes the exact same way: a black pit of despair and a healthy measure of heavy liquor, followed by me breaking shit and trying to rein in my anger.
But tonight, I’m feeling lighthearted, and it’s nothing to do with the whiskey or the noise, or anything around us.
The light blanking out my darkest memories is Lois and her nineteenth birthday.
Lois and her goofy laugh. Lois and the knowing glances we exchange as we watch a bunch of guys shoot their shots and get shut down.
“I totally disagree with what you said earlier,” I say, sliding my empty glass across the table.
“Care to narrow it down? We never agree on anything.”
“That’s because you’re always wrong.”
“It’s my birthday and I’ll cry if I want to!”
“Sorry, it’s past one in the morning, Heartbreak. The birthday excuse just expired.”
She rolls her eyes. “So hit me with it. What do you disagree with this time?”
“We are friends.”
She parts her lips, my words catching her off guard.
“You’re drunk.” She laughs, sinking back deeper into the booth.
If only… I’m not drunk, though, not in the slightest. In fact, I’ve never felt so clearheaded in my life.