In Harmony(72)

I stared at this woman. A real mom doing mom things. It was like seeing a ghost or a UFO. I’d heard they existed but had never seen it for myself.

“Thanks, Mom,” Angie said. “You’re the best.”

She made a hmmmph sound, then reached out to cup my chin. “Next time, if you think you’re going to have a rough night, call Angie first, okay? And then Angie will tell me. Won’t she?”

“Yes, she will,” Angie said.

Bonnie patted my cheek and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

I shook my head. “Your mom…”

“Yeah, she’s a keeper. She’s a therapist. Reading a situation and keeping it confidential is kind of her specialty.”

A therapist, I thought. Immediately followed by Isaac’s words: everything happens for a reason.

I took a shower in Angie’s bathroom, washing away last night under the warm water and flowery shower soap. Mouthwash rinsed away the taste of vomit and booze. The reflection in the mirror showed puffy, bloodshot eyes. I gave more silent thanks to Bonnie’s quick thinking by saying I was sick. There was no way I could’ve gone to school anyway.

When I came out of the bathroom, Angie gave me a long flowing skirt with green and red flowers on it, and an oversize green T-shirt that said, IRONY, the opposite of WRINKLY.

Angie sized me up “Sloppy, but it’ll do.”

We went downstairs, and I had a few bites of egg and bacon while sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter. The McKenzie’s house was as updated as mine, but on a smaller scale, and with all the warmth and comfort mine lacked.

Bonnie must be good at her job, I thought.

Twenty minutes later, my cracked phone buzzed a text. It was my mother.

I’m outside.

“I’ll bet she regrets coming all the way over here after you offered to drive me home,” I said, feeding Barkley a piece of my bacon. “Her suspiciousness wore off and now she’s just irritated she had to come and get me.”

Bonnie’s mom raised her eyebrows at me. “Was she the reason for your rough night?”

“No,” I said.

“Then I would go out there and apologize to her.” She smiled behind her cup of coffee. “You know? For the inconvenience?”

I had to laugh. It had only taken one phone conversation, and Angie’s mom had read the situation with mine perfectly.

I slid off the stool, and Angie and Bonnie walked me to the front door, Barkley in tow. Outside, my mother waited in her silver Mercedes. I rubbed the dog’s ears, and then hugged Bonnie, hoping to take a little bit of her comfort home with me.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You thank me by remembering what I said,” Bonnie said. “I’m here anytime to talk.”

Tears welled in my eyes. They spilled over as I hugged Angie.

“Us girls got to stick together, right?” she said, her voice quavering. “We’ll talk more later, okay? After you’ve had some rest.”

I nodded, exhausted down to my bones.

My mother laid on the horn, and I sighed. “That’s my cue.”

I walked down the driveway holding only my phone, Angie’s skirt swishing about my legs. Angie and Bonnie and their sweet dog remained at the front door. A picture postcard of warmth and friendship and home.

I waved back, before climbing into the passenger seat. I let my hair fall down the left side of my face, hoping my mom wouldn’t see how bloodshot and swollen my eyes were.

“Hey, Mom. Sorry about last night. We got carried away and now I’m not really feeling well.”

“I guess not. Your voice sounds terrible,” she said as she pulled away from the drive. “But I don’t appreciate this, Willow. It makes me look bad in front of your friend’s mother that I didn’t know where you were last night.”

“She understands. She’s a therapist,” I added. “And I like her. A lot.”

“A therapist.” Mom sniffed. “Maybe I should send you to her.”

“Maybe you should,” I muttered.

My mom sniffed again and glanced over at me. Her frown deepened and I braced myself for a question. The one I almost wanted to hear. I could feel the truth bubbling up again. I’d told it twice. I could tell it again to her. She just had to ask.

Mom: What’s wrong, honey?

Me: Mom, it was Xavier…

But she fumbled her lines. “What on earth are you wearing?”





Isaac



You’re the girl I want.

Wednesday afternoon, my confession resounded in my head again and again while I worked at the HCT. Willow may not have heard me say it, but I heard me say it. And there was no taking it back. The line could not be unsaid.

“Fuck,” I said, pushing a broom around the scuffed black floor of the stage.

I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, starting that day in Daisy’s Coffeehouse. Talking got me into this fucking mess. I’d been silent for more than ten years, and then Willow came along and I told her everything. Now I was stuck. Somehow, she’d gotten under my skin, into the marrow of my goddamn bones. Her happiness was becoming the air I breathed.

I didn’t want to stay.

I didn’t want to leave her.

Especially after what had happened to her.