“Same goes to you, sister,” Gertrude says before tapping Eileen’s butt.
“Cassandra!” Susan walks in then, also giving me a tight hug. I find myself smiling at all their affection. I didn’t expect this kind of reaction from them, but I should’ve. They remind me so much of Ruth, even with all their quirks and differences. It makes me feel close to her to be here.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Susan says as she pulls away, and the moment she’s taken off her shoes, she’s pulling me by the arm toward a quiet corner of the living room. “I realized I hadn’t had the chance to talk to you about something important the last time I saw you.”
I hold my breath for whatever bomb she’s about to drop.
“Susan, don’t you dare!” Gertrude calls, but Susan trudges right on.
“Have you ever thought about becoming your own boss?”
“Jay-sus, Mary, and Joseph, how long is this going to last?” Gertrude mumbles behind me, making me grin.
“What do you have against business owners?” Susan spits back. They’re all so rude to each other, yet it’s clear it’s nothing but tough love. They’ve been friends for much longer than I’ve been alive. They would bicker all the time with Ruth, too, and while it made me uncomfortable as a kid, I can see the twinkle in their eyes as they give their quippy remarks now.
“I, uh…” Another set of knocks comes, and I jump to my feet. “I’ll get it!”
“We’ll talk about this later!” Susan shouts behind me. I hope we don’t.
“Hi,” I say as I open the door. “Oh, letme—”
My words die in my throat when I recognize the woman who used to be with the man that has lived in my mind for the past weeks. She looks just as shocked to see me, her extended fruit cake frozen midway to me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. It doesn’t compute, at first. The first thought that comes to mind is that she followed me.
“What areyoudoing here?”
“This is my mother’s place,” I say like it’s obvious when it probably isn’t. Keira and I both take after our father, and I’ve barely been here all summer.
She blinks. “I… Uh…”
“Elizabeth!” Susan shouts as she comes to hug her. “Cassie, this is my niece. I was just thinking how you two should meet! We need more young souls in this club.”
“We met, actually,” I say.
“Oh, wonderful! Come get a glass of wine.” Susan disappears into the living room, where the ladies are pouring the wine like there’s no tomorrow. Sounds like it’s going to be another fruitful crochet session.
Liz’s complexion is a nice shade of firetruck red. I would’ve expected anger from her, but she looks more uncomfortable than anything else. “I can go, if you want me to.”
She holds the homemade cake closer to her, her hair parted in two French braids.Zoe would love those,I find myself thinking. Her nails are painted a bright shade of pink, some of it scratched off. Standing there, waiting expectantly, she reminds me of a younger version of myself. One who attended school cookouts and bakingcontests with an entire pan of cookies my mom would have baked the day before, only to have no one take one. I so wished someone would’ve let me in, made a space for me in their friend group, even just waved at me.
“No,” I tell her. “It’s fine. Come in.”
“How many times will I have to tell you? I didn’t know they had pot in them!” Eileen wails as she tries putting her shoes on.Triesbeing the important word here. The women are all so drunk, they can barely walk. Add to that the fact that Eileen brought pot brownies with her, and we’ve got a real dangerous gang. Thank God Susan’s husband is here to pick them up and drive them back home.
“I will never believe you,” Susan slurs before giggling. “Oh, some McDonald’s would be good right now.”
“Yes,” Eileen says, holding thesa little too long.
“A universal feeling, isn’t it,” I mumble. Beside me, Liz snickers.
“Bye, ladies,” I say louder with a wave. Mom’s already in bed, thankfully pot-free. She didn’t eat any of the brownies and went to bed a half-hour ago, claiming to be too tired to go on. She looked it, too. I wonder if that’s another part of her illness she’s hidden from me.
“Will we see you in two weeks?” Susan asks.
In two weeks, I’ll be ready to leave, for real this time.
“Maybe,” I say. I would technically have the time—I don’t need to be back until September 1st, when I’m officially back to work—but I’d like to settle in before getting back to real life. Although I have a feeling I won’t want to leave Eli until the very last second. Our days are filled with stolen touches and conversations exchanged through glances while Zoe tells us about her day at school over dinner. When she goes to sleep, we fall into bed together and discover everything we missed during our years apart. It’s quickly become a new normal, which is lovely but mostly frightening. I don’t know how I’ll ever let it go.