he’d never talked about marriage or us being together forever.
“Here.” She tossed me the white. “Add some polka dots or something.”
“Thanks.” I dutifully added dots while she cranked the radio. She didn’t press me for answers. I was thankful. After a few minutes, I turned down the music. “Hey, Brin, can I ask you something?”
She tensed up beside me. “What?” Her voice was clipped and terse.
I hesitated, not wanting to bring up her dad’s passing. “How’s your mom?”
She didn’t say anything at first, and I didn’t take offense. If she didn’t answer I wouldn’t ask again. I always gave her a chance, because sometimes the bad stuff that we keep hidden will rise to the surface if someone shows they care.
Brin sighed. “The same. It was bad the other night.” Then her voice dropped to a whisper. “It was their anniversary.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. What do you say to someone who lost both her parents all in the same year? It was two years ago. Her dad died from an accident on the job, and her mom never recovered. Though they lived in the same house, her mom was a ghost, flitting in and out of her life, sometimes angry, other times depressed. Brin cooked, cleaned, and took care of both of them.
“I can’t wait to fly.” Her voice was raspy with flecks of steely resignation. “Away from here. Land someplace completely new where people don’t look at with me pity, where no one knows my mom is the town drunk. I’ll plaster a smile on my face and no one will know my past. And I’ll keep it like that.”
I wiped a silent tear from my eye before she could see it. I held back the sniffle building in my nose and stifled the ache in my chest over her grief. I could’ve told her that true friends wanted to know everything about you: the good, the bad and the ugly. If she met a guy and fell in the forever-kind-of-love, he’d need to know about this part of her life.
Brin reached out and squeezed my hand. I smiled.
We leaned against my bed with our limbs splayed out so our nails could dry. We were content to be alone with our thoughts and look back on our life reflected on the great wall of Haley.
The front door slammed and a commotion went on downstairs. Brin and I smiled at each other.
“Ready?” I asked.
Brin grabbed for my wig. “Take that ridiculous thing off.” Then we jumped into action. She scooped the polish into her bag, leaving room on the floor. We braced ourselves for the whirlwind about to enter.
My bedroom door slammed open, and Kama bounced in. Her eyes were bright and her blonde curly hair framed her face. She swayed her hips while turning in a circle. She swung her arm in the air like a lasso. “Woo hoo. Woo hoo. Time to party, sistahs!”
I flashed her a smile, but it was weak.
“Whoa!” Kama threw up her hands, palms out. “Thank God I arrived. Or you two would be digging your own graves.”
Kama’s always been the dramatic one. All those play programs on my wall? Brin and I’d watched her steal the show of every drama production. Her life was set and the path was clear. She was going to be a musical theater major and head to New York. At some point in the future, I’d be seeing her on Broadway, of that, I was sure.
“Seriously. Totally lame in here.” She held out her hand and helped Brin stand. “Let’s get outta here before I fall asleep from boredom.”
I put up a meager defense. “Hey, it’s only five in the afternoon. The party won’t be rolling until at least eight.”
“Party?” She blew air through her lips. “We’ll have time for that later.” She pulled me up too. “Tonight…we’re going on a journey.”
Brin and I rolled our eyes.
Kama swiped her arm across the front of her body like she was a movie producer trying to show us the big picture. “We’re going back…in time.”
I groaned. Brin started to get into the whole adventure thing. In fact, she squealed. Their enthusiasm was catching and my doom and gloom mood lifted. In a few seconds, we were all jumping up and down, squeeing like schoolgirls. I had no idea what she meant by going back in time but it sounded perfect for this night.
“Thank God, you arrived.” Brin winked at me. “Because I thought Haley here lost