How to Steal Your Best Friend's Fiancé - London Casey Page 0,18
kind of day. Everything went smooth, but I felt like hell had washed over me.
I poured myself a glass of wine and celebrated another day of survival as I stood at my favorite window in the apartment and watched the day wind down, turning into night.
With just one last flicker of daylight left, I smiled and decided to go to my favorite spot.
I wore my favorite old hoodie and packed a bag with my phone and a bottle of wine.
The essentials.
As I walked down the hallway to the stairs, I thought of an idea.
I stopped at the next floor up and went to the second door on the right.
I gave a quick knock and waited.
There was no choice but to wait.
Miss Crabapple moved slow, and that was perfectly okay.
When she opened the door, she smiled big at me.
Her body frame was left skeletal after all the cancer treatments. Sadly, even after all the treatments, she was told she didn’t have much time to live.
I first met her while she was sitting on the roof.
I apologized for interrupting her alone time and she made me sit with her.
Since then, we grew closer and anytime I was headed up to the roof, I made sure to check with her.
It was scary to think that she lived alone and still ventured up to the roof, but to her, she was going to live until there was no more living to be had. And that was something I just had to respect.
“Ready?” I asked.
“I’m very busy tonight,” she said. “I have a man coming over.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. We’re going to break my bed.”
“Miss Crabapple…”
“I’m just playing,” she said. She reached for me and squeezed my arm with a weak grip. “There’s no men in my life. Not because of the cancer. I just don’t like men.”
I smiled. “You’ve mentioned that before.”
“Give me one moment,” she said. “Then I’ll join you up on the roof.”
“I can wait all night for you,” I said.
“Well, when you’re like me, each second counts, so I have to keep my boney ass hustling here,” she said.
She scurried around the apartment to make sure all her appliances were off.
I noticed little things like that about her.
She wasn’t afraid to die from the cancer. But the idea of being hurt or dying from a fire or accident did scare her.
She grabbed a jacket and draped it over her arm.
“How are you tonight?” she asked me as she shut her door.
“Perfect now,” I said.
“If I’m making your night perfect, then you have some big issues in your life,” she said.
I looked at her and smiled. “I love your honesty.”
“What do I have to lose? I’m going to die soon no matter what I do. And if you want to be pissed at me when I go, that’s on you. I’ll be in the clouds doing something much better than this.”
“Is that why you like the roof?” I asked. “Gets you closer to heaven?”
“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe I like to get high and look at the stars.”
I laughed.
She elbowed me and winked.
It was nice to forget everything for a few minutes, you know?
I helped Miss Crabapple into one of the lawn chairs on the roof.
I noticed we weren’t alone.
“Buzzy,” I said.
Buzzy lifted her head and wrinkled her nose against her glasses. “Oh, hey.”
Buzzy was thirteen and lived on the top floor with her mother. Her real name was Beth, but she got the nickname Buzzy because of her Halloween costume when she was four.
Hint - she dressed up as a bumble bee.
“What are you working on tonight?” I asked.
“Stupid math,” she said.
“Stupid math?” I asked. “Never heard of it. I’ve heard of math. But not stupid math.”
Buzzy groaned. “That’s such an adult joke to make.”
“I know,” I said. “Sorry.”
Miss Crabapple let out a long sigh as she put her hands to the arms of the chair.
“Pull one up,” she said to me. “Let the kid finish her schoolwork. Can’t get far in life these days without being smart. Not like it was in my day.”
“You’re not that old,” I said.
“I feel two hundred years old.”
“You don’t look a day over twenty,” I said.
“You lying bitch,” Miss Crabapple whispered.
I took the wine bottle out of my bag. “Drink?”
“Of course,” she said.
Miss Crabapple took the cork out of the bottle and helped herself to a drink.
Next to me I heard Buzzy groan.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Math… letters and numbers don’t belong together.”