“Then she up and left.”
“I walked home. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“I sure as hell wouldn’t leave my friend behind.”
Leaving in the thick of things–that doesn’t sound like Cassie. She loves the excitement, the voices that pick up momentum and collide.
Juliana rolls her eyes. “You do a lot of things that nobody else would.”
The car jerks to a halt. Both Juliana and I buck forward. The seatbelts catch and squeak.
Tension ripples off of Marcos. He doesn’t remove his eyes from the rearview mirror as he says, “I did it because Andreas was in over his head, and I wasn’t going to wait until someone called the cops.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” Nothing about Juliana wavers. Not her stance, not her tone, and definitely not her scowl. “Nobody was gonna call the cops.”
“That’s because the cops don’t care.” He balls his fist against the wheel. “You know that.”
Do they remember I’m still here?
“I got more important things to worry about,” Juliana shoots back. “Believe it or not, some of us forget when a jackass runs his mouth.”
Marcos hits the gas and the car rumbles forward. “Well, good for you. I don’t.”
A stormy silence settles over the car.
Thus, with all the happiness and good vibes that, say, a funnel cloud would bring, we pull up to Cassie’s house.
Her pale face presses against the window. In the next instant, she runs outside in bare feet. It’s a flash of the girl who would grab my hand as we sprinted over the sand on summer days, hair flying free behind her. My heart leaps at the manifestation of the mantra I told myself last night. She’s okay.
“Where are your shoes?” Juliana scolds as Cassie leaps into her arms. Then it’s my turn, Cass nearly crushing my face against her shoulder. I inhale the lavender and cinnamon, the steady scent that hasn’t been changed by hospital beds and ice cold water. The wind whistles over us, and I hold her tighter. Then she’s gone, out of my reach, tucking hair behind her ears only for it to loosen again in the wind.
When she approaches Marcos, they’re both subdued until Cass says, “Thank you, Marcos,” and squeezes him so tightly that he takes a surprised step backward. “Shit, it’s cold,” she says, releasing him. “Get inside, kids. My mom has leek-and-tofu soup just for you.”
Juliana catches my eye. What the heck?
Welcome to the Hopeswell house.
We settle around the kitchen table, Marcos and I on one side with Juliana and Cass facing us. I automatically reach for a bamboo napkin holder and roll it to Cassie. “How’s everything going?” I say. Juliana sniffs the air, grimacing like she’s about to choke. Incense burns thick in here, and with the bubbling and hissing of water boiling on the stove, it’s like inadvertently entering a witch’s lair.
Cass pushes the napkin holder back to me. “Tiring. It’s not easy wowing your doctor, resident, social worker, nurse practitioner, and nurse every day.”
“Whoa,” says Marcos under his breath. Her words, though, make me feel hopeful. If five medical professionals approved Cassie’s release, then she has to be improving.
“They said I’ll need to be home for the next week or so. Once they all agree that I seem stable enough, I can go back to school.” She smiles faintly. “I’m sure that my academic output is missed terribly.”
“Hell, yeah, it is,” says Juliana, missing the reference. Cassie’s eyes meet mine. Sarcasm without any despair. She seems steady. I relax a little more.
“Of course,” she continues, “Mom thinks burning a shit ton of incense will be just as helpful. I smell like the love child of frankincense and myrrh.”
I roll the napkin holder back to her. Juliana’s eyes track it. Just between us, Juliana.
“Why the incense?” Marcos shifts his weight and the chair creaks. Like Juliana, it’s evident that the smell’s getting to him, too.
I open my mouth to answer. Juliana beats me to it. “Her mom ran a pharmaceutical company and thinks all the drugs are bullshit.”
“It smells good.” I fight the burning in my throat from the overload of smoking spice. “Uh, soothing.”
Cassie rolls her eyes. “Shut up, Savs, you don’t need to lie to me. Never helped before, did it?”
She’s smiling; the bamboo circle’s already on its way back to me. So why do I let the napkin holder wobble and tip over without making a move to catch it and push it back?
When she turns to Juliana to ask what she’s missed in photography class, I’m left staring at that circle, decorative and just as useless as I feel.
A strong arm loops around my back and gives me a little squeeze. He noticed, too.
I expect him to pull away. I’m not used to being held by anyone besides Cassie, functioning as her anchor. Marcos stays put, however. His fingertips gently rub the place just below my ribs and send undulations of warmth rolling through my bloodstream.
Cassie’s eyes are ice-blue fire.
“When did this happen?” She pushes back her chair to circle around us like we’ve got something hidden on our persons.
Unfazed, Marcos keeps his arm in place. Hopefully he doesn’t feel me sweating from the way Juliana crosses her arms and glances between us. Of course she knows (heck, Richard Gregory, Sr., knows), but the way she’s scrutinizing me–well, it’s not exactly a look that says, Wow, so thrilled for you two!
Cassie realizes it the moment I do and whirls toward Juliana. “You didn’t tell me, either. What the heck, guys?”
“You’ve had a lot going on,” I say honestly. You haven’t told me everything, either.
She stands up tall enough to block the sunlight streaming in through the window. “This is major news!”
“It’s not like we’re engaged.”
Marcos snorts.
“What does Papa Gregory say to this union?” she persists.
Oh, just super awkward allusions to The Talk. Passively judgmental comments about Marcos’s math coursework. The usual.