“Let’s get this over with,” Tiffany interrupted.
Nora wanted to talk, to ask Tiffany why she had brought up JJ after all this time. It had been years since Tiffany had said his name, and wasn’t that something? But they didn’t have time. It would have to wait. “Okay,” Nora said, shelving her questions for later. “I’ve been thinking about it. Two thousand isn’t nearly enough. It’s not going to get you very far and—”
“It’s fine.” The words were crisp, final.
“But—”
“Come on.” Tiffany was already walking away, the glances of cafe patrons trailing in her wake.
Nora gathered her bag and her untouched bottle of Perrier and followed.
Tiffany had stopped just outside and was rooting around in her purse as if looking for a pack of smokes. She had officially kicked the habit a couple years ago, but it didn’t stop her from buying the occasional pack and stress smoking. “Some people eat their feelings,” she once told Nora. “I smoke mine.” But Tiffany must have run out because she came up empty-handed and scowling.
“I’m out,” she said. “Why don’t you make the withdrawal? I’m going to hit up the corner store. Meet you there in ten.”
“I thought we were going to do this together.”
“We don’t have to. It’s a joint account, but we can make deposits and withdrawals independently.” Tiffany buzzed with irritation, with a sense of urgency that Nora didn’t understand.
“I know, but . . .”
“We’re in a hurry, right?”
For some reason, Nora’s stomach lurched. Her palms were clammy, her heartbeat weak and fluttering in her chest like a moth. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. “What happened?” she whispered.
“Nothing happened.”
“Are you sure?” Nora reached out to Tiffany but let her hand drop before she could make contact. Tiffany had never been much for physical contact.
“Just get the money, okay? I’ll see you soon.”
“Fine.” Nora agreed because she didn’t know what else to do. She would wait until they met up at the corner store to pepper Tiffany with questions, to insist that her friend share why she looked so haunted. But when Nora turned away, Tiffany stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
The embrace was fierce and awkward, and Tiffany held her just a heartbeat too long. “Everlee is fine, right?”
“Yes, she’s with my sister,” Nora said reassuringly, though she had texted Tiffany no less than three times over the course of the long night to tell her so.
“Thank you.” Tiffany’s words were muffled and faint. “For everything.” And then, before Nora could say anything more, Tiffany spun on her heel and took off down the sidewalk.
Nora wavered for a moment, torn between the desire to follow Tiffany and the necessity of their errand. In the end, she decided to do what they had come to do. A few minutes wouldn’t change anything.
The door to the bank was ten feet tall and solid glass, but it swiveled open at the lightest touch. Nora tensed as the air-conditioning washed over her sun-warmed skin. She stood for a moment in the foyer, taking in the marble floors and perfectly appointed black walnut counters where attractive tellers in sharp suits waited to assist customers. Most were busy helping other people, but one woman caught Nora’s eye and smiled encouragingly.
“Hello,” Nora said, striding forward with more confidence than she felt. “I’d like to make a withdrawal.”
As the teller counted out the bills, Nora couldn’t help feeling like she was doing something wrong. But that wasn’t true at all. She and Tiffany had opened the joint bank account all those years ago for one reason and one reason only: Everlee. This was where they squirreled away all that they could spare: the change they collected in a plastic ice-cream bucket (it always amounted to much more than they guessed it would), every paltry Christmas bonus, and what little they managed to save from their paychecks. Tiffany was unemployed almost as much as she was able to hold down a job, and Nora suspected there was probably some drug money hidden in their modest bank account, too. Nothing terribly serious. Usually prescription pills for ten bucks a pop that Tiff peddled to harried moms at the park. And that was Tiffany Barnes in a nutshell: trying to be a good mother but unloading Vicodin while her daughter squealed in the baby swing. Then saving that very money for Everlee’s future. Or a portion of it, anyway.
Nora pretended not to know. And what did that make her? An enabler. But more than that, too, and her mouth went dry at the thought of just how much guilt rested on her shoulders.
We tried, she told herself. We tried so hard.
At least they had the account.
Somehow, it had all added up. They had saved just over $2,000, and though Nora knew that amount was peanuts, she was proud of what they had done. She dreamed about using it someday for Everlee’s college tuition. Or to help her put a down payment on a home. God forbid they ever needed to tap it for emergency reasons or were tempted to withdraw just to help make ends meet. That’s exactly why they had set up the account in downtown Rochester instead of the little hamlet fifteen miles out of the city where they found the farmhouse to rent. Because it was harder to access; it required intentionality. And they had refused to link any cards to the account. Deposits and withdrawals all had to be made in paper and in person. Until today, there had never been a withdrawal.
Today marked an emergency altogether different than the relatively benign ones they had imagined all those years ago. A fender bender. A busted water pipe. A fall. It was downright laughable the things they had once considered disastrous.
Nora tucked the wad of cash deep in the recesses of her messenger bag. It was smaller than she imagined it would be, a slim stack of hundred dollar bills that seemed too spare to offer the sort of new beginning they dreamed of. But it weighed heavy against her shoulder as she left the bank and hurried back through the plaza, down the sidewalk, and across the street.
Nora didn’t realize she was rushing until her heel caught in a crack and almost sent her sprawling. But she didn’t stop. There was a sense of urgency growing around the edges of her personal horizon, a storm cloud that swelled and billowed with each step she took. Nora ignored the pang in her ankle and picked up the pace, heels stabbing the pavement and sending a burst of pain through her shins with each quick step. She didn’t pause until she stood in front of the little mom-and-pop corner shop, a store where she and Tiffany had once bought packs of gum, a candy bar for Everlee, and bottles of water on hot summer days.
The sidewalk was nearly empty. An elderly couple shuffled slowly toward Nora, smiling as if the world was filled with a beauty she couldn’t see. A woman on a bike sped by. But Tiffany was nowhere to be seen.