"Surprise!" It's Trina, in a red sundress with a big floppy hat on her head and sunglasses covering her eyes. She gives me a hug. My mind's racing so fast I can't even hug her back. I'm too busy trying to figure out what to do. She can't come inside. Shit.
"It's so good to see you!" she says, stepping back to look at me. "Did you lose weight? You look thinner."
"Why are you here? We're supposed to meet at the coffee shop."
"I got here early so I thought I'd just come over." She takes off her sunglasses and drops them in her purse. "It's been forever since I've been to this house. I almost forget how to find this place. Let's go inside. I really have to use the bathroom."
"Why don't we just go to the coffee shop? You can use the bathroom there."
"I can't wait that long. I really need to go." She pushes past me and runs in the house, dropping her purse and hat on the couch, then scurrying off to the bathroom.
I sigh and shut the door. When she's done in the bathroom, I'll have to steer her out the door before she notices anything.
Moments later, Trina comes down the hall and goes straight to the kitchen. Trina is like Nash in that she just makes herself comfortable wherever she goes.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"I need a glass of water."
I remain at the door. "We'll get water at the restaurant. Let's go."
"I need it now. I feel a migraine coming on and I need to take a pill."
"If you're not feeling well, then maybe we should reschedule."
"I already drove all the way down here. I'll be fine." She opens a cupboard and takes out a glass. She pauses after closing the cabinet, then opens it back up. She takes out a green plastic cup with a dinosaur on it. She holds it up. "Isn't this Ben's cup?"
"Yeah. I thought it was cute so I use it sometimes."
She looks at me a moment, then puts the cup away and fills her glass with water.
"Ready?" I ask after she takes her pill.
"It's too early for lunch. Let's sit and talk a minute." She walks over to the living room.
I brace myself, knowing she's going to overreact. "Trina, let's just go. I have to—"
"What is all this?" she asks, her eyes slowly scanning the room.
"It's the living room. You've seen it before. Now let's go."
"Callie." I see her throat move as she swallows. "Why is their stuff still here?"
"I just haven't gotten around to putting it away." I sound calm, but inside my heart is pounding. "Now come on. Let's go." I hold open the door, but she's frozen in place.
"You told me you packed everything up." She turns to me. "You lied. Why would you lie about that?"
"It wasn't a lie. I packed up some things, just not all." I shut the door, knowing we won't be leaving any time soon.
She goes over to my mom's knitting basket and holds up the scarf. "This is your mom's. And it's still sitting here."
"I thought maybe I'd finish it."
"That's a lie, Callie, and you know it."
My hands form tight fists as I work to suppress my anger at seeing her holding my mom's scarf. It hasn't been touched since that day, and now Trina is touching it.
"Put it down," I say, my jaw clenched.
She sets the scarf back in the basket and walks over to the plastic bin in the corner. "Oh my God." She covers her mouth with her hand. "Callie, why are these still here?"
"I...I was going to donate them." I take a breath. "I just haven't had time."
She points to the Patterson book. "That's Greg's book, isn't it? He always read Patterson."
I don't answer her.
She runs down the hall to the bedrooms. It's too late to stop her so I let her go. "Oh my God," I hear her saying, over and over again.
She runs back, stopping right in front of me, out of breath, a pained look on her face. "Callie, why?"
"Trina, relax. It's not a big deal. I just haven't had time to redecorate."
"Redecorate? Callie, you haven't touched this house since the day they left. It looks exactly the same. Ben's room looks like he was just in there playing. It's like he never even—" She covers her mouth with her hands and takes some deep breaths.
"You're overreacting. Let's just go to lunch and I'll explain everything."
"There's nothing to explain." She comes up to me and takes my hands. "You need help, Callie. This isn't normal." She glances around the room. "This is so not normal."
"You don't understand. You can't make judgments when you don't understand."
She squeezes my hands. "Then tell me why you did this. Tell me why you're living in a house that looks like your family still lives here. Make me understand."
My eyes go to the floor. "I can't. I don't really know why." I lift my eyes back to hers. "And as my friend, you should accept that and stop judging me."
"Callie, you can't live this way. You'll never move on if you spend every day surrounded by their things."
"There's nothing wrong with keeping things that remind me of them. Not everyone throws everything away."
"Yes, but you haven't touched this room since they died. Your mom's knitting? Greg's book? That's creepy. And Ben's toys? How can you stand being around this day after day?"