We break into a fit of giggles. In a frenzy of untangling legs, thrown covers, and a bouncing mattress, he sets back on his haunches to peer down at me.
“Right here,” he says, smacking a loud kiss on one cheek followed by the other. “And here.”
He rolls off the bed a beat later. The hardwood groans beneath his bouncing feet as he prances into the hall.
“Pack a bag, runaway. I’m gonna make your breakfast.”
“I toldyou I don’t cuddle and tell,” I singsong as Kristen and I stroll out the lobby doors.
“Yeah, but you also don’t bang and shut up, so spill.”
My head falls back on a laugh. “Please never say ‘bang’ again!” I shout a little too loudly as a woman pulling along a toddler in each hand squeezes past us, staring daggers at me. Kristen and I grimace in unison.
When the scarred youth are out of earshot, my friend nudges my shoulder. “Back to the banging.”
I sigh. “I promise there was no banging.”
We tip back our coffees at the same time. Her expression sobers as she swallows.
“Real talk, though,” she says, “I’m only half-serious about the banging.” Her finger runs circles around the lid of her cup. “I know you’ll hate hearing this, but I’ve been worried about you.”
She sees through my bravado same as last weekend when she left me with her therapist’s business card. But I’m still not ready to talk about it.
At my prolonged silence, Kristen continues. “At least tell me you’re sleeping.”
I link my arm through hers and offer up a nugget of honesty. Truth without the facts. “I can sleep when I’m not alone. And…I haven’t been alone. So, yes, I’m sleeping.”
A series of follow-up questions are on the tip of her tongue. I could deflect by telling her about the job offer at BCH, but I decide against it until the details are set in stone. An update consisting ofMom’s still got cancersits under the surface, but that’s nothing new.
The only thing I’m sure of is I can’t tell her about last night. It was probably a fluke anyway.
I don’t have to say the lie out loud to taste the bitterness of it on my tongue. It wasn’t a fluke. And I hate that Iknowit wasn’t.
Call it avoidance. Tell me I’m burying my head in the sand. Lecture me on the dangers of denying what happened to me. I’m a big girl, I can take it.
But just…not today.
Kristen manages my half-assed answer with grace. “You know how to reach me if that changes. Day or night, doesn’t matter.”
I take her hand. “I know.”
35
messages in a bottle
Rowan
Hannah
Can you get your hands on a tux by next Friday?
Me
Do I get to know WHY you’re asking me to secure such a torture device?
Hannah
Okay, dramatic