I was really happy when she agreed to get on that bus with me to come to New York. I could see where she was going in Willowdale if she stayed there. Her life was going to be one crazy bounce after another in gradually tighter circles until she fell between the cracks, like a pinball in a losing game. At least in New York, the rules are different.
The alley door closes with a bang and we all look up. Didi pulls a dramatic grimace as she hobbles through the door on crutches, her leg safely held off the ground, still in a cast. I don’t know what I was expecting, but after spending the last week fixing things she had broken, I guess I forgot her leg didn’t magically heal itself too.
“Oh, hey!” she calls out, grinning madly. “You’re back! How was your trip to Hooterville?”
I rush toward her, hugging her hello. She sways on her crutches and smiles up at me, blinking with bloodshot eyes and grinning happily.
“I heard you just slayed them, JoJo,” she sighs, her voice slow and kind of sticky like molasses.
“Yeah. I guess it all worked out.”
“Oh, don’t be so modest! You killed it. It’s dead. You are the boss of this level.”
“Didi, are you okay? You seem a little…”
“Pshhhht,” she scoffs, leaning to one side and waving the other crutch in the air clumsily. “I am just fine. I am more than fine. You saved my ass!”
“I guess I tried…” I answer, squinting at her. “Martha says she wants to see you… Hey, Didi?”
Didi stops waving at Hannah and looks back up at me.
“Hi, JoJo,” she smiles.
“Don’t call me JoJo, okay?” I ask her in a low voice. “Didi… Are you drunk?”
“Drunk?” she repeats, her voice rising. “JoJo, it’s like noon in the morning. I am not drunk!”
She may not be drunk, but she is definitely something. She doesn’t smell like alcohol, though she’s acting really strange. Her eyeliner is clumpy and uneven, and she’s breathing through her mouth.
“Are you high? I mean… Didi, I’m just trying to look out for you.”
She twists her mouth to the side, giving me an insincere wink.
“I know, Joe Mama,” she sneers. “Get it? Joe Mama? Man. I wonder why I never thought of that one before?”
“Didi…”
“I gotta go talk to Martha,” she announces, hobbling past me so close that I have to dodge one of her crutches. She makes it to the gallery door, swinging her cast back and forth.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Hannah pulling a face.
“Is she always like that?” I ask when she’s gone.
Hannah looks away quickly, concealing her expression. Desi purses her lips and glares at me, her fist on her hip.
“Oh, you notice something different about her?” she asks me sarcastically.
“I don’t understand… Are you telling me there’s something different, or something not different?”
“Desi, don’t,” Hannah pleads.
Desi raises one finger to shush her. “No… I’m tired of this.” She turns back to me. “I just think it’s strange that you guys have been best friends since the womb, but you don’t know your best friend is an alcoholic. How is that possible, Joe?”
I shake my head. “She’s not an alcoholic. She didn’t even drink today. Go smell her… You’ll see.”
Desi runs her tongue over her upper teeth.
“She didn’t even drink today,” she repeats acridly. “Because she still has painkillers from her leg. As soon as those are gone, she should be right back at it. I guarantee.”