Pretty Hurts (Left 1.50)

“I understand it’s a lot to take in.”

“What do you need from us?” Houston asks.

“A really good recommendation on a barber?” I reply only half joking.

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “I have a good friend, Edgar Gilborn. He keeps me trimmed up and runs an old school style barbershop not too far from the house. He uses talcum powder and hot towels. He’s got a varied clientele. You’ll fit right in.”

“You promise you’re not just saying this to make me feel better, are you?”

He laughs. “No. You and Liv have long memories. I would never do that.”

“Good.”

Standing, Liv rushes over to hug me. “I can’t believe you’ve been going through this alone.”

“It’s not your fault. I had to get my head right before I shared this with anyone else.”

“I should’ve known.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m a master at hiding things. It’s pretty much what I do for a living, hiding what others would perceive to be a flaw.”

“I know, but I’m your best friend.”

“Which is why I told you first.”

“No one else knows?”

“Not even my mother,” I admit, ashamed of my cowardice.

“You know I’m here for you whatever you need, right?”

Warmth fills my body. “I do. Thank you for that.”

“Of course.”

“Enough about me, how’s the little bean in your belly?” I ask.

“Craving crazy things,” she answers with a huff.

I laugh. It feels good to do that. “Like what?”

“Garlic and onions on everything when I hate both of those things.”

I smile. “Could be worse. It could be like soap or soap powder.”

“Gross. Maybe I’ll count myself lucky then.”

“When were you thinking about going in, Eifa?” Houston asks.

“As soon as possible.” I swallow. “The longer I wait, the more anxious I become.”

“Let me give him a call, okay?” Houston asks.

I nod my head as my anxiety spikes.

“Hey, don’t worry. We’ve got this together. You’re not alone anymore.”

He squeezes my shoulder, and I rest my hand over his, enjoying the feeling of support and inclusion.