We were two young women who should not have clicked, and yet we did. When we set aside our inherent personality characteristics, we found we’re both grounded in the same values. We love our families, and we’re equally passionate about helping others.
When I wasn’t head down in my studies, and she wasn’t at a random party or weekend road trip, together we tackled mutual projects that brought us so much joy. We would help build houses for Habitat for Humanity, work in soup kitchens, visit nursing homes, and volunteer at dog shelters. Frankie would always tease that she did these things so God would forgive her many sins, but I knew she did it because that’s where she derived the most pleasure in life.
We graduated six years ago, and I followed her to Reynis. She worked there for the money, and I worked there because I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do for a career.
Over the years, I haven’t changed much. Sure, post-attack, I’m a little closed off and overly cautious with security, and yes, I’m afraid to go out of my house and I haven’t been able to muster up the guts to fly anywhere by myself, but I’m still the same calm, rational person who makes decisions based on careful thought.
Frankie is not the same person. She is still one of the kindest, most generous people I know, but she gave up her partying ways and her drive to earn money. In a move no one saw coming, she quit Reynis the year before last and became a yoga instructor. While she can still at times be driven by emotion, she’s now mostly peaceful and introspective, and she makes decisions based on a gut feeling the universe seems to impart upon her. She’s scaled back her materialistic ways because she makes nowhere near the money she used to, and I’ve never seen her happier.
I don’t question her changes, because she’s the same best friend I can count on. Moreover, I envied her ability to pivot, long before I got attacked in Phoenix. It made me more eager than ever to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, but I couldn’t come up with anything that spoke to my heart. So I stayed at Reynis because it was comfortable, and I didn’t have any better ideas.
Of course, that job is gone now, and in a way, it’s like I have a fresh slate. Maybe that’s the change I needed.
Just like maybe Baden is a change I need.
I pull into my garage, staying in my locked car until the heavy door rolls down behind me. The entire time I keep my eyes on my rearview and side mirrors to make sure no one sneaks in. It’s one of my new paranoid habits I can’t quite shake.
My detached garage leads to my back yard, surrounded by a six-foot privacy fence with bolted combo locks on the rear and front gates. At the back door, I enter the house and disengage the alarm at the panel. I start to reengage it once the door is closed and locked, but I remind myself that Frankie will be here soon. Surely I can stay in my house for a few minutes without the safety of the security system to protect me.
This is not an easy decision. I stand with my hand hovering over the panel as I run through a list of pros and cons.
Pros: It would be a brave step toward independence.
Cons: I could get murdered if someone crashes through my back door right now.
I’m just about to punch in the code to set the alarm when the front doorbell rings. I sigh with relief that the decision has been made for me, but I’m not a hundred percent sure it’s Frankie.
As I walk through the house, I pull up the system app and check the front camera.
It is indeed Frankie, looking cute as a button. She’s wearing a large puffy coat with fake fur trim on the hood, her breath coming out in frosty plumes. Her dark chocolate hair is pulled back into a ponytail, highlighting her stunning bone structure.
I open the door and she brushes past me. “Damn, it’s colder than a witch’s tit outside.”
“That’s not very namaste of you,” I point out as I shut the door. Of course, I engage the alarm.
“How can I be all namaste when you’ve been fired and you went on a date?” she counters with an impish smile.
“It wasn’t a date,” I hastily explain.
“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “If it wasn’t a date, you wouldn’t have mentioned he was devastatingly gorgeous.”
“It seriously wasn’t a date, but it was the start of a friendship.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” she huffs and removes her coat, tossing it over the back of the couch. “I demand tea and cookies.”