In Harmony

“I know,” Bonnie said with a short laugh. “Teenagers, right? We’re always the last to know. But Willow’s not feeling well. I think it’d be best if she stayed home from school today. I can drive her home or…” A pause. “Yes, of course,” she said, shooting me a sympathetic look. “You can come pick her up from here.” A pause. “Very good, I’ll text you the address. Okay, bye now.”

She pressed the button and handed the phone back to me. “I’d say you have about twenty minutes to get cleaned up.”

“Thank you so much,” I said. “Again.”

“Mom, you’re a straight-up rock star,” Angie said.

Bonnie pursed her lips. “Well, I’m not doing that again, ladies. It may have worked, though. Your mother—I hate to say it—sounded more irritated than concerned.”

“Sounds about right,” I said.

Bonnie stood up and smoothed down her skirt. “Get showered, wash your hair, and make sure you use the mouthwash on the sink. Angie, maybe you could loan Willow some clothes. She’s too tall for you, but perhaps one of your skirts and a T-shirt? I’ll put your clothes in the wash and you can pick them up, later. Breakfast? I was going to do eggs and bacon.”

I stared at this woman. A real mom doing mom things. It was like seeing a ghost or a UFO. I’d heard they existed but had never seen it for myself.

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“Thanks, Mom,” Angie said. “You’re the best.”

She made a hmmmph sound, then reached out to cup my chin. “Next time, if you think you’re going to have a rough night, call Angie first, okay? And then Angie will tell me. Won’t she?”

“Yes, she will,” Angie said.

Bonnie patted my cheek and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

I shook my head. “Your mom…”

“Yeah, she’s a keeper. She’s a therapist. Reading a situation and keeping it confidential is kind of her specialty.”

A therapist, I thought. Immediately followed by Isaac’s words: everything happens for a reason.

I took a shower in Angie’s bathroom, washing away last night under the warm water and flowery shower soap. Mouthwash rinsed away the taste of vomit and booze. The reflection in the mirror showed puffy, bloodshot eyes. I gave more silent thanks to Bonnie’s quick thinking by saying I was sick. There was no way I could’ve gone to school anyway.

When I came out of the bathroom, Angie gave me a long flowing skirt with green and red flowers on it, and an oversize green T-shirt that said, IRONY, the opposite of WRINKLY.

Angie sized me up “Sloppy, but it’ll do.”

We went downstairs, and I had a few bites of egg and bacon while sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter. The McKenzie’s house was as updated as mine, but on a smaller scale, and with all the warmth and comfort mine lacked.

Bonnie must be good at her job, I thought.

Twenty minutes later, my cracked phone buzzed a text. It was my mother.

I’m outside.

“I’ll bet she regrets coming all the way over here after you offered to drive me home,” I said, feeding Barkley a piece of my bacon. “Her suspiciousness wore off and now she’s just irritated she had to come and get me.”

Bonnie’s mom raised her eyebrows at me. “Was she the reason for your rough night?”

“No,” I said.

“Then I would go out there and apologize to her.” She smiled behind her cup of coffee. “You know? For the inconvenience?”

I had to laugh. It had only taken one phone conversation, and Angie’s mom had read the situation with mine perfectly.

I slid off the stool, and Angie and Bonnie walked me to the front door, Barkley in tow. Outside, my mother waited in her silver Mercedes. I rubbed the dog’s ears, and then hugged Bonnie, hoping to take a little bit of her comfort home with me.

“Thank you,” I said.