“Whoever that is, you shoot them. Shoot them right in their hand, so they can’t inflict this horror on anyone else,” Bex mumbled from her spot on the floor.
I squinted at her, feeling more than a little fuzzy, I vaguely wondered why she was on the floor when her room and her bed were meters away. After a second, I got up, deciding to save the person on the other side of the door from getting maimed by a sleep zombie Bex.
I flinched at the bright light that assaulted me when I opened the door, and it took a second for the people on the other side to come into focus. I blinked rapidly.
“I told you it was too early,” Amy hissed knowingly at Gwen, who was gazing at me with a soft look on her pretty face.
She ignored Amy. “Lily, sweetheart. I’m sorry, we can come back.” She motioned to turn around.
“Or,” Amy cut in, “we can take you out for a nice greasy breakfast with a Bloody Mary on the side, it’ll fix you right up.”
“You had me at Bloody Mary,” I heard Bex yell from somewhere behind me.
I flinched at the sound, too loud.
Amy grinned. “It’s settled then.” She pushed past my zombie form to make her way into my apartment.
My hungover brain realized I should have been embarrassed at these glamorous women seeing my far from glamorous home. Being in this neighborhood and looking at the crumbling paint covered by posters, the faded carpet disguised with colorful rugs, the ancient appliances. I’d been to their place many times. It looked like the pages of a magazine, mirrored the images in my head of what I imagined my life might be like one day. Seeing Amy standing in the middle of my living room clutching a bag that cost the same as three months’ rent had me cringing. And realizing my life might never get better than this.
She didn’t seem ruffled. “Point me in the direction of your room, Lily. I’ll get you an outfit together. Gwen will make you coffee.” She directed a pointed glance at Gwen, who was still standing in the doorway.
I stood silent, still bathing in the shame that had begun to wash over me. And trying not to vomit as my hangover intensified.
“That way,” Bex pushed herself off the floor and answered Amy with her hand. “I’ll shower first. Knock down the door if I’m not out in twenty, it means I’ve passed out,” she instructed seriously.
I nodded woodenly, watching Amy disappear into my room.
“Coffee,” Gwen declared with a soft smile.
She did as Amy did, strutting through the door in her designer duds, not blinking at the rundown apartment and the damaged vintage furniture.
“Diggin’ the boho vibe.” She winked at me. “I’ll totally have to get you to take me vintage shopping.”
I didn’t reply and her cheerful face changed, and she stepped forward, grasping my forearms lightly.
“I’m not going to ask how you are because that’s a stupid question,” she murmured. “I am going to tell you you’re not going to feel like this forever. It seems like it I know. But I promise it won’t last that long. It gets better.” Her eyes twinkled with unshed tears, and I knew she was thinking of the brother she lost a couple of years ago. Her voice was so convincing, I almost believed her—almost. Gwen had strength—family. Bex was all I had. I didn’t have family. And I knew what little strength I had was keeping me upright. It wasn’t going to chase away the big sad, or the demons. Wasn’t going to wrench the weight off my chest.
Gwen continued, “I know you don’t like to talk about yourself. You think that you need to handle all of your problems alone. You don’t,” she squeezed my arms, “you’ve got people around you. Whatever you need. If you want to talk or just go to a crappy romance movie, I’m here for you, girl,” she said quietly.
I blinked away the tears at the support she was offering, but managed a small nod.
“Thanks, Gwen,” I choked out, unable to say much more.
She gave me a small smile, not making me feel awkward at my inarticulate response.
“It’s what friends are for, Lily, remember that.” She released my arms. “Now, let’s get you caffeinated, and then we can set to repairing that hangover,” she said with a knowing grin before she moved toward the kitchen.
She skirted past a wayward wine bottle to reach the coffee pot. She was dressed all in white, her chocolate hair piled atop her head. Her body didn’t betray the fact she’d had two children, she seemed to be some kind of freak of nature. You’d expect someone like that to be frightfully awful and stuck up. Gwen was neither.
I tried to let her words penetrate. To give me a sense of hope that she might be right. Maybe one day I’d find a way to believe those words. But right now, the darkness of grief had a firm clutch on me, so firm that I worried I’d never see the light again.