Either way, he says my heart sounds good, my blood pressure is solid, and that I’m in extremely good health—though, he did lecture me about the use of steroids. I assured him I’m simply a late bloomer and working out a lot. I know, the lying’s got to stop, but what other option do I have? I can’t go around telling everyone the truth. (A) They won’t believe me, and (B) I’m fairly sure it’ll make my life more complicated.
I’m heading back in Mom’s gold minivan for an evening of BBQ burgers and John Wick (Dad’s favorite) when my phone rings. It’s River, and I hesitate to answer. Right now, my mind is like a shattered mirror, and little by little I’m gluing the shards back together. It’s taking a lot out of me. Still, I know she wouldn’t be calling if she didn’t need something. And, also, I still miss her.
“Hey, what’s up?” I say.
“Okay. I know I said it could wait, but now it can’t,” River blurts out at a million words per second. “Keni moved out because the other girls wouldn’t side with her to have me kicked out of the house. Now, they’re all sick, Huff, and I think she did it. I think she poisoned them, because I saw her with the orange juice before she left, and everyone had mimosas for brunch today except for me because I’m trying really, really hard to lay off carbs.” Inhale. Exhale. “Then they all started feeling nauseous, and eighteen girls are in the hospital being treated. It was her. I know it was.”
Finally River pauses, allowing me to talk.
“Are you sure it couldn’t be something else?” Attempting to poison an entire sorority is a pretty psycho thing to do, even for a psycho. It’s just too obvious.
“If you’re asking if I think the keto quiches I made put half our house in the ER, my answer is no. I ate a slice, and I’m fine. So are all the other girls who didn’t have mimosas. But I found out something else. I was going to wait to tell you. I know you needed to go home and see your family because of the settlement thing.”
“Hold on. How’d you know about that?”
“Crap. I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”
“Riverrr…” I snarl.
“Ugh. Fine! Kyle called and gave me a heads-up. That’s why I haven’t been trampolining your ass over this other stuff.”
“He called you?” I feel betrayed.
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” What happened to honesty in our friendship vow? I revoke your rights to my crunchy treats. “What the hell, Riv?”
“I’m sorry.” She whooshes out a breath. “He said if I cared about you, I’d give you space.”
“He doesn’t—he fucking—he doesn’t know what I—what my—” I pull myself back from the rant cliff and take a sobering breath. “Kyle means well,” I say with forced calm, “but he’s incapable of understanding other human beings, let alone me. Don’t ever do that again.”
“Wow. Sorry for giving a shit about you.”
“There’s a difference between giving a shit and treating me like a helpless child. I’m not your kid, River. I’m not your little brother. I’m your friend. And I don’t need your protection. If anything, it’s the other way around. The last week is proof of that.”
Silence.
I fully expect her to chew me out. Maybe I deserve it, but today seems all about lines being drawn in the sand.
“Um,” she clears her throat, “for the record, I don’t need your protection. I’m a full-grown woman. That said, I am a big enough person to admit that people need people, and I did need you this week. Because other people—bigger, stronger, and extremely violent—wanted to harm me. Also,” deep inhale, “there’s no denying you’re in a better position to defend me against unforeseen physical threats.”
“Thank you.”
“But! That doesn’t mean I’m helpless or can’t take care of myself.”
“Obviously. You’ve survived this long without me,” I concede.
“Wrong. I haven’t. And some days I wonder if this relationship is healthy because I’m just as dependent on you as you are on me.”
“An honor,” I say, being serious.
“Yes, Huff. It is. And I don’t care if you’re all hot and muscly and tan all of a sudden or I keep dreaming about you in the shower. You earned your spot in my life and don’t ever take that trust for granted.”
“Never have. Never would. What was that part about the shower?”
“Stop it,” she barks.
“Stop what? What were we doing in the shower?” I chuckle.
“Huff, I’m trying to have a serious conversation.”
I can’t help smiling. “Me too. Were we naked?” I tease. “Did you shampoo me, or did I do you?”
“You’re being all cocky—that’s not my Huff.”
“You want me to be insecure and weak again for you?” Never going to happen.
“Nooo,” she says. “I like the changes in you. I just miss predictable Huff sometimes. That’s all.”