Between Friends

by Kiernan, Kristy

  She got out and waved, then followed Emily through the open door, wondering why all the adults around her suddenly seemed so much more like they were there.

  Shutting the door cut off all the sunlight, and the house was dim and quiet. Emily held her hand out.

  “You want me to take your bag?” she asked, formal suddenly, like Letty hadn’t been staying over at her house since they were six years old.

  “No, I’m fine,” she said, heading up the stairs.

  “My room’s done,” Emily said as they turned down her hallway. “I think you’ll like it.”

  Letty couldn’t help the “Wow” that escaped her lips when she stepped into Emily’s room. No matter how childish she might have thought Emily could act sometimes, this was no little kid’s room. It was beautiful, with a big bed instead of the bunk beds, and some sort of yellowy-gold finish on the walls that made them glow, and vines had been painted up the corners and across the ceiling in big crisscrosses.

  Her bag slipped off her shoulder and thudded to the floor as she turned around. Emily giggled with her hand over her mouth.

  “I know,” she said. “Come look at the bathroom!”

  Her bathroom was just as jaw-dropping as her bedroom. It looked like everything was new, and she had a big tub with jets and a separate shower.

  And they were friends again, just like they always had been, just like that.

  In the end Letty decided to tell her everything, all of it. Of course Emily already knew about her parents having to go pick her up at the party, but she told her all the other things, too, about having sex, and going to Venice, and the roommate, and Aunt Cora and her mom coming to pick her up.

  Emily listened in awe, her mouth hanging open at all the right places, and then she came back to what Letty knew she would, what they’d been talking about in hushed voices for years.

  “How, well, how was it? Did it hurt?”

  And she told her the truth. By the time she finished, Emily was sitting up staring at her, looking kind of panicked.

  “But Letty, aren’t you afraid you might be pregnant?”

  Letty laughed, lightly, not trying to make her feel bad, but just feeling a lot more grown-up than her, or trying to anyway. Because of course she was scared. She’d have been scared even if Seth had been wrapped head to toe in a condom.

  “It’s fine, Emily,” she said, not feeling as certain as she sounded. It had been almost three weeks. She’d never tracked her period before, but it seemed like she should probably be having cramps by now. She hadn’t been worried, hadn’t really even thought about it with everything else that had been going on, but now, with Emily looking so concerned, she was definitely starting to worry.

  “But—”

  Letty’s cell phone rang, interrupting Emily, and she scrambled to find it in the soft folds of the comforter under her legs.

  “Mom?”

  “Hi, honey. Are you okay?”

  “No. I mean, yeah, we’re back at Em’s—and her mom went to pick up dinner—but what’s going on?”

  She heard her take a deep breath. “We still don’t know what happened, but your dad is having three bullets removed.”

  “Three?” she repeated, feeling sick to her stomach. “You said he was only shot once.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Well, where was he shot?”

  “Twice in the arm, once in the neck.”

  “The neck?” She cast a quick glance at Emily, who was still sitting up and turned toward her.

  “Yes, and that’s the one they’re worried about most, of course. He’s still in surgery, and they’re trying hard to get all the pieces out. One of the bullets in his arm went right through, so that’s a good thing. The other two broke apart.”

  She said all of it in a rush, but she couldn’t quite get to the end without her voice breaking.

  “Letty, now listen, it’s going to be fine. I’m not worried at all, okay? Things could have been a lot worse, and I know how strong your dad is. They’re just going to get the fragments out, and he’ll be bossing everyone around by tonight.”

  “Will you come get me?”

  “I promise that as soon as he’s out of surgery and awake, I’ll come get you.”

  “No matter what time?”

  “No matter what time.”

  It didn’t make her feel any better.

  CORA

  Drew came back into the room and shrugged his shoulders. If a shrug could be called elegant, Drew’s would be. Every bit of him was elegant, graceful, and fluid. He navigated through rooms like water, flowing around hard edges, coming to rest gently. I could watch him just moving about his apartment for hours. We’d never discussed it, but I imagined that his grace came from years of avoiding injury, every bump, cut, and bruise reason for concern.

  Had he been a match, I still wouldn’t have allowed him to donate. Not yet, anyway. I was not so convinced of my altruism when things progressed to a certain point. I knew it hurt him, hurt his sense of chivalry somehow, to see me lying there and not be able to help.

  It pained Ali, too; I knew that. But the difference was that with Drew I never knew when that pain might end our relationship; with Ali no such fear existed any longer. Drew had once, during one of our final arguments, said that he was less important to me than Ali was. Now, with both of them here, I knew he was right.

  It was wonderful to see him, I wanted to see him . . . but I didn’t need him. I did need Ali in my life. And Letty.

  When Ali had been gone long enough that we began to wonder what had happened, he’d gone looking for her, casting a glance behind him as if it might be the last time he saw me. There’s nothing like someone else’s fear to put your own in perspective, and I felt a sense of calm begin to steal over me as the door closed and softly clicked.

  I looked down at my lumpy, bandaged arm, and thought that I could handle whatever was coming. My life was going to change, yes, change dramatically, but hadn’t it always? Was change not perhaps the one constant in my life? Had I not prided myself on it, perhaps even lorded it over Ali and Benny—always slightly smug in their quiet, secure lives—a bit?

  I might have even lectured Ali on embracing change a few times. Talk about smug.

  When Drew returned with his shrug I felt stronger than I had in weeks and patted the bed beside me. He cradled me, not the way we used to as lovers, the full-fledged, shoulders-to-shins, wound about each other’s limbs like the roots of a banyan tree, but still, I felt held, and I felt safe and even, yes, lucky that he was here, was still my friend.

  “Couldn’t find her?” I murmured.

  “I checked the cafeteria, the waiting rooms on this floor, everywhere I could think of.”

  “She’s probably just giving us time—” I started, but was interrupted by the lost lady herself opening the door. My smile died on my lips when she looked at me. It had been almost two hours since I had seen her, but it could have been twenty years for the difference. Her face was pale and haggard, and she looked as if she might fall over at any moment.

  “Ali?” I asked, my voice wavering. It never crossed my mind that there was something wrong with Ali. I thought only of myself—that I was much worse off than they were telling me.

  “Hey,” she said, sounding faint, a weak echo of herself. “Everything okay here?”

  Drew and I looked at each other, our usual telepathy as strong as ever, both knowing that whatever she said next was going to change things.

  “I don’t know,” I said cautiously. “Is it?”

  She just looked confused for a moment, annoyed even.

  “Ali? What’s going on?” I demanded. “Just tell me. What did they say? Did something go wrong?”

  “What? No, no, it’s not that at all. You’re fine. It’s Benny.”

  She said Benny’s name with an inflection of wonder, as if she did not believe that she was mouthing that particular combination of words.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, as Drew and I i
nstantly dislodged from each other and struggled to sit upright at the same time.

  “He’s been shot. He was shot and now he’s in surgery. They’re trying to get the bullet fragments out.”

  “Shot?” Drew asked, sliding off the bed and moving across the room to Ali more quickly than I could even make sense of what she was telling us. He tried to guide her to the chair, but she resisted him and stayed on her feet.

  “No,” she said, pulling away, her eyes on my face. “I have to go back down. I just wanted to tell you. I thought . . . maybe, Drew, you could just take my car—”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, hastily dropping the bed rail down and getting out of bed. I felt dizzy for a moment, and then it passed and I was beside her. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she said. “They don’t know yet, or say they don’t. He wasn’t on a call, he wasn’t even on duty yet.” Her brow creased, as if she were piecing some difficult equation together, and then her lips parted in surprise, as if she’d arrived at the answer and she fumbled her cell phone out and held her hand up to keep me from asking anything else. She dialed and walked out the door as she held the phone up to her ear.

  Drew and I watched her go, both of us still stunned. As soon as the door closed I opened the little closet that held my belongings and began to dress.

  “Hey, hey, what are you doing?” Drew asked. “Come on, you need to get back in bed.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “Benny’s been shot, for God’s sake. I need to help Ali and Letty. She didn’t even say anything about her,” I said, zipping my jeans, no easy feat with one hand. “Help me with my shirt.”

  “No, I won’t help you with your shirt. Get back in bed, Cora.”

  Drew and I had never held each other back from doing what we needed to do. With the exception of my return to Naples, we’d rarely even had a discussion about the individual decisions we made in our lives. If he needed to go to Los Angeles with just a few hours’ notice, he simply told me, and I kissed him good-bye. If I was needed at a contentious town hall meeting in upstate New York, I got tickets without even consulting him, and he got my suitcases out of the closet for me.

  It had always been one of the defining—and best, as far as I was concerned—aspects of our relationship. My illness had changed that completely. He’d started hesitating when I had to travel, asking if I felt I was up to it, questioning my need to attend the event. I’d brushed off his protectiveness until I could take it no more; more proof that we were destined to be friends, not lovers.

  But the fights we’d had over it, and the eventual breakup, had made me feel powerful again, in control of my life and how I was going to live it.

  And now I felt more my old self than I had in a long time when I turned around to him.

  “No, I won’t. Now, I didn’t ask you to come,” I said. “I’m glad you did, but if you’re going to be here, then I need you to be here to support me, not soothe your own concerns.”

  His gaze didn’t waver, and he didn’t move to help me.

  “I am here to help you, Cora,” he said. “But I can’t help you if all I do is blindly allow you to do whatever you want. You might not want to face it, but you’re sick. And I won’t stand by and watch while you stubbornly refuse to do what’s best for you.”

  “Drew, I had a little tube put in my arm; I didn’t have open-heart surgery. Benny’s been shot, for God’s sake, and I’m not going to lie around in bed while my friend needs me.”

  “I need you, too, you know,” he replied, looking hurt.

  I sighed and struggled into my shirt one-handed. “You don’t. Not really. And besides, even if you did, it’s a matter of priority, Drew. You certainly don’t need me right this second. And Ali does.”

  “What did I even come here for?” he asked.

  “I assume you came to make sure I was okay,” I said, sitting down to slip my shoes on. “Which was lovely of you, and I appreciate it. But I am; I’m okay. Was there another reason?”

  “Actually, yes, there is,” he said.

  My fingers faltered at my laces and I looked up at him, straightening up slowly in the chair, feeling a dull throb in my arm.

  “Let’s have it, then,” I said.

  He took a deep breath and stuffed his hand in his pocket, pulling something out of one of them as he walked, trudged, really, as if the floor had turned to quicksand, to stand in front of me. I started to rise, unwilling to be put in the weaker position while he did this. But he placed a hand on my shoulder and said “Please,” before gingerly getting down on one knee.

  I sank back down onto the chair.

  “Cora, this wasn’t how I wanted to do this,” he said, cupping his hands in front of him before opening the glossy red ring box he held.

  I’ve never been prone to hysterical laughter, preferring low-key stoicism, but the sight of the diamond ring in the box, a perfectly beautiful round diamond, set in platinum and larger than any academic should be able to afford, made me yelp. I clapped my hand over my mouth as he thrust the box at me, trying to rid himself of the thing as desperately as I was trying to avoid taking it.

  “I love you,” he said, his clenched teeth nearly belying his words. “Will you marry me?”

  I breathed through my fingers, feeling faint. “Drew? What—why are you doing this?”

  “Well, it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he said. “I had this whole . . . look, the thing is, it makes sense to get married. For one thing, once we’re married my insurance—”

  His incredibly romantic approach to getting me down the aisle was interrupted by Ali coming back into the room. Drew stood immediately, both of his knees popping loudly in protest. Ali took in the scene, her face slack, unable, I imagined, to register anything after the day she’d already had, and was having still. I got to my feet.

  She shook her head and waved me down. I remained standing.

  “I have to go downstairs,” she said, her voice flat, nearly robotic. “There are detectives here.”

  “We’re going with you,” I said immediately.

  “No,” she said, looking to Drew for help. He spread his hands at her.

  “I can’t make her do anything,” he said. “Maybe you can.”

  “This isn’t about me,” I said, raising my voice as well as I could over my sore throat. “Now, where are we going?”

  Ali looked at me hard, then nodded, and had we spoken, it couldn’t have been more clear: We were, always had been, always would be, in this—whatever this happened to be that day, that year—together.

  “This is Tim Weinman,” Ali said, introducing the uniformed officer who met us at the door to a small waiting room. Drew and I introduced ourselves and stepped inside behind Ali.

  Another man, this one in a suit, his shirt limp from humidity, his tie hanging to the side like the end of a noose, stood.

  “Detective Alan Hudson,” he said.

  “Nice to . . .” Ali started before she trailed off and seemed to sag, bending slightly at the waist as if she had cramps.

  Tim immediately had an arm around her and guided her to a chair. I sat to her left and put my good arm around her shoulder.

  “What’s happening?” I asked as Drew took the chair next to me. “How’s Benny?”

  Detective Hudson said, “He’s still in surgery. We’re trying to piece together what exactly happened.”

  Ali twitched under my arm as if coughing silently. “Ali?” I asked. “Are you okay?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve been better.”

  She glanced at Detective Hudson, and Tim glowered at everyone, looking for someone to direct his frustration at.

  “Just help me keep everything straight, okay?” she whispered to me.

  “Of course,” I said.

  “And are you a member of the family?” the detective asked me.

  “Yes,” Ali said, “she is.”

  He took my name and turned to Drew, who didn’t even let him ask the question b
efore he was on his feet.

  “Should I, uh, go?” Drew asked, his face aflame in embarrassment.

  “Maybe you could get me some tea?” I asked, just as Ali began to speak. She quieted immediately. Drew bit his lip, tucking his hands in his pockets. I thought about the tips of his fingers encountering the ring box, and smiled sadly at him.

  We both knew my answer would be no, but I still wished that we’d had the time to finish—or start—his proposal the right way.

  I would have liked that memory, no matter how it turned out.

  When he left the room, Ali took a deep breath.

  “Mrs. Gutierrez, Officer Weinman said your husband talked to you about helping a friend of your daughter’s?”

  “Yes. Letty—”

  “That’s your daughter?” Detective Hudson asked, writing without looking at his notebook.

  “Yes. She’s had a boyfriend, Seth, for a while, we don’t know how long, really, we just found out about him this past week. Anyway, she went to Venice with him, and he got picked up for something, we don’t know what. Letty asked Benny to check on him, to see if there was something we could do to help him out. I guess his home life isn’t very stable; she said he had been living with his father, but that he’d been on his own for the last couple of weeks, staying with friends.”

  The detective was writing quickly, nodding.

  “When I called Letty to tell her about Benny, she asked if he’d gone to Seth’s father’s house. He’d gone to talk to her at school today, to find out some more information about Seth, to see what he could do to help, and I guess he told her he would go talk to his father. I didn’t talk to him after he’d spoken with Letty, so I don’t know if that’s where he was or not, but I know Seth lived pretty far out in the Estates. That’s really all I know.”

  “Do you know his last name? Or his father’s name? Address?”

  “Caple,” she said softly. “There are three Caples in the Estates, but I don’t know which address it is, or if any of them are even the right address. I didn’t know about Seth long enough to know any of that yet.”

  “Could we talk to your daughter?”