by Piper Lennox
She fumbles with the soap in Walt and Mark’s bathroom. “A new cat,” she guesses, which just about pierces my heart. Buttons passed away in the spring, after a nasty fight with another raccoon. I almost replaced him before London could find out...but something told me she deserved the truth.
Colby tried like hell to save it. Stitched it up right there on the balcony at dawn, blood soaking the fabric of her jeans as she worked.
“Should we take it to your clinic?” I passed her another towel, watching the cat’s chest rise and fall with a fast, off-beat pace.
“If I can slow down the bleeding, yes,” she panted. Her eyes were intensely focused on the sterilized needle in her gloved hands. “But....”
I saw her swallow hard as the needle passed through again.
“But,” I repeated quietly, kneeling beside her. She didn’t stop working until the cat’s breath stopped completely.
And even then, she only paused.
“Colby.” I was tempted to shake her shoulders, thinking she was stuck in some strange trance: she kept sewing the wound shut, joining these patches of bloodied, marred fur like a life still depended on it.
“I’m not letting London see him like this,” she snapped. The angry way she shrugged me off would have shocked me, but it was her sudden tears that stole my attention.
“She doesn’t have to see him at all. We’ll bury him, then—”
“Then what, go get a new cat?”
I shut my mouth.
“I’m going to tell her. And I think she should see him, at least to say goodbye.”
Her face was gentler now, but her focus hadn’t diminished. It was easy to see what she was thinking.
It’s important to say goodbye, because we don’t always get that chance.
“Okay,” I told her, getting to my feet. “Tell me what you need.”
Colby looked at me, surprised. “Uh...warm—warm water. And dish soap. A washcloth or something.”
We washed the blood away together after I gloved up. Little by little, her tears stopped.
Of course, they came back in droves when London woke up. I broke the news while Colby stood in the doorway of London’s bedroom, barely keeping herself together.
London tiptoed to the little box near the patio door. We had him bandaged, wrapped in a flannel blanket, all evidence of his battle scrubbed clean and hidden. As soon as she crouched down to say her goodbyes, I caught her shoulders hopping up and down. She was crying.
My instinct was to jump right into action. Dad Mode: make everything better, as fast as possible.
But I only took one step before Colby lowered herself beside London. I watched her arm slip around her, pulling her close. She whispered something. Probably not any words that could make everything better, but clearly some words that helped.
London turned down my many offers for a new kitten, which I started to dish out as soon as the crying stopped that evening.
“Shut up,” Colby hissed. “When she’s ready, she’ll tell you.”
So I shut up. It was hard, but I managed.
It was only in the last few weeks that London started asking for a new cat. If I hadn’t already planned our vacation—with all possible cat-sitters somehow inviting themselves along, booking their flights before I could protest—I would’ve gotten her a kitten at the first mention.
“No,” I say now, helping her dry her hands, “it’s not a new cat.” I get to her level. “We’re going to Kona tomorrow.”
She gasps. I hold up my hand to ward off the explosion, checking the hallway behind me. Everyone else is occupied in the kitchen, their voices and the clatter of silverware on plates more than drowning me out.
“What do you think,” I whisper, “Colby will say if I ask her to marry me?”
London’s squeal could summon dolphins, if we lived just a little bit closer to the shore.
Colby
“Breakfast-in-bed delivery. You decent?”
I sit up and rub my palms into my eyes, barely making sense of Dad’s voice through the door. “Yeah,” I mumble. “Come in.”
Dad opens the door with one hand, the other balancing a tray with two bowls of Kona Creamery ice cream. Pretzels, white chocolate, and salted caramel.
The clock reads nine a.m. “Little early for sugar,” I yawn, but thank him when he hands me one of the bowls. He sits on the edge of my bed with the other and digs in.
“I also brought you coffee, just the way you like it.” He nods to the mug on the tray, a third-empty. Spilled coffee and creamer floods the grooves at the edge. “How’d the bridal emergency turn out?”
“Not bad. Not perfect, but, you know. Pretty close.” Less than an hour after I landed in Hawaii yesterday, I’d been summoned to hem Kai’s fiancée’s new wedding dress, after the other was lost on their flight from California.
“Been a while since you sewed fabric instead of living things, I bet,” Dad jokes, which makes me laugh, if only because I said essentially the same thing to Tanya, the maid of honor, when I showed up at her house jet-lagged but caffeinated, armed with Mom’s sewing kit.
“Good to have my room back.” I motion with my spoon around the bedroom, finally vacated by Aunt Rochelle.
“Tired of sleeping on the pullout sofa every time you visit?”
“No. I mean, yeah—but I’m mostly just happy Aunt Rochelle’s back in her house. For her sake.”
Dad scrapes the bottom of his bowl and sighs. “It was a long road to get her back on her feet. I’m happy, too.” He watches me spoon some ice cream into the coffee before sipping. “Never did ask you how you were handling things after Eden passed away.”
This is a turn I didn’t expect. Dad doesn’t do feelings too well. He’s more of a cool-things-down kind of parent, waiting until the dust settles before cementing over the cracks. Usually with ice cream.
“The first year was harder than this past one.” The last dregs of caramel in my bowl stretch into a ribbon from the spoon. I set it down. “Moving out of the old apartment helped. And, you know...making new friends.” It might be stupid, but I feel a sudden pang as I think of everyone back in Cali. Georgia and Clara still live across the lot, currently on the hunt for someone to take my old room; Walt and Mark live just two units down from Orion, London, and me. It’s strange to think I won’t see them at all for the next few days.
“I’m proud of you. For the way you handled everything.”
Surprise Number Two. “Handled?”
He nods, finishing the caramel from my bowl. “Staying out there, toughing it out till you got another job.” His smile is almost invisible, but I catch it. “Even with your mom giving you grief.”
“Huh.” I hide my smile behind my coffee. “She always made it sound like you were on her side on all that.”
“I kind of was,” he admits, “but only because I miss having you home. And I thought it’d be nice having you attend my alma mater.”
“Manoa is great. But...I have to get to vet school on my own.” The mug clangs against the base of my lamp as I set it on the nightstand. “Like, yeah, it would be a lot easier if I moved back here and worked at the clinic with you guys, but it wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t feel like you earned it.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “I know.”
As soon as Dad leaves, our breakfast dishes clattering down the hall, my phone pings. MISSED YOU AT FAMILY DINNER LAST NIGHT.
The picture that follows is a selfie: Orion in front, with Walt, Mark, Georgia, Clara, and London grinning from their places at the table behind him.
I send him a selfie of me lying back in bed, pouting. NO FAIR.
CALL ME WHEN RECEPTION ENDS. He follows it with a heart emoji. I send one back.
Last year, the day of Orion’s biopsy results, I let Clara dye my hair.
“All I’ve got is pink,” she warned me, tousling her own hair as an example. “It’s not totally permanent, either.”
“That’s fine. Anything to distract me until he ge
ts back.” I plunked myself down on the stool she’d pulled up to the kitchen sink. “Work your magic.”
“Can we film it?” Georgia asked, already grabbing the camera.
“Sure,” I sighed. Why the hell not.
It was going to be okay no matter what his results said. This is what I kept telling myself, while Clara angled the produce sprayer down my scalp, and Georgia hovered over my head with the camera, standing on another chair. If he was in the clear, we’d celebrate and thank the powers that be for this close call.
And if he wasn’t, we’d play the waiting game, chugging through the backslide and dialysis until he needed my kidney. I knew it would be a battle getting him to accept it, no matter how touched he was by the gesture itself. Orion was stubborn. But not quite as stubborn as I could be.
So, I thought, taking a breath when I felt Clara rub the paste-like dye into the ends of my hair (I’d later thank them for talking me out of a full-head coloring), no matter what happens, we’ll be okay.
“This is Colby, our beautiful roommate,” Georgia crowed, shoving the camera into my face. “She was in dire need of a hair update. I suggested ashy blonde highlights, but what can you do?”
“Pink will suit her just fine.” Clara winked at me and set the kitchen timer for the dye to settle in. “And even if she hates it, we know London will love it.”
London did love it. The two inches of pink at the bottom of my hair were as fascinating to her as if I’d grown tresses made of pure glitter. She tangled and untangled them with her fingers all afternoon while we waited for Orion to get back and give me the news. London had no idea. For once, I agreed with him that hiding the truth was for the best. Just until he knew for sure.
The key in the lock sent my pulse into overdrive.
“Daddy’s home!” London leapt off the couch, snagging my hair in the process, and nearly tackled Orion as soon as he got inside. “Daddy, come see what Colby did! Come see her hair!”
“Wow.” He reached out and turned a piece slowly, when I summoned the strength to stand and greet him. “The twins’ doing, I presume?”
He was smiling. It had to be good news.
“How’d it go?” I mouthed, while London ran in circles around him chanting, “Pink hair, pink hair, pink hair” like some Children of the Corn tribute.
“Uh, hey, bug—go get your hairbrush. And you know that bucket with all the clips and bows?” Orion steered her into her bedroom. “I think Colby wants you to do her hair in even more pink stuff.”
If I hadn’t been so nervous, I would have pulled a face at him.
As soon as London was distracted, he waved me into the kitchen. “Biopsy’s fine. He still wants to adjust my meds and do the biweekly lab work for a while. Maybe another biopsy, in a few months.” Only now did I see his smile slip. “I mean...it could change.”
He barely got the final word out before I kissed him. We both laughed, teeth hitting the other’s lips.
“I’m so happy.”
“It might change,” he repeated.
I knew what he was really saying: he might change. We might. Everything we had, new as it still was, could fall apart at any moment.
But I also knew that this was the oldest, dirtiest truth in history. Things were always changing. People were always changing, sometimes for the worst. But sometimes, for the better.
“Not a question of ‘might.’ I know it will, someday.” I ran my hands down his chest and noticed the hair stuck on his shirt. Long, dirty blonde, but with a sudden flood of pink at the end. “But at least we can hope for a lot of days in between.”
“How was the wedding?”
“Good. Just left.” I tuck my phone against my neck and kick off my heels in the back of Mom’s car. Dad’s driving; my mother scrolls through the photos on her phone and sighs happily about Rochelle’s renovated house, where the ceremony was held. Kai and Mollie got married in front of the same koa tree Eden pulled me out of when we were kids, the day I got the scar in my lip.
“I really miss you.” Orion’s voice crackles through the phone. “When did you say you’d be back?”
“Five days. Think you can make it that long without me?”
“No. Good thing I won’t have to.”
“What?”
“This isn’t the turn,” Mom chides Dad from the front. “Why are you going this way?”
“I know what I’m doing, hon.” I catch him glancing at me in the rearview, right when Orion’s phone call ends, no warning.
“Is there an afterparty or something?” Mom cranes her neck at the small hotel popping out of the darkness.
“Not for us.” He looks at me in the mirror again and smiles. “This one’s for Colby.”
The car swings through the drop-off loop in front of the building. Through the glass doors to the lobby, I see six familiar, grinning faces.
“Oh, my God!” I scramble out of the car so fast, I don’t realize I left my shoes behind until Orion lifts me off the cold lobby tile in a sweeping circle of a hug.
“What are you guys doing here?” I laugh, as everyone crowds in.
“You’ve been in our lives a year now,” Georgia says, folding her arms across her chest, “and nobody but Orion has gotten to see Kona yet. That needed to be fixed.”
“They invited themselves,” Orion deadpans.
“Tickets were a steal.” Walt elbows Mark. “Mr. Travel Planner here knows all the ins and outs of booking flights.”
“And hotel rooms,” Mark adds. “Booked the three best rooms in this place.” His eyes slide to the doors behind me, where my parents are straggling inside. “If your folks don’t mind you staying here with us, instead of at home.”
Dad shakes everyone’s hands, pulling Orion into a hug. “Don’t mind one bit. I’ve been using Colby’s room for an office—it’ll be nice to get it back.”
I squint at him. “You’ve known all about this for weeks, I bet.”
“Guilty.” He waves hello to London and immediately launches into their complicated high-five routine, born during their visit to California at Christmas. London looks exhausted; it’s way past her bedtime. Still, she giggles sleepily and follows through.
“Would have been nice if someone warned me,” Mom chimes, but her annoyance—if there was any really there to begin with—fades as she hugs Orion.
After some catch-up in the lobby and promises to meet for breakfast, my parents head home. Georgia heads off with her camera to explore the hotel for the blog; Walt and Mark bid us goodnight and go upstairs.
“Guess I should go up, too.” Clara points to London, asleep in the armchair between Orion and me. “Want me to watch her tonight? Give you guys some privacy?”
I’m about to tell her that’s sweet of her to offer, but not necessary—when Orion quickly answers, “Yes, please.”
Clara laughs and scoops London up, nodding goodnight to us on her way to the elevator.
“Just us.” Orion runs his teeth along his bottom lip, while his eyes sweep my body. “You look incredible.”
I roll my eyes, my laugh every bit as tired as I feel. “Disheveled? Yes. Decidedly unsexy? Double yes. Incredible? Not a chance.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
My laugh gets louder when he leans over the empty chair and runs his hand up the slip in my dress.
The hotel room is small and basic, with a pretty unspectacular view of the road and some fast-food chains. I’m guessing Mark was joking when he said he got us the best in the place.
But it is still a hotel room—and we’re all alone.
Orion
I press my mouth between her shoulder blades as soon as her dress slips to the floor. She whispers my name and tilts her head back; I bring my mouth to her neck, one braced there under her chin, the other slipping into her panties.
“You’re already wet for me, Col.” I press my teeth into her shoulder until she shivers. My fingers graze her sex again.
“And?” She angles her hips to rub agai
nst my erection. “You’re already hard for me.”
“Call it even.” I turn her away from the window and lift her chin with my free hand, kissing her while my fingers push back between her legs.
She breathes my name with a shudder as I slip them inside. I press my palm against her clit and work my fingers faster the harder she pants, the more she takes my name and turns it into a plea.
“Sleeping in that bed without you was horrible,” I whisper. My tongue traces the edge of her ear, a move I’ve learned, in the last year, drives her crazy. “Had to take care of myself a few times just to feel tired.”
She’s breathless, but I still hear the smirk as she says, “Bet it reminded you of the old days, huh?” Her hand finds my open fly and grabs me through my boxers. The curse I let out makes her smile again. “When you were—”
“Stupid.”
“I was going to say ‘single,’ but, yeah.” Her lips capture mine. “A little stupid.”
“Very stupid. Can’t believe I almost let you get away.” I feel the back of the bed against my legs and wonder how she did it, making me migrate across the room with no awareness.
We lie down. She pulls down my pants and boxers to wrap her hand around me, pumping faster whenever I increase the speed of my fingers inside her. Even without announcing it, we know we’re in a race to get the other there first. I don’t bother telling her there’s no way she’ll win; my mind’s half-occupied by the ring in the nightstand.
I thought about asking her on the beach on a walk to watch the sunrise, or at dinner somewhere amazing, with the setting sun behind us. Even hiking to a volcano crossed my mind a few times.
In the end, I decided against anything too planned. Too perfect. There’s no such thing.
I’m going to ask her tonight, so she can wake up tomorrow and relive the excitement all over again when she suddenly remembers. The way I feel every morning, when I roll over and see her beside me.
Colby
I let go of Orion’s erection and lie back on the hotel pillows, utterly powerless against the storm he’s creating inside me. When I moan his name, trying to muffle it in the arm I’ve thrown across my face, he laughs.