The Friendship Pact

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “It was not your fault, Kor. It’s no one’s fault. That’s why they call it an accident.” He spoke firmly, a little too firmly, maybe because seeing his friend like that was such a shock.

  “He was coming after me.”

  “Bailey told me you were upset. Understandably so. And you’ve always gone up that mountain when you needed time to think.”

  I nodded. Took a minute to block out any awareness of Bailey. So she’d called Jake? Or had Jake called her?

  I didn’t want to know. Or care.

  “Did she tell you why I was upset?”

  “No, and I didn’t ask. You and Danny...it’s been a horrendous year for you two,” Jake glanced back at the bed. I could tell he was having a hard time containing his emotions. “I don’t blame either of you for being upset. You guys, you’re not only my friends, you’re an inspiration to me, Kor. No matter what happens...you love each other so much, you always find a way to move through it together.”

  Unlike him and Bailey? And how were he and Jenna doing? Was Bailey a threat to them, too?

  I closed my eyes. Refused to think about her. When I opened them again, I watched my husband breathe. And thought about Jake’s words. Danny had been coming after me. If he’d been planning to leave me for Bailey, which even I knew was ludicrous, he would’ve just let me go, and talked to me when I’d had time to deal with my emotions.

  But he’d come tearing after me. So panicked he’d even forgotten to put on his seat belt.

  Was it because, as Jake said, our love was stronger than anything else that might happen to us? Could Jake see, from his outside perspective, more than I could feel at the moment?

  I hoped so.

  He had to be right.

  I needed something in my world to be.

  So I clung to his words.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A month passed. And then six. Mattie learned to crawl. And to walk. He said Ma for the first time. And the millionth. He also said bye-bye, no, and me, which was quickly followed by me want.

  He did not say Aunt Kora or Uncle Danny or any rendition thereof.

  Packing up the last of the things in her bathroom, Bailey turned to look at the vacant walls, the racks minus towels, the bare floor. When she moved in, she’d thought she’d grow old in that house.

  Instead, she was taking her son and moving to Boston. She’d found a position in a family firm where all the partners were women. Not that it mattered to her one way or another, but she was interested in working at an office where everyone was on an equal playing field. The firm was smaller, so her pay would be less, at least starting out.

  But she’d be in Boston. Not Pittsburgh. Anywhere was better than Pittsburgh.

  “Ma ma ma ma ma...” Mattie, adorable as always in denim overalls and tennis shoes, came running into the bathroom, a stuffed car in his hand, which he held up to her.

  “Where did you get that?” she asked, taking one last look at the master bath before closing the door behind her. She was closing off every room as she finished it. He ran down the hall and pointed, a big grin on his face. He’d found the suitcase she’d packed for him for the first couple of days. They’d be staying in a motel until she could find a house to rent. Or a two-bedroom condo.

  “How did you get that unzipped?” she asked, surveying the clothes, toys, diapers and other paraphernalia covering pretty much every inch of the nursery floor.

  And how had he done this much damage so quickly?

  Before she could get an answer, either from him or herself, the doorbell rang.

  Mama Di. Coming to say goodbye.

  Putting on a smile, Bailey grabbed up her son and went to the door.

  Koralynn’s mother had a small box in her hand, which she set on the half wall in the foyer as she reached for Mattie.

  “Come to Gram, big boy,” she said. “Tell me what you’ve been doing today.”

  He held up the stuffed car. Gave her a wet kiss, and then tried to put his finger up her nose.

  “He unpacked,” Bailey told the woman who’d been a mother to her since the first day they’d met. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he doesn’t want to go.” Mattie couldn’t have any idea what was in store for them. Or any reason to care whether he grew up in Pittsburgh or Boston.

  They talked for a few minutes about Bailey’s last-minute details. Papa Bill sent his love and said to tell Bailey they’d be making a trip to Boston as soon as she was settled.

  They still treated her like a daughter. Were still her parents.

  “How’s Danny?” Bailey asked. She always asked. Every single week when she and Mama Di met for coffee, or lunch.

  “The same.” In six months, other than the abrasions and lacerations and broken collarbone healing, there’d been no change in Danny Brown at all. He was still breathing on his own. Still had all organs functioning. Was still unconscious.

  In a vegetative state, the doctors said. He had regained a sort of a wake-sleep cycle, but exhibited no signs of conscious awareness. “Dr. Gordon was in this morning,” Mama Di named the neurological specialist who’d been on Danny’s case since the beginning. “He said that based on this most recent set of neurological tests as well as Danny’s response to other stimuli, he still gives a fifty percent chance of full recovery.”

  Which was where it had been since that first week. Fifty-fifty.

  “It hasn’t gone down then,” Bailey said aloud, watching her “almost” mother intently, as though Mama Di could affirm Bailey’s hope for her friends.

  Mama Di nodded, but had an odd expression on her face. “That’s exactly the same thing Kora said.”

  At the mention of her friend’s name, Bailey’s heart skipped a beat, knocking her energy level down a couple of notches. She shoved it right back up again.

  “I got the letter back,” she said aloud. Koralynn had blocked her email the first week after the accident, so Bailey had written a long letter and mailed it to her a few days later.

  “She doesn’t wish you any ill will,” Mama Di had said at the time. “She just can’t focus on anyone but Danny at the moment.”

  She’d blocked her cell phone number. “She’s not talking to anyone except doctors and her father and me,” Mama Di had explained.

  But Bailey knew that wasn’t quite true. Kora was talking to Jake during the three or four visits a week Jake made to Danny—first in the hospital and now at the convalescent center.

  “Has she said anything about going back to teaching?” Bailey asked now. Kora had taken a leave of absence for the current school year and had until April to make her absence permanent. The school system had agreed to hold her job for the one year.

  “Yes.” Mama Di smiled, and nuzzled Mattie’s neck before putting the baby down. He toddled off, probably to do more damage to his room, and Bailey let him go. The entire house was baby proof. Particularly now that most of it was packed up. There wasn’t anything he could hurt himself with. “She called HR this week and said she’d be ready to return to school in the fall.”

  “What about Danny?”

  “For now he’s going to stay right where he is. She’s taking things one day at a time and letting the future figure itself out.”

  Those words sounded like Kora. And Bailey’s loneliness was almost intolerable.

  “Did you tell her I was moving?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  Mama Di’s silence was answer enough. Kora obviously either didn’t care that she was going. Or was glad to have her gone.

  “She’s driven by here, you know,” Mama Di said. “Many times.”

  Bailey had driven by Kora’s house, too. Daily in the beginning. Less frequently as the weeks passed, but still often. Just to see if lights were on. Looking for any sign—any
feeling—that Kora needed her. Needed help. She’d weeded the garden once the previous fall, even though it wasn’t really necessary. Shoveled snow a time or two over the winter.

  “She’ll be back, Bail.”

  Bailey couldn’t be patient any longer. The waiting was killing her. “I’ve lost fifteen pounds,” she said. That was after she’d shed all her baby weight. “I don’t sleep well....”

  Mama Di brushed a strand of Bailey’s long dark hair off her shoulder. “I know, sweetie,” she said, her eyes glistening. “I know you need to go. I just hate that you do.”

  “Me, too.”

  “So...you’ll be in touch? Call or email every day like you promised?”

  She nodded. And she would. For a while, at least. “You know we’re here for you, Bailey. You and Mattie both. Always. You’re our family.”

  “I know.”

  But Kora came first. Understandably so. That was how it should be. And why Bailey had taken Mattie to Florida to meet his grandfather and stepmother over Christmas. They’d stayed in a hotel. Had seen her father, who hadn’t made the trip to Pittsburgh to meet his grandson even once in eleven months. She and Mattie had gone there for Christmas dinner, and spent the remaining time on the beach and visiting with Moira, Brian’s caregiver, and her family.

  Thanksgiving hadn’t been as bad. She’d made a turkey and dressing, and Mama Di had prepared the rest of the meal. She and Papa Bill had stopped by Bailey’s to trade off helpings. Then they’d taken theirs—and enough for Kora and Danny’s mother—to the convalescent center to spend the day with Kora and Danny.

  “Remember to send lots of pictures,” Mama Di said.

  Bailey nodded. “I promise. I’ll text them,” she added. At least for a while. Until they all drifted further apart.

  When Mama Di leaned in for a goodbye hug, Bailey went into her arms and held on. She didn’t want to let go. Ever.

  But she did. She stood on the stoop a few minutes later with Mattie on her hip and waved goodbye.

  She didn’t cry. There was no point. She turned around and went back inside and saw the box Kora’s mother had left in her foyer.

  Putting her son down, she took the box. It was lighter than she’d expected and taped shut.

  Grabbing the scissors she’d been using to cut the packing tape, she slit the sides of the box. Opened it.

  And recognized the small purple drawstring bag. Purple had been her color. Kora’s bag had been green and yellow, of course.

  She didn’t need to open the bag to know what was inside. A necklace. The matching one was in Kora’s bag. They’d worn them religiously through high school. The day before they’d left for college, they’d admitted to each other that they both felt a bit silly wearing the cheap “best friends” jewelry now that they were adults, but neither could bear to take them off.

  The jewelry bags had been Mama Di’s suggestion. She’d made a solemn ceremony out of the whole thing. Taking Kora and Bailey to a department store to pick out the bags, and then having them write letters to each other to place in the bags with the necklaces. It was a friendship pact, Mama Di had said. Then she’d taken the bags. She’d said she’d keep them in a safe place, and if ever there came a time when Kora and Bailey were no longer close, she would give each girl her bag, which contained the other’s necklace and a letter. What they did with them from then on was their own choice.

  She’d hoped, of course, that they’d read each other’s letters and resolve whatever differences had come between them.

  Somehow, over the years, Bailey had forgotten about the pact. Or had figured that Mama Di had long since disposed of the necklaces.

  Hearing her son gurgling in the nursery—something she couldn’t decipher that no doubt made perfect sense to him—she stood in a living room stacked with loaded, taped and labeled packing boxes and stared at that purple velvet sack.

  What had Kora done with hers? Had Mama Di given it to her yet? Had she remembered? Or cared? Had she bothered to open it? Read Bailey’s letter?

  Bailey’s life had become little more than these questions, day after day, taking her in circles and getting her nowhere. Until, for her own mental health, she’d known she had to get away. Move somewhere else. Start a life that didn’t include memories of Koralynn—or the possibility of seeing her—around every corner. Something that hadn’t happened because Kora spent every waking minute at the center.

  With the bag in hand, she sought out a box that hadn’t yet been sealed. One with enough extra room to hold that purple bag. She found the perfect spot in a carton of towels and linens, then laid the bag safely inside and went to check on her son.

  Ten minutes later, she was back at that box. It didn’t matter. The letter was written so long ago, it couldn’t possibly be pertinent today. But just out of curiosity...What had Koralynn said to her that day? What had she thought was the most important thing she could say?

  With shaking fingers, Bailey untied the drawstring on that little bag. The letter was on top of the necklace, just as they’d solemnly placed them almost a decade and a half ago. The stationery was more fragile, thin where it had been folded for so many years. But Bailey recognized the flower garden pictured at the top. The stationery had been a gift to Kora from one of her mother’s friends and had always been in the top drawer of Kora’s desk.

  Feeling a little sick to her stomach, Bailey slowly and oh, so, gently unfolded that single sheet of paper.

  Her heart jolted as she instantly recognized Kora’s handwriting. Her Siamese twin of the soul had written one sentence.

  I’d give you a kidney.

  The same sentence Bailey had written to Kora on that long ago day.

  It had to speak to Kora. It just had to. She would read that note. Her heart, her soul would remember what her head had forgotten. She’d call.

  Bailey waited around for a couple of extra days. Putting off the movers and the new job. Kora’s life was filled with Danny. According to Mama Di, she spent every day from early morning until late at night with her husband. Caring for his physical needs. Keeping him connected to the world they’d shared. It might take her a day or two to read the letter.

  On the fourth day, when there was still no call, Bailey gave the orders to load the truck. She locked her house for the last time, turned the key over to the Realtor who’d sold it to her and moved to Boston.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I was a nervous wreck. School was due to start in less than a month and I wasn’t ready. Oh, I had my lesson plans. Those had been done in May, completed while I sat with Danny. I had project plans and photo displays all mounted on construction paper and ready to hang, too.

  I had a name tag tree for the west bulletin board in my room, with name tags filled out and ready for the kids to find on the branches.

  I’d talked to Danny as I made them, describing what I was doing, and held all the finished ones up in front of him, too, just in case my words prompted him to open his eyes to see them. He looked almost normal to me now. I’d even grown used to seeing the feeding tube taped to the side of his face.

  I talked to him incessantly—just like always, right? The doctor had said the more we touched Danny, the greater the chances that he might respond. Ditto for talking to him. So I did both. All the time.

  I was sitting on the side of his bed, holding his hand because his warmth still had that special power to make me feel secure and cared for, when Jake walked in one night in late July.

  “You look tired.” He told me that regularly. And it was true. I was tired. Tired of having my husband lie there lifeless. Tired of having my whole world consist of home, a route to and from the convalescent center, and Danny’s room. I didn’t even go down to the center’s cafeteria anymore. I made all my meals and brought them with me.

  Or skipped them. Either way was usually f
ine.

  “I’m...Can I ask you something?” I said that night as I moved away from Danny’s bed, giving his friend an opportunity to sit with him.

  “Of course.” Ignoring the chair beside Danny’s bed, Jake punched him lightly on the arm. “Hey, bud, how goes it?” Then he sat down on the side of Danny’s mattress and looked at me. “What’s up?”

  He’d gotten older over the past year—lost much of his boyish energy. He still looked like Jake. Sounded like him, too. But...something was missing.

  His necktie was still knotted close to his neck. Funny the things you noticed. Danny couldn’t stand to have his tie knot right up to this neck. He’d always said it made him feel like he was choking.

  “I sold the house.” I said the words softly, as if they’d be a little less real if I didn’t blast the news. There’d been a time when I’d thought I’d never leave that neighborhood. Bailey’s house had been just around the corner and we were going to raise our babies together. Watch them grow up and leave home. And then we’d all grow old together...

  “When?”

  “Two days ago. He knows,” she said, nodding toward Danny, “or at least I told him. But I haven’t told anyone else yet. I’m scared to death, Jake. What if I’m making a mistake?”

  “You aren’t.” He stood, coming over to sit in the chair next to mine. “What you’re doing is killing yourself, Kora. You’ve lost an entire year of your life—”

  “So has he,” I interrupted. We’d had this conversation before.

  “But you’re still capable of living yours.” His words were firm. And not especially kind, considering that Danny could probably understand what we were saying. According to his doctors, he had a 50 percent chance of doing so.

  “I am living mine. I’m Danny’s wife, Jake. It’s my job to pull him back to us.”

  The doctors had said that, too. Jake didn’t argue with me on that one.

  “They also said you need to build a life outside this room,” Jake reminded me. “If Danny does come back to us, he’s going to need a life to step into.”