Grace
I think you and I could have the best time anywhere, so stop worrying.
Alix tried not to fall in love with that line. She failed a little.
Phyllis padded back in with a mug of tea and looked Alix up and down. “You look like a person who has been returned to factory settings.”
“Is that a euphemism?” Alix joked.
Phyllis didn’t tease. She crossed the room and brushed a stray damp strand of hair from Alix’s forehead like she had a right to and said, “You look like someone who just remembered what it’s like to want.”
Alix chewed on her lip. “I’m worried it’s a little unrequited.”
“That’s the fun part, isn’t it?” Phyllis asked. “Figuring out if the other person feels the same.”
“Maybe if you’re a masochist,” Alix muttered.
Phyllis pretended not to hear and returned to puttering around the bungalow, leaving Alix alone with a window full of Silver Lake in the afternoon and a hand-shaped warmth where an old woman’s fingers had just been.
She sat on the arm of the couch and watched the street. The neighbor’s orange cat did that weird sideways trot cats do when they’re offended by the air. Someone tried to parallel park and gave up. A girl in a bright red jacket rode a bike past with grocery bags dangling from the handlebars like flags. The city hummed. In the reflection she could see herself, phone cradled against her chest like a talisman.
Grace’s dots popped up again, then her contact picture filled the screen. She was FaceTiming.
Alix’s heart climbed up into her throat and looked around for a seat. She could say no. She could suggest tomorrow. She could pretend to be busy. She could do all the small self-protective things that had kept her safe and lonely for years.
Instead, she answered. The call connected to Grace’s face at a flattering angle that somehow still managed to be candid. She looked like she was sitting in bed with a cup of tea and a smile that made Alix’s stomach do a trampoline flip.
“Hi,” Grace said, which was not a remarkable word, except Alix was pretty sure it was her favorite thing ever spoken.
“Hi,” Alix answered.
“Connie asked if you needed a care package of ‘vegan’ pastelitos for the plane next time,” Grace said, deadpan.
“Oh God,” Alix said, laughing. “Tell her I have to consult my lawyer.”
Grace put a hand to her heart. “I’ll write up the retainer contract.”
Alix pretended to study her. “You know, you look different without fluorescent airport lighting. Almost human.”
Grace smirked. “Big talk from someone who nursed a tummy ache for two days on vacation.”
Before Alix could reply, a familiar voice drifted from the hallway. “Is that the hot lawyer?”
“Phyllis,” Alix scolded, though it was only half-hearted. “Boundaries!”
Phyllis appeared anyway, robe cinched, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. She leaned down into the frame like she was checking Alix’s screen for typos. “Hello, Gator. I’ve heard so much about you I feel like I should bill you for emotional labor.”
Grace laughed. “Hi, Phyllis. I’ve heard a lot about you too.”
“Only the bad parts, I hope.” Phyllis eyed Alix, then turned back to Grace. “You know, she still hasn’t cleaned the hair out of the drain from before she left, and I’m starting to think it’s some kind of nesting ritual.”
Alix groaned. “Can you not?”
“What? I’m setting expectations,” she said with mock innocence. “It’s important in relationships — friendly or otherwise.”
Grace looked like she was trying not to laugh. “Noted.”
Phyllis adjusted her glasses and studied Grace through the screen. “You have kind eyes. And the posture of someone who pays their taxes on time. Good. She needs more people like that in her life.”
