I walked the drinks back to her and sat down on the floor. I passed her the tumbler of thick, creamy liquid and she peered inside it, then grimaced. She raised the glass and swirled it around. The creamy liquid coated the glass in a way that was very off-putting.
“I think I’m going to hate this.”
“Me too,” I said. “Also not a big fan of creamy alcohol. On the count of three?” I raised my brows in question.
She nodded at me, now smiling very openly over the rim of the glass. I was glad she’d let go of the pole.
“One, two, three.” We both sipped at the same time, holding eye contact, and then once the liquid had gone down, we continued to look at each other for a while.
“Huh! It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” I finally said.
“I know. It’s not that creamy. And not too sickly sweet like these liqueurs can be.” She took another contemplative sip. “Would you judge me terribly if I said I actually liked it?”
I laughed and topped her glass up without asking. She took another sip and nodded at me. “Not bad! Not bad.”
“Do you feel more inspired now for the shoot? Ideas that would make it more ‘cinematic’?”
She laughed. God, it felt good to make her laugh again. “I wouldn’t take it that far.” She eyed my glass thoughtfully. “You never used to drink that much.”
“Still don’t. Only on special occasions.”
“And this is a special occasion?”
“We’re still alive, aren’t we?”
She looked up at the tent roof and then at the walls. “For now.”
“Don’t be such a Negative Nelly,” I said, and she laughed again.
“I haven’t heard that in thirteen years.” I laughed too and when it petered out, we were staring at each other again. “What are you doing here anyway?”
I shrugged, trying to make it seem casual, make it seem like I hadn’t been overwhelmed by that caveman instinct to run through a storm to protect her.
“I knew you wouldn’t like this.”
“So you came to rescue me?” she asked. “Because I’m more than capable of handling myself, you know. I’m not the girl I used to be who always wanted you by her side because it felt better that way. You haven’t been around for a long time—not many people have, apart from my friends. I take care of myself now. I’ve had to.”
I sensed big emotions swelling in her. “Your parents?” I asked softly.
“My parents,” she stated coldly.
“How are they?”
“Not great.” She looked down at her glass, moving the ice cube around with her finger. “My mom went into another depressive cycle. But she hasn’t really emerged from it this time. They’ve tried different medicines, even ketamine—nothing’s worked.”
“I’m so sorry. Your dad?”
“Well, you know how he enjoyed drinking. Especially after . . . what happened.” She cleared her throat nervously. “So my mom’s depressed and my dad is angry and drunk.”
“Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t know it had gotten that bad.”
“How would you? You weren’t there.”
A knife twisted in my gut. “I’m sorry about that.”
She made a show of brushing my apology off, as if it didn’t matter. As if me not being there hadn’t been an issue, but I could see now that it had. For the first time ever, the real and very raw consequences of me leaving were apparent. And I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive myself for abandoning her to deal with all of that alone.
I looked down at her arm. “Sunflower tattoo,” I whispered softly.
