“How?”
“By hanging all over me whenever Brenda was around. One time, she even jumped away from me when Brenda walked into the room, just to look more suspicious.”
“She deserved it,” Juliet argues.
“She probably did,” I relent. “The more time away from her, the easier it was to see her antics. She was good at projecting her own faults onto me.”
“At least Paige came out of it,” Lou says.
“Yeah, she’s worth a lifetime of Brendas,” I agree.
“When is she here next?”
“This weekend,” I tell Juliet. “Along with Mom and Dad. They’ll be here for a few weeks; Paige will be here for the summer. How long are you home for?”
“Planned for a week, but maybe two so I can hang out with your kid,” she answers. “As long as Lou doesn’t mind the company.”
“Of course I don’t mind. I’d like the company. Besides, it’s your house.”
“Mmm, feels more like yours,” Jules tells her.
She’s never wanted to live here since she left at eighteen. I’m not sure she’d ever sell the house because it’s her only connection to family, but Juliet was always meant for bigger boundaries than Stowaway has to offer.
“In a bad way?” Lou sounds concerned.
“Fuck no. I mean in the best way possible,” she says, reaching her hand across me to squeeze Lou’s. “You look good here. Natural and right.”
“Where did you grow up?” I ask her, hoping she might be more relaxed and open with a friend here.
“Little Rock. Born in the Bible belt to a devout mother and a father who bowed to her every command.”
“And I thought it was a slow Saturday night growing up here in Stowaway,” Juliet says.
It was a snail’s pace around here.
“We don’t take life too seriously in Stowaway, but seriously, there isn’t much life,” I say. “My dad always said that. He loved it here, though. I think he misses it, too. But it’s better for Mom in the city. She’s in remission after a year-long battle with breast cancer.”
“Remission is good,” Lou says.
“It is. You’ll get to meet her. She and Irma were best friends, they’re a lot alike,” I tell her. “Are your parents still in Little Rock?”
“They’ll never leave,” she says with a nod. “I’ll never go back. We’re not particularly close. Especially since my breakup.”
“Attack,” Juliet corrects.
“Attack,” Lou says, like it’s the first time her lips have ever formed the word.
I’ve seen it before; women struggling to confront what’s happened to them. It’s more normal than not, unfortunately. “Anyway, Arkansas isn’t something I miss. It was never meant to be my final resting place.”
“And Stowaway?” I pop a strawberry into my mouth, wondering if Lou would taste as sweet as the berry. She’s so close. I’m not sure how hormones or pheromones or any of that woo-woo bullshit works, but when she’s this near, it’s hard not to notice how beautiful she is. Or how she’d look in my bed. “Does it feel like a place you could drop anchor?”
“Drop anchor.” Juliet snorts. “You’re so old. She’s not a longshoreman.”
“You haven’t changed at all, Jules,” I tease. “You’re still a little shit.”
This sends her into a rant about poop and how she insists there’s nothing better than a good morning poop.
“The perfect morning is a lazy wakeup, pouring your coffee while you’re still in your pajamas, relaxing with a good book until the mug is empty and your bowels are active. Then, you can shit before you shower. Best mornings ever,” Lou agrees.
