Page 27 of In Somnis

Nora’s eyes soften as she gives me a gentle smile. “That is so nice of you. She’ll be so happy to see you.”

“Hopefully,” I laugh, but it’s wobbly. “I should’ve come sooner. It’s been way too long, for sure, but…” I trail off, because what am I supposed to say?

I haven’t found the time to visit in over a decade, but now my life has imploded, my mom died, my boyfriend turned out to be a coward, and I ran away to the middle of nowhere.

I kept telling myself I’d come visit when life settled down as if life had ever once done me that favor.

First, it was grief, then it was money, then work, then my mother, and after enough years, the shame of not coming got so big it started masquerading as logistics. But I sent cards. And left voicemails for Tessa, Nora said she listens to from time to time. I called Nora on holidays and sent flowers on their birthdays.

I told myself the dreams with her were the only thing I deserved after neglecting the only real true friend I’ve ever had.

Nora reaches out and squeezes my arm. “You’re here now, and I’m so glad you are.”

We start up the grand staircase, and no matter how much I try to soften my steps, my boots click too loudly on the wood.

“So what brings you to Oregon? Working somewhere close?”

“I’m just… here to see Tessa.” It’s the truth, but it feels like the tiniest sliver of it.

At the top of the stairs, Nora turns and studies me.

Ah, damn.

“Lennon, are you okay?”

My hands slide into the pockets of my skirt, and I dig my fixed thumbnail into the side of my index finger until it stings.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I chirp, plastering on the brightest smile I can muster, but it probably looks deranged.

Nora tilts her head, and I’m sure she’s going to call me out on it, but then she turns and keeps walking down the hallway. “Tessa’s in her room, we’ve been getting ready for the morning tea,” she says over her shoulder. “I was going to drink it with her in the sunroom, but you girls can talk in her room if you want more privacy.”

“That sounds nice,” I agree, and when she glances back, I make sure to smile for real this time.

We stop in front of the familiar white door, but instead of reaching for the handle, she turns and grabs my hand, squeezing once.

“We’ve made some great improvements over the last few years, thanks to her psychologist. He’s the best we’ve had yet. I’m a big fan of his work. He’ll be here in about thirty minutes for their daily session.”

“That’s… nice to hear. I’ll make sure I leave before he arrives.”

“You can stay if you want.” She squeezes again, softer. “And if you ever want to talk to someone, I can give you his number?” Before I can think of a response, she lets go of my hand and gives me another one of her gentle, sad smiles. “Just an offer, honey.”

Nora opens the door, and the first thing that hits me is how big the room feels. It wasn’t this big when we were in our early twenties, or maybe it was, but back then, it was cluttered with Tessa’s mess, consisting of clothes, textbooks, color-coded sticky notes everywhere, her cocoa butter, and nail-polish-scented chaos. There was a stack of journals on the nightstand, always, because she wrote the way other people breathed.

Now, it’s neat. Too neat.

The bed is perfectly made, the shelves are lined with books, but not stacked in messy little towers how Tessa used to have them.

The journals are gone from the nightstand, replaced with a tidiness that would be foreign to Tessa. Every surface is clean, every pillow is straight. It looks like a room waiting for someone to come back to, and something about that is the saddest thing I’ve seen since the hospital.

Nora steps toward two reading chairs by the big window, which are angled so we can only see the back of them, and I follow on autopilot. Leaves outside are swirling in the wind, a burst of color.

“Tessa, honey,” Nora says softly and reaches toward one of the chairs. “Lennon is here to visit you. She came all the way from Boston to see you. Can you believe that?”

Nora steps back to make room for me, and there she is, my best friend, slumped back in the chair, eyes pointed toward the window but not really seeing.

She looks the same. Same brown hair, just a little longer now. Though she’s thinner and paler, she’s still beautiful, still my Tessa, yet… not.

Not the Tessa who once talked me down from a panic attack in a bathroom stall before a practical exam, both of us sitting on the cold tile floor, her eating a granola bar and telling me I was going to pass because the universe owed us one. This is not my Tessa, who cried at every wedding scene in every film, regardless of whether she liked the film.