Page 90 of Back for Seconds

One moment it was there—and just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.

Lucky for me, I’d been halfway through filming a tutorial for making marzipan, so my shock, joy, confusion, and sadness were all caught on camera, available for me to rewatch into oblivion.

“Fuck, shit, fuck,” I cursed, fumbling to pause my recording. I fat-thumbed my way over to my missed calls.

There she was. Saved in my phone as Junebug 420.

Seven seconds ago, she’d called.

I weighed my options; there was no way it had been a butt dial. Those weren’t really a thing anymore.

She’d called me—maybe because she’d wanted to tell me something—and then lost her nerve.

Or maybe she’d called me, decided I was disgusting, on par with Nosferatu, and hung up.

I’d never know unless I asked.

Fuck it, I thought and tapped her name. I wasn’t going to just disappear from her life. We had, after all, made a promise to each other. More specifically, she had made me promise.

She picked up pretty quickly, after just a few rings.

“Joey.” She sounded shocked.

“Hey.” I cleared my throat. “You called me. Is everything alright?”

“I did…” Then, she sighed hard enough to make the phone line crackle. I could just imagine the way she was staring into the distance, eyes flitting back and forth as she did one of her little mental calculations. “I did but then I hung up. Because I needed something and then I realized it’s probably better not to bother you, right? Because you’re…well, we—both of us—are trying to just… I don’t know, I just thought it was a really bad look, to call you because I needed something. I always need something. I’m such a damn baby—baby June! Fuck, man—”

I was grinning. I hadn’t heard her do a nervous ramble in far too many days. The last time had probably been in her kitchen over that tray of world-realigning blondies. I loved the rambles; it was like she was opening up her head and letting me rifle through her brain, like it was a junk drawer.

“—and worst of all, this was my idea. I’m such a mooch—”

“June?” I said, just loud enough to cut her off.

“I’m rambling. Again. Sorry.”

“You are—which is fine, but I’m, uh, a little confused.”

“Right.” She cleared her throat. “My dryer isn’t working. It started kind of smoking yesterday, and my whole house smelled like dryer sheets. I was wondering if you knew anyone who could come take a look at it?”

“It was smoking? Yesterday?” I was already pulling my apron off, rounding my kitchen island and making a beeline for the front door. “Why didn’t you call me yesterday?”

“Because,” she whined. “Because I’m trying to be my own person, and you’re too nice for your own good!”

“Ok, well, when an electric appliance is smoking, it may not be the time to worry about other people’s feelings.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk.”

“What have I done?” I shoved on my sneakers, grabbed my coat, and made my way out the door in just a few quick strides

“You’re always worrying about other people. It’s all you do. Know what? Forget it. Back to the dryer—”

“I’m on my way,” I said, getting into my car, switching the phone from one ear to the other.

“On your way? To where?!”

“You heard me, Junebug.” I knew she could hear the smile in my voice. “See you in fifteen.” And before she could protest, I hung up.

***