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She wasn’t wrong.
“Girls!” we heard Kitty Sue call from inside the house, luckily saving me from the gushy conversation.
“We’re out here!” I yelled.
Kitty Sue opened the door and stuck her head out. “Come inside. I only have a minute and I have to do this now.”
Then she was gone.
Ally and I looked at each other. Kitty Sue was using her Mom No-Backtalk Voice, and with years of experience we both knew better than to argue.
Kitty Sue’s arrival was a surprise.
“Do you know what this is about?” I asked Ally.
She shook her head.
We got up and wrapped sarongs around our waists. We grabbed the phone, our drinks and the egg timer and went into the house.
Kitty Sue was standing in the living room.
“What are you drinking?” she asked Ally when Ally had rounded the stairs.
“Rum and diet,” Ally answered.
Kitty Sue yanked the glass out of her hand and downed it in two gulps.
Ally and I stared at her while she did this then turned our heads to look at each other.
“What’s wrong?” I asked Kitty Sue because I knew something was wrong. Kitty Sue was no teetotaler, but she wasn’t one to chug, especially not rum. I’d only seen her chug once, during an out of control, marathon game of Scattergories one Christmas Eve, and she’d not been able to think of an “S” word for the food category. That was so lame, we made her chug a beer as penance.
Good times.
“I’m not good at this,” Kitty Sue answered me, breaking into my trip down memory lane.
“At what?” Ally asked.
“Being…doing…I don’t know. Girls, sit down.”
Ally and I exchanged another glance, then we sat.
That’s when I noticed a small wooden chest. It had hearts and flowers painted on it, and some fading glitter stuck to it as well as some old stickers. It was sitting on the ottoman between my couch and armchairs.
“What’s that?” I asked, putting my drink and the phone on the floor beside me.
Kitty Sue plonked down on my couch opposite us and put her empty glass on the ottoman beside the chest. “It’s a Best Friend Box.”
My breath left my lungs.
“What?” Ally asked quietly.
“It’s Katie and my Best Friend Box. We put all our most precious stuff in there.”
I stared at the box.
That was my mom’s box.
Oh my God.
