If You Fall

Two

Bella texted me later to make sure I'd gotten home okay, and I made the mistake of letting slip that Reed was home. 

Immediately the phone rang and I swear I could hear my best friend's annoyance through the ringtone.

I sighed and answered, stepping out onto the porch while Reed shot me a knowing look. 

"The prodigal son returns, huh," she said sardonically. It was only four on a Saturday and her words were already slurring a little. She'd caught up quickly since I left. 

I couldn't judge. I had my own demons. We fought them however we could. "Stop," I told her half heartedly.

"What's it been this time, like half a year? Did you hear one thing the whole time he was gone?" I heard the telltale clink of the vodka bottle hitting the table. "That's bullshit, Heidi; to let someone worry about you for that long."

"I'm familiar with your theory." I also half agreed, but I knew Reed. I knew there was some reason he couldn't talk about where he went. If I questioned it maybe he wouldn't be allowed to return at all.

I shuddered to think.

I did have a phone number I could call in the event of an emergency. I'd never had cause to use it.

"Probably married with kids," she muttered. "To like six different people."

"What are you up to?" I changed the subject.

She made a rude noise. "Don't change the subject. How long's he here for this time?"

I picked at green paint on my arm and noticed there was some in my hair too. "A week, he thinks." Only a week. It fucking killed me.

"Then off for another year while you just sit and wait and cry into your Honey Nut Cheerios," she declared, definitely slurring. I heard the flick of a lighter and her inhale. "Till one day he just never comes back and you wait forever and die of a broken heart all old and wrinkled and sad. With thirty cats."

"Okay, well, it was good to talk to you, Bells," I said pointedly.

Now she sighed. "I just want you to love someone normal, who's the right person," she said, and I knew she meant well.

"Right, like we'd know normal if it bit us in the ass," I said skeptically.

"He probably works for the Russian mafia."

"He's French Polynesian. And supposedly Egyptian."

"One of their mafias then."

I had to smile a little. "I'm seriously covered in paint. I'm gonna go finish this picture."

"Sure, if that's what you kids are calling it these days, awesome." Another clink, another inhale as she toked her pipe. "Be careful."

Says my best friend, who drinks and then drives to the liquor store and then returns home to drink some more. Every night.

"You too," I just said, because we didn't talk much about her drinking. There wasn't much to say. "Love you."

"Love you too. Make him tell you." She hung up.

Reed was asleep when I went back in, upright on the couch and leaning against the armrest with his feet stretched out, his chin on his chest. I took the laptop before it could fall and checked what page he was on. Almost to the end of what I had written. We'd stayed up until three talking, and I sat down on the loveseat for a moment to rest my own eyes.

When I woke up it was dark and my house smelled like an Italian restaurant. My stomach growled. I went to the bathroom, washed my smeared makeup off, and arranged my hair so it mostly covered the scarred side of my face. Then I followed my nose to the kitchen.