“Hey,” he said. “That was meant to be sexy, that sacrifice I made for you there.”
She brushed back his curly hair. “Do you know—”
Walter kissed away her tears.
“I would kill for you,” Leigh said, with a full understanding of exactly what that would entail. “You mean everything to me.”
“But you wouldn’t really—”
“No.” She cupped his face in her hands. “I would do anything for you, Walter. I mean it. If you want to go to Atlanta, then I’ll find a way to live in Atlanta.”
“I’ve gone off the idea, actually.” He smiled. “Atlanta can get pretty hot.”
“You can’t—”
“What about California?” he asked. “Or Oregon? I hear Portland is crazy.”
She kissed him to shut him up. His mouth felt so good. She had never met a man who knew how to take his time getting a kiss right. Her hands moved down, unbuttoning his shirt. His skin was sweaty. She tasted salt on his chest.
Then some fucking idiot started banging their fist on the door.
Leigh startled, hand to her heart. “What time is it?”
“It’s only eight thirty, Grandmother.” Walter slid out from under her. He buttoned his clothes as he walked to the door. Leigh watched him press his eye to the peephole. He glanced back at her.
“Who is it?”
Walter swung open the door.
Callie stood in the hallway. She was dressed in the usual pastel and cartoon offerings from the kids’ rack at Goodwill because even the petite adult sizes didn’t fit her. Her Piglet’s Big Movie T-shirt was long-sleeved, even in the heat. Her baggy jeans had tears at both knees. She was carrying a stuffed pillowcase under her arm. Her body listed to the side, balancing out the cardboard cat carrier she gripped by the handles.
Leigh heard a mewing sound through the airholes in the sides.
Callie said, “Good evening, friends.”
“Long time,” Walter said, with absolutely no indication that the last time he’d seen Callie, she was vomiting down the back of his shirt as he carried her into rehab.
“Callie.” Leigh stood up from the couch. She felt stunned, because Callie never left the ten square miles around Phil’s house. “What are you doing in Chicago?”
“Everybody deserves a vacation.” Callie’s body bobbed back and forth as she walked in with the heavy carrier. She gently placed it on the floor by the couch. She dropped her pillowcase beside it. She looked around. “Nice digs.”
Leigh still needed an answer. “How did you find my address?”
“You sent me a Christmas card at Phil’s house.”
Leigh muttered a curse under her breath. Walter was the card-sender. He must’ve gone through her address book. “Have you been living with Phil?”
“What is life, Harleigh, if not a series of rhetorical questions?”
“Callie,” Leigh said. “Tell me why you’re here.”
“I thought I’d see what the big deal is about the ol’ Windy City. I have to say, I do not recommend the bus stops. Junkies are everywhere.”
“Callie, please—”
“I got sober,” Callie said.
Leigh was speechless. She had longed to hear those words come from her sister’s mouth. She let herself look at Callie’s face. Her cheeks were full. She had always been small, but Leigh could no longer see the bones under her skin. She actually looked healthy.
Callie said, “Almost eight months. How about that?”
Leigh hated herself for feeling hopeful. “How long will it last?”
“Let history be your guide.” Callie turned her back on the prospect of disappointment. She walked around their tiny apartment, a bull in a china shop. “This is a nice spread. How much do you guys pay for rent? I bet it’s a million bucks a month. Is it a million bucks?”
Walter took the question. “We pay half of that.”
“God damn, Walter. That is a fucking bargain.” She leaned down to the cat carrier. “Do you hear that, kitty? This fella knows how to strike a deal.”
Walter caught Leigh’s eye. He smiled, because he didn’t understand that Callie’s humor always came at a price.
“This looks fancy.” Callie was leaning over his laptop like a bird pecking down. “What’s this you’ve got going here, Walter? The fundamental disposition of blah-dee-blah-dee-blah. That sounds very smarty-pants.”
“It’s my final paper,” Walter said. “Half my grade.”