“Oh, let’s skip all the small talk!” Florence interrupted. “It’s dull. Call me Cleopatra! Call me Queen Elizabeth!”
Nick, Whitney, and Amy all looked at her with unconcealed concern. No one said anything. At last Nick broke the silence.
“You okay, babe?” he asked, leaning in close.
“I’m fine, babe! It’s a party! Drink up!” She gestured at their drinks with her beer can and took another sip of warm beer. The rest of them dutifully raised their cups.
Whitney grimaced. Florence hoped it was vodka, not the taste of the pills. But Whitney just said, “Florence, I’ve never seen you like this!”
“It’s been a long time, Whit. I’m a whole new woman.”
“Apparently.”
Florence lowered her voice and leaned in. “Actually, do you think I can talk to you in private for a sec?”
“Um…sure.” Whitney glanced at Amy. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Don’t worry, Whit, I like vodka waaay more than I like you.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Florence pulled Whitney into Nick’s bedroom and closed the door. She eyed the mattress that she and Nick had shared the night before. It looked even more gruesome with the lights on. She sat on it anyway and patted the space next to her. Whitney crouched down awkwardly.
Florence was dreading this conversation, but she had decided she had no choice. She’d determined that she would need to keep Whitney away from the group for at least ten minutes to let the painkillers kick in. She wanted Whitney to be fairly incapacitated by the time she left the room.
“So, I know I said earlier that I didn’t care that you were dating Trevor, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it all afternoon. And actually I’m really upset.”
Whitney covered her face and shook her head. “I knew it.”
Florence bit the inside of her cheek and fought the dueling impulses to laugh in Whitney’s face or to slap it. Trevor had always smelled like Totino’s pizza rolls. He had cried when he took her virginity; not a tear or two, but great, big, heaving sobs. He’d told her that majoring in English would be a “a total waste.” No, she had not spent the last eight years pining for Trevor Gilpin.
“Can you tell me how it happened?” Florence prodded.
Whitney took a sip of her drink. “Well, he works at Verizon too, did you know that?”
“I think my mother mentioned it.”
“He’s a systems engineer.” Whitney looked up to see how that had landed.
“Okay.” Florence didn’t know what a systems engineer was and she didn’t particularly want to find out.
“It’s a super competitive field.”
“I’m sure.”
Whitney nodded and took another sip. She proceeded to recount the story of their relationship: The run-in at the on-site fitness center. How much they had in common. How they were thinking of adopting a cat together.
Florence hated cats.
“I’m so sorry,” Whitney concluded. “I broke the number one rule of friendship.”
Florence suspected that she was the one who’d broken the number one rule of friendship, by unilaterally ending said friendship, but she stayed silent. She rubbed at her eyes and wrinkled her forehead and looked out the window.
“Oh my god, I’m the worst,” Whitney said. “What can I do to fix this?” She was chewing on the rim of her cup. Florence peeked inside—half-empty.
“Are you going to marry him?” Florence asked, for lack of any other ideas for continuing the conversation.
Whitney’s large mouth twitched. She was trying not to smile, Florence realized. “I don’t know,” she said. “I hope so? I’m sorry, is that awful to say?”
Florence didn’t know how much longer she could stand this.
“You know what? I’m happy for you guys. Truly. Let’s toast to you and Trevor.”
“Really?”
“Of course, we’re all adults now.”
Florence raised her beer and tapped it to Whitney’s cup. Whitney took another sip. Florence waved her hand to tell Whitney to keep drinking. “Now this is a celebration! Drink, drink!”
Whitney took a giant gulp, then laughed and spluttered. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“You’re a good friend, Florence.” Whitney’s speech had taken on a sludge-like quality. Florence came out sounding like Florsch.
“Speaking of friends,” Florence said brightly, “Amy must be wondering what I’ve done with you. Let’s go back out there.”
Whitney stumbled a little when she got to her feet. Florence steadied her and asked, “You good?”
“Fiiiine, fiiiiiine.”
Florence pried the drink from Whitney’s fingers. “Here, let me take that. I think we’re done with this.” She poured the rest of the drink out the window, then looked in the empty cup. Some of the powder had congealed into a white sludge at the bottom. She chucked the whole thing out the window. She led Whitney back into the living room, holding her by the hand. Nick and Amy weren’t there. She found them in the kitchen laughing by the sink.
“Hey,” Amy said brightly, then her smile fell when she saw Whitney’s slack-eyed expression. “Whoa, you okay, Whit?”
“Oh, fiiiiine.”
Amy turned a questioning gaze at Florence.
“She downed her drink in like one gulp,” Florence said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made them so strong.”
Amy took Whitney’s hand and looked her closely in the eyes. “Whit?”
Whitney’s eyes struggled to focus on her friend. She smiled, but couldn’t maintain the tension in her lips, and they collapsed into a limp gape.
“Okay,” Amy said. “Apparently we’re going to call it a night after what has apparently been a very wild ten minutes. Quick work, Whit.” She turned to Nick and said, “Sorry, do you mind calling us a taxi? I don’t have an international phone plan.”
Nick took out his phone. “Of course.”
“We’re staying at Riad Lotus.” She turned to Florence. “I’m so sorry, she’s not usually like this.”
“Oh, we’re all allowed to lose ourselves on vacation,” said Florence.
“Five minutes,” Nick said, putting his phone back in his pocket.
All three of them helped corral Whitney down the stairs and into the back of the car. She lay her head on Amy’s lap. Amy stroked her hair gently and apologized again to Florence.
“It’s totally fine. It happens to the best of us.”
“You’re so sweet, both of you. Thank you again.”
As they drove off, Nick put his arm around Florence’s shoulder and pulled her close.
*
Later that night, Florence lay nestled in the crook of Nick’s arm as he rubbed her back slowly up and down.
“Can I ask you something?” he said quietly.
“Mmm.”
“Amy kept calling you Florence.”
She opened her eyes.
“And she seemed kind of confused when I referred to you as Helen.”
Neither of them spoke for a few moments. She noticed that Nick had stopped rubbing her back.