“Did you need something?” I showed them where the thermostat was in case it got stuffy and left enough towels for everyone to shower. My brain cycles trying to figure out what I must have forgotten.
“No, I’m just checking on you. You’ve been taking care of your mom and sister all day. I wanted to make sure someone was taking care of you.” She hovers in the doorway. “So, uh, how are you feeling?”
“I don’t think it’s sunk in yet.” I pull back the blankets on the bed, an invitation. She crosses the room without hesitation and climbs in. Strands of her still-damp hair tickle my arm as she finds a comfortable position. We automatically arrange ourselves face-to-face, the way we’ve done so many times before in her bed at Orchard Street.
“How did it feel to see your mom again?”
“It feels weird. Like, is this forever or a weekend pass? We haven’t talked about anything except logistics. Honestly, I’m more relieved to be speaking to you again than her.”
Hannah touches my arm tentatively. “I’m sorry, you know. I didn’t mean any of it, I only said those things because I was angry.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m sorry, too. We never should have let it go on so long.”
Ironically, when I heard my father was dead, I didn’t have regrets about what was left unsaid between us. Fuck him. I’m here for my mother and for Amanda. Sure, I was shocked by the news, but the leaden feeling in my stomach was for Hannah. What if something happened to her and we never got to make up? She at least tried to reach out; I remember her text in the spring that I left on read. How could I have been so cavalier, wasting a year not speaking, assuming there was an endless string of years ahead to make things right? How could I have taken one of the most special relationships in my life for granted? She was the who donned the mantle of loving me when the people who raised me weren’t up to the job.
“We don’t have to talk about our fight right now if you don’t want to. You have enough going on,” she offers. We lie in silence for a minute, and it feels more comfortable than awkward.
“Can I admit something embarrassing?” she asks out of nowhere.
“Always.”
“Every time I had something to tell you and I went to call you and realized I couldn’t, I recorded a voice memo to you on my phone instead.”
“Oh my god.” A laugh bubbles up in my throat.
“I know, it’s so dorky.”
“That’s not why I’m laughing. I’m laughing because I started a journal where I wrote down everything I wanted to tell you, but couldn’t because we were fighting. I went to McNally Jackson and got a new notebook especially for it.”
Now we’re both laughing. “Wow, we’re officially the biggest nerds on the planet,” she declares.
“I want to listen to those voice memos, you know?” I tell her. “I need to catch up on everything I missed.”
“Good, because I want to read that journal.”
“It’s going to be so embarrassing.”
“Don’t worry, I probably won’t be able to read most of it because your handwriting is atrocious.”
I swat her shoulder.
“Do you know David calls you my imaginary friend because I talk about you so much, but he’s never met you?”
“The infamous David—”
“He’s infamous?”
“To me he is. Or maybe mysterious is more like it. Priya put a moratorium on asking about him. She said I could talk to you if I wanted to know more.”
“She told me the same thing about you. She said I was annoying her with all my questions.” The bed shakes with our giggles. I’m awash in comfort knowing she felt my absence as acutely as I felt hers. I’d started to wonder if she put me out of her mind and moved on. Or if she didn’t need me anymore now that she was in a relationship.
“I can’t believe you went and got a boyfriend when we weren’t talking.” There were a smattering of hookups in college, and the occasional first or second date, but I’d never seen Hannah serious about a guy.
“I had a lot of extra time on my hands.”
“Oh, so are you going to dump him now that we’re talking again?”
“No!” she snaps defensively. Then her voice goes quiet, “He wants us to move in together. Things are kind of serious.” Her nose scrunches at her own earnestness.
“What? That’s huge.”
“It’s terrifying.”
“Will I like him?”
“Yeah, I think you will. He’s a good guy. He’s a lawyer. He hates most of my music—”
“Same,” I interrupt. She bats my hand away when I shove it in her face for a high five.
“He can cook, which is nice.” She pauses. “And I don’t know. I just . . . love him.” She covers her face with her hands like this is embarrassing to her.
Love, wow. I’ve never seen Hannah in love before, and I feel a pang of regret that I’ve missed so much change in her life. She sounds certain about him. If I’m honest, more certain than I feel about Jeremy after a year and a half together. It stings that Hannah, who was not speaking to me yesterday, is here, and Jeremy, whose bed I woke up in yesterday morning, is not.
But maybe I’m not all that surprised. My relationship with Jeremy was built on a foundation of relief. Relief to find someone who liked me back. Relief to not have to date anymore. Relief that I was no longer lagging behind on the life milestone checklist. And there was sexual compatibility, maybe even passion, but the passion never flourished into need. Not the same way I need Hannah or Theo. I can’t imagine buying a journal to write down everything I wanted to tell Jeremy if he was away on a long trip with no cell phone service. That’s probably not a great sign.
“Maybe we can go on a double date before I dump Jeremy,” I suggest.
“Oh yeah, we didn’t even talk about that. He was the worst yesterday.”
I wince at her words, embarrassed that my boyfriend chose his sea plants over me.
“What a cop-out!” Hannah goes on. “You deserve better, you know. You deserve everything.” Her hand finds mine in between us.
“Yeah . . .” I trail off, letting her think I’m dumping him because of yesterday and not because she was right about what she said when we fought: I don’t love him, and I’m not sure I ever did.
After that we go silent, Hannah makes no move to leave, and I don’t try to make her. A few minutes later her breathing slows. Even more than I relish being welcomed back into my childhood home and the nostalgic comfort of this room I grew up in, my true source of comfort is Hannah. The person that has stood by my side and witnessed my life when my biological family wouldn’t. And even though I didn’t think I could sleep, with her here, my eyes flutter closed, too.
twenty-one
Hannah
This year, December 25
“You sure you want to go to the hospital, lady? It’s a zoo over there today,” the barely legal paramedic teases Priya in a thick Long Island accent, like on second thought she might prefer to self-treat her leg, which is bent at an unnatural angle, with essential oils and prayer.