“I’m sure Cara would be thrilled,” Kayla retorts, flicking a bra into a pile of dirty clothes. “Are you leaving today? Is that why you’re cleaning?”
“No, I’m cleaning because room service is coming.” I line up my shoes and nod happily. Now the room just looks like it harbors only a minor slob. “What are you doing here anyhow? Not that I mind since you just cleaned my room in two minutes flat.”
“You told me to come by this morning so that we can go to Erik and Juniper’s together,” Kayla laughs at my bewildered expression. “It’s 10am.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. “Well, fuck.”
“How drunk were you?” Without waiting for an answer she throws her head back and snickers. “My god, I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too. I’m glad I came back,” I say earnestly, interrupted by another knock.
“Should I return after your breakfast?” Kayla asks, as she straightens my toiletries on the vanity table. “We aren’t expected for another hour anyhow.”
“You should stay and eat with me. I ordered half the menu,” I unceremoniously throw the door open and am happy to see a sea of silver cloches, pushed by a cheery man who wheels in the feast.
I am pleased that his way is free of debris and tip him quickly as I beam at him, pretending I am a cleanly and upstanding hotel guest. Kayla shows him out and I start lifting the heavy silver to tempt Kayla into staying. She nods her approval and I start snapping pictures, before we sit and start eating.
“It seemed like you and Erik picked up right where you left off.” She remarks, stabbing a juicy strawberry with her elegant fork.
“The old feels were there, I can’t deny it,” I chew on some pumpkin pancakes and sigh. We’d danced with abandon and closed down the reunion and were all ultimately pleasantly surprised by our reception. My comment to Robyn felt like it had set the tone for the rest of the evening, which was one of strength and refusal to feel like an outcast, especially with my friends there.
As the night wore on we were approached by many who offered their support, and plenty who barely concealed just wanting to hear the story from our mouths. We politely skirted the issue and just basked in the acceptance, even if it was accessorized by curiosity. Plenty asked where Juniper was, and the simple answer was that she had been a grade below them, and this wouldn’t have been her reunion anyhow—though we all knew she would not be attending next year either.
“I’m so sorry we interrupted you,” Kayla unsurprisingly drinks her coffee unadorned with cream or sugar. “I think you were about to kiss.”
“It wasn’t the right time anyhow,” I tell her truthfully. “I’m here for nearly a week, and I hope to see him as much as possible and we will see where it goes.”
“Did you ever think this was a possibility?” Kayla says, cocoa eyes observing me over a buttered piece of toast she daintily bites, lipstick remaining inexplicably perfect and crumbless. She remains an enigmatic unicorn.
“No,” I tell her with a sigh. “I knew nothing about his current life or feelings for me. I thought he was married, hated me or both.”
“He was engaged,” Kayla informs me, the empathy in her tone preparing me for her next words. “I was told she died suddenly a few years back.”
My breath intakes audibly. “He alluded to another tragedy, besides Juniper and his parents.”
At Kayla’s questioning gaze I realize she hasn’t heard the news about Mr. and Mrs. Madison, and reluctantly fill her in. Her eyes register shock and flicker with grief as her toast thuds onto the plate below.
“My god, what they’ve been through,” Kayla says distraughtly. “It’s unbelievable.”
I look down at the ruins of food, my appetite has stolen from the room and I swallow heavily. “I suppose I should get ready, but I’m scared.”
“Me too, Kat,” Kayla admits, she is the very picture of dauntless and the admission is clearly thick on her tongue. “I don’t know what to expect and the thought of that house brings me back to thoughts and feelings I don’t care to revisit.”
I nod my agreement before rising from the table resolutely, striding over to the closet to shrug into a sleeveless, cerulean dress. Bending over to pull on some rich, mahogany boots I think about the fact that Juniper won’t be able to see me. I’m ashamed at the unreasonable reticence I have to see her face. I don’t know what to expect, what level of scarring upon her countenance. What lasting physical proof of that night is stamped on her?
I shake the thoughts out of my head and make small talk with Kayla as I throw on some basic makeup. I know Kayla loathes idle chatter, but the flow of words ease me, as though I can expel the anxiety through my mouth and I know Kayla realizes this and is humoring me.
Soon we are sitting in Kayla’s rental car and I somehow wish the house were both hours away and also right next door, a teetering between dread and just wanting to stop feeling torturous anticipation.
The reality is that we are a mere five minutes away. The house is the crowning jewel of history, sitting smack dab in the middle of the tree-lined main street which comprises most of the town. As we pull up Kayla throws the car in park and squeezes my hand reassuringly. We lock eyes before I swallow and look up. The cheery yellow paint on the mammoth Colonial house belies the dread that lives there for me. The red, brick chimney billows smoke as it always did, and the black shutters are impeccably kept up, likely because of Erik, who has always been fastidious and prideful in his family home. White and red oleander grow rampantly under all the windows, as they always have, bubbling up in splashes of
