I smile widely. “It’s Lauren.” I giggle.
“Lauren! I’m coming right down.”
I can’t help but laugh; her excitement is contagious. A few moments later, the front door swings open, and she almost knocks me on the floor with her hug.
“I can’t believe you’re here. Oh my God!” she shouts in my ear as I try to keep my balance.
“Yeah, I’m here.” Somehow, I don’t feel as though I’m matching her energy.
“I thought you were lying about coming. You always say you’re coming then call with an excuse.” She laughs at me, taking my bag.
“Well, not this time.” I sigh.
“Come on,” she says, leading me up the stairs.
I take in the building. The white walls, wooden floors, and windows letting the sun pour through them remind me of my apartment in college.
“These stairs have made me lose at least five pounds.” She laughs as we round another flight. By the time we make it to her apartment, she’s huffing and muttering under her breath, “I hate living on the third floor.” Putting her hand on the doorknob, she announces, “This is it!”
She leads me in, shutting the door behind us. “It’s kind of small, but I love the neighborhood. It’s always quiet since there’s a hospital up the street. They have this quiet zone thing.”
I smile as I look around the small apartment and walk to the window. The sun’s seeping through, lighting the entire room. I close my eyes as it falls on my face and open them again when I hear her footsteps coming in my direction.
“So this is it. Like I said, it’s small, and you’ll have the couch,” she explains.
“The couch is fine,” I assure her.
She gives me another big smile. That’s one reason I love being around Angela—she always has a way of looking at things positively, and there have only been a few times I’ve seen her sad or mad at anything.
“I still can’t believe you’re here.” She laughs, linking arms with me. She leads me to the off-white sofa situated behind a wooden coffee table. “So how have things been going?”
I debate whether to tell her the truth with a fake smile or just pour out all my problems to her. “Okay.” I sigh, deciding to go with the less time-consuming route.
She frowns at me. “Okay?” she asks sarcastically.
I nod and play with my fingertips.
She sighs. “Well, I know something’s wrong, but I’m not going to pester you, since I have a feeling you’re not going to tell me now.”
I giggle. She still knows me so well. Now it’s my turn to sigh. “Cal and I aren’t the best of friends right now.”
Her smile immediately softens. “Do you want to talk about it?”
This is why I love Angie; any other person would just dive into the questions without considering how I felt about it.
“Not really. Right now, I’m so tired I just want to sleep,” I tell her.
“Of course! Well, I have class in, like, thirty, so you’re more than welcome to crash in my bed to get some rest,” she offers.
“Oh no, this is fine.” I gesture to the couch.
“Are you sure?”
“I just spent the last half hour in a cramped cab; this is a vast improvement.” I laugh.
She stands. “Well, let me go get you some sheets and pillows.”
She disappears for a moment and comes back with a crisp pink sheet and pillow. She sets them next to me.
“Thanks,” I say gratefully. “I see you’re still into pink.” I giggle.
“Look who’s talking.” She nudges me playfully, referring to my stint of wearing various shades of pink for at least a year. I needed something to brighten up my then-dull life, and it seemed like a good idea at the time. “So my class is over in three hours, and after that, I’m going to head to the library for maybe an hour or two. When I come back, you be all rested up so we can do the girl-talk thing and order some takeout, okay?” She grabs a brush and quickly runs it through her hair.
“That sounds good,” I tell her, slipping out of my tennis shoes.
“Lauren, how old are those?” she squeals.
I cover my face in embarrassment. “They’re the only flats I have,” I admit, and we both break into a fit of laughter.
“Wow. Anyhow, there’s some leftover pizza in the fridge, which you’re welcome to, though I wouldn’t recommend it. Pepsi is all I have to drink—I’ve become addicted—and if you want to take a shower, turn it on ten minutes before. It takes forever to heat up, believe me,” she explains, grabbing her backpack off the table in the kitchen. “The bathroom is back there next to my room. I don’t have to show you the kitchen, and yeah—” She gestures quickly. “I feel so bad about leaving you here alone when you just got here. I feel like I should be showing you around or something.”
“Ang, it’s not like I’m a tourist; you don’t have to show me around. And I did kind of call you on short notice. I’ll be fine,” I reassure her.
“I know. I still feel really bad, but I’ll have to do that later.” She laughs, grabbing her keys off the table. “If I miss the bus, I’m virtually screwed,” she says, rushing to the door. “Like I said, mi casa, su casa.”
She exits, and I hear the lock click on the door. I look around the cozy little apartment, remembering the days when Hillary and I roomed together. How tiny our apartment was, but how warm it felt. That’s exactly what’s missing from my own home—warmth and happiness. I search for a phone, hoping she has one, and spot a cordless on the kitchen table. I dial Raven’s number.
“Raven, it’s me. I’ve made it safely. I just got here a few minutes ago and just wanted to let you know. I’m really tired, so I’ll call you again tonight. Love you,” I say and hang up.
I crawl back onto the sofa and spread the sheet over my head. There aren’t any lights on, but the sun is filling the apartment. My eyes are so heavy they feel like bricks. At last, I let them close.
“Lauren, Lauren.”
I open my eyes to see Angie standing over me. “Hey,” I say, starting to wake up.
“You’ve been sleep this entire time?” she asks, turning on a lamp beside us.
My eyes adjust to it; the sun has completely set.
“I guess so,” I tell her groggily, sitting up.
“Are you feeling okay?” she asks worriedly.
“Yeah, I’ve just been really tired,” I tell her.
She feels my head. “You’re warm. Do you feel sick?”
“No, I feel fine. I just haven’t been getting much sleep,” I lie. I’ve been getting tons. It seems as if all I’ve done is sleep—or cry.
“Are you sure?” she asks skeptically.
“I’m completely fine,” I assure her. The last thing I need is another person worrying about me; that’s the reason I left Raven’s house.
“Okay, well, I picked up some Chinese on the way home. I thought you would have been up by now.” She giggles, grabbing a remote. The stereo comes on. “We need some life in this house.”