Maya didn’t know what to say. What could she say?
“I know she’s not real. Probably.”
“Very probably,” Maya said.
“Possibly probably.”
“Possibly probably she just made a lucky guess that one time.”
Hannah sighed. “I know,” she said. “I know that’s probably true.” She plopped down on the grass and wept anew. “I was just desperate. I am desperate.”
Maya sat beside her, put an arm around her shoulder. The world spun and twinkled and bustled around them.
“I wanted so badly to believe,” Hannah said.
“I know.”
“And instead everything went wrong. Total disaster. Just like I always fear.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say disaster, but...”
Hannah laughed through her tears. “I tried, right? I came all the way back.” She looked pleadingly at Maya.
“You did.”
“And I’m fine. It didn’t kill me. I guess that’s something.”
“You are fine.”
“It’s just that for once I didn’t worry if I was making the wrong decision or that something terrible would happen. I was so sure it was meant to be...that my brain stopped arguing itself. It was such a relief.” She wiped her eyes, her body shuddering. “Sort of like how we weren’t scared on the ski slope because we were stoned.”
Maya nodded, trying to understand.
Hannah hugged her knees. “Ugh, life is so hard sometimes.”
“Yep,” Maya said. “Sometimes it is.”
“I don’t know...maybe...even though I didn’t get an actual answer, I did lose the questions, and that’s something. I was out of my head and in the world. For a little while anyway. It always seemed like I couldn’t really move...like in my life...without the answer first. But I did a little. Which I guess means I can again.”
“And you’re here with me,” Maya said.
“And I’m here with you.”
Maya smiled.
“Thanks,” Hannah said. “Good talk.”
“Yeah?”
“I mean, not as good as a psychic, but whatever.”
Maya laughed. Then she gave Hannah a mischievous look. “Come on, let’s go crash Blue’s date.”
BLUE
Blue showered until the water ran cold, then got out and went to her bed, where she’d carefully laid out the outfit she would wear—the off-the-shoulder yellow blouse Maya had insisted she borrow, the necklace, the white capri pants, the fancy underwear. It looked so much like hope lying there that she threw it all on as quickly as she could to escape the embarrassment of seeing her wishes laid out so barely. She went to the mirror, turned one way and then the other, trying to be objective. She could stare and stare and stare and still not know what she looked like. Not really. The words that came to mind were not her own. She knew that. But when she looked in the mirror, that’s what she saw. She saw the memory of hatred, swallowed and then regurgitated by the voice in her head. But knowing that didn’t help.
She needed a countervoice.
She went downstairs. Renee was in the kitchen, her back turned. She had a different dress on, presumably borrowed from Maya based on the way it hung on her. Renee had belted it, wore it with a stylish slouch, managed to look perfect and enviable.
She turned. “Hey.” She held up a framed photo she’d been looking at. “Look at this.”
In it fourteen-year-old Blue and Renee were lying at opposite ends of the hammock, their sun-bronzed legs tangled in the middle, each of them engrossed in a book. Blue was smiling as if she sensed Nana was taking the picture, a strip of sunburn across her nose and cheeks. They both looked so happy.
“That’s exactly how I remember you,” Renee said, handing it to her.
Blue barely glanced at it. She didn’t need to see the girl she’d been blinking up at her from the photo, surprised to see the kind of person she’d grown up to be. She put the picture on the table, held her arms out stiffly. “Do I look okay?”
It seemed demeaning and pathetic to need Renee in this moment. But not having input was worse. She couldn’t trust herself to have objectivity or even know what would be appropriate to wear. She had to focus on the night at hand. It was bigger than her grudge. It was too big, in fact. Her one shot at love.
Renee looked her over.
“Never mind,” Blue said, before Renee could answer. “I give up.” She started back toward the stairs.
“What are you talking about? Blue, you look...amazing!”
Blue turned. “Oh, please,” she said. It was exactly what she wanted to hear. And exactly what she couldn’t believe. Besides, she still didn’t want Renee to think her opinion mattered. Just because Renee was being nice didn’t fix everything. She marched over to the fridge. Fished a wine cooler out. Uncapped it and gulped some down. “Disgusting.” She held one out to Renee.
“Sounds tempting, but I’ll pass.”
Blue shrugged. “More for me.” She sat at the kitchen table. “Let me guess—Mr. Perfect doesn’t drink.”
She saw Renee tense.
“Actually, he does.” Renee turned and began wiping down the already clean counter. “And so do I. I just...can’t right now.” She paused. “Because I think... I mean, I know... I’m pregnant.”
Blue froze.
Renee turned, watched her face.
“Wow,” Blue said, averting her eyes. She took another huge gulp, tipped the bottle in a half-hearted cheer. “Congrats.”
Renee came and sat across from her. “I started getting morning sickness—as you saw—and I’d noticed my nipples were browning. So I took a test last week. And well...”
There was an eager searching in Renee’s eyes. Something she wanted.
“It’s actually why I came. Here, I mean. To see you guys. The minute I saw that test...I just...wanted to talk to someone. I called my mother. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? It’s like an instinct. So automatic I still forget how pointless it is. I mean, she was nice about it, I guess. In her own way. But you know. It’s like her being nice to me now is sort of too late. It didn’t mean anything to tell her. And then I knew who it would mean something to tell. And I wished I could call you. It made me realize how fast time is passing. Like we were just teenagers. And now I’m going to be a mom and—”