Blue stared at her. They all did.
“I didn’t know that,” Blue said. “Obviously.”
“That bastard,” Maya added. She sat down beside them and sighed. “Since we’re playing whose life is worse, I’m losing my house because I sort of forgot to pay the property taxes and I can’t get a loan because I’ve blown my credit so bad, and on top of that, I don’t feel like I have you guys either.”
“Wait. What?” Blue said.
Maya squeezed her eyes shut against whatever Blue was going to say next.
“I’m going to kill you,” Blue said.
“Please do,” Maya said. “And just to be clear, I know you’re not going to give me a loan, so don’t worry, I’m not asking.”
They all turned to Hannah.
“I feel pretty good,” she said.
HANNAH
A damp mist was settling over the night, wisps of fog slipping off the bay like souls. Cars pulled in and out of the lot, passing treacherously close to them.
“Let’s go home,” Hannah said. “We can talk about it all tomorrow.”
Blue flicked her lighter on and off. “I don’t feel so hot,” she said. “I might’ve had one too many.”
“I know that feeling,” Maya said. “Only with Cheetos.”
Hannah watched Blue take a last hopeful glance at the restaurant as if Jack might return, saw a dark, sober anguish flash across her face. Poor Blue, she thought. Regret is such a tireless wound.
“You okay?” Hannah said. “Maybe tomorrow you could send him a text. I bet he’d understand if you apologized.”
“Maybe,” Blue said, though Hannah could tell she didn’t mean it.
They climbed into the car and Maya pulled out of the lot.
The fog was so thick now, rising smoky from the street like the exhale of a winter breath. They pulled over twice to let Blue puke and eventually rolled up to the house and filed out. Blue went straight upstairs and was passed out within minutes. Hannah put an empty bucket on the floor beside Blue’s bed, a glass of water on her nightstand. As the others got ready for sleep, she lingered in the darkness of Blue’s room.
She wanted to say something about fear and regret. About forgiving yourself for making mistakes born of trauma. About how the more broken you’d been, the more things you were likely to break, like a computer rewired to self-destruction. She wanted to tell Blue it only made it worse to turn on yourself about it, to be without self-compassion. But what were words? She knew they would never reach the place where it mattered. She pulled the blanket over the now snoring Blue. “You went,” she whispered. “Remember that. At least you went to see him. And that was very brave.” She nodded to herself. Knew that even if Blue could hear her, it wouldn’t comfort her, that she wouldn’t be able to see this night as anything but a catastrophe. It was always easier to see small successes when they belonged to someone else.
Hannah moved back into the room she shared with Maya, climbed under the covers and stared into the swell of darkness. She wondered what it would be like to go on a date again, if it was as daunting as it seemed. Not that she’d ever go on one. She just wondered.
* * *
In the morning she heard Blue tiptoe in and then bang her knee on the edge of the bed. “Ow!” Blue hissed.
Hannah sat up.
“Sorry!” Blue said. “I was just seeing if you were awake.” Her shoulders were drooped, her expression like a basset hound. “I’m so humiliated.”
Maya stirred, sat up yawning. “What time is it?” She looked between Hannah and Blue.
“I’m having flashbacks of what an asshole I was to Jack,” Blue groaned.
“Hey now,” Maya said. “Some girls play hard to get. You were playing hard to like. It’s just a twist.”
Hannah and Blue stared at her.
“I’m just saying maybe he likes the challenge,” Maya said. “Sheesh.”
“I think I’m going to throw up again,” Blue said suddenly, sprinting out of the room.
A moment later there was banging on the bathroom door. “Renee,” Blue said. “Open up, I’m gonna hurl.” A pause. “Are you puking in there?”
Hannah and Maya exchanged a look. They heard the thunder of feet down the stairs, the front door flinging open, Blue running out. The guttural bleat of retching coming from both inside the house and outside it.
“Is Blue...in the driveway?” Hannah asked.
“I don’t know, maybe the front lawn?” Maya said.
They listened more closely.
“Driveway,” Maya said. “You can hear it hitting the pebbles.”
Hannah gagged.
From the bathroom, a loud retch from Renee.
Maya turned to Hannah. “This reminds me of that time we ate that bad chicken and—”
“We don’t need to talk about that.”
Renee emerged from the bathroom and appeared in the doorway looking pale. “Pregnancy,” she said. “All of the hangover, none of the booze.”
Hannah patted the bed and Renee sat.
“So...” Maya said.
“So...” Renee said.
“You really are pregnant,” Hannah said.
“It would seem so,” Renee said with a sigh. Her eyes were glassy from vomiting or sadness or both.
“And that asshole is cheating on you,” Maya said. “I could’ve told you all Darrins are dirtbags.”
“You said they’re all good in bed,” Hannah pointed out.
“From all the cheating,” Maya said as if it was obvious. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Renee shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I wanted you guys to think I was...who I wished I was. Surprise! I’m a failure at everything.”
“Him being a cheat has nothing to do with you,” Hannah said.
“Part of me knows that,” Renee said. “The other part of me—the part of me that wants to fix it and stay with him, I guess—is unconvinced. I know that should be a no-brainer but...nothing ever feels that simple when you love someone. Pathetic, huh?”
“Very,” Maya said.
“Says the girl who’s losing her house,” Hannah pointed out.
“I like to think of it as giving the house to a bank in need,” Maya said.