Page 68 of Broken Butterfly
“Thanks for that,” I tell her.
Chelsea has the presence of mind to look sincerely apologetic. “Sorry. But holy mother of all that’s hot and sexy. You are in the inner circle of two of the hottest guys on campus.” Her phone dings. “Oh, crap! I was supposed to meet my boyfriend like ten minutes ago. See you in class?”
“You bet.”
“And we’re definitely having lunch together soon. Maybe a double date,” she calls as she rushes back to the elevators.
I walk down the long hall. Finding the room number that I’m looking for, I tentatively rap on the door. Several other dorm room doors are open and the sounds of talking and music filter into the hallway. I knock a little louder. Seconds later, it opens.
“I’m so freaking mad at you.” Meredith stands with her hands fisted against her hips like a pissed-off fairy. In the month since I last saw her, her hair has gotten longer.
“I know. I came to apologize. I brought you presents,” I add, holding out the bag of wrapped items I bought for her while in Europe and Australia.
She taps her foot, waiting.
“My memory returned.”
“Well, shit. Come in,” she huffs and backs up to allow me to enter. Before the door closes, she throws her arms around me. I’m seven inches taller than she is so it’s like hugging a little sister.
“I’ve missed you, Mer.”
“Apology accepted.”
My body trembles with laughter. “Just like that?”
Meredith shoves me over to her bed and pushes me down to sit. “Just like that. That’s what friends do. But you still owe me an explanation. And give me that bag.”
I hand it over. “That I do.”
“Did your memory really come back?” she asks while tearing into the wrapping paper of the first present.
“All of it. I have a lot to tell you.”
“Elizabeth, this is gorgeous!” she exclaims when she opens the box and sees the silver charm bracelet I got her.
“I picked out a charm for you at every place we stopped.” I show her. “An NYC for New York City, a snowflake for Iceland, a Union Jack for London, the Eiffel Tower for Paris, a windmill for Amsterdam, a flower for Barcelona, a gondola boat for Venice, and a kangaroo for Sydney.”
“I definitely forgive you now,” she says and clasps the bracelet on her wrist.
“But you said you already forgave me.”
“That was my metaphorical forgiveness. This is my literal forgiveness.”
“I missed you, Mer,” I tell her again. She leans over and hugs me again, and we both giggle.
“Selfie!” she says, taking out her phone. We press cheek-to-cheek for the picture, sticking our tongues out, and making devil horns with our hands. She shares the picture with my phone, then types out something I can’t see before putting her phone down.
Meredith walks over and grabs her hairbrush and some hair clips from her desk. “You know I’m not a keep-still-kind-of girl with my ADHD. Have to stay busy. So while you spill, I’m going to play with your hair. What happened to the pink?”
“It faded out. I’m thinking of maybe doing blue streaks next, or possibly green to match my eyes.”
She glides the brush down my hair. “I really liked the pink.”
“Pink it is.”
While Meredith twists and messes with my hair, I tell her everything. I don’t leave anything out. By the time my voice is tired from talking, Meredith has given me a hairstyle fit for a debutante ball.
“Holy shit, Elizabeth. That’s a lot to take in. Like, a lot, a lot. I think I need a drink.” She goes over to a minifridge and pulls out a wine cooler and offers me one. I decline since I drove here, but that doesn’t stop her from guzzling hers down.
