Page 27 of What You Left Me

“Well, I know Daniel.”

“That’s doubtful.”

“Is it?”

Quiet settles in. Aminah considers her rebuttal, squinting her eyes to see him in a new way. “Shouldn’t you be with your friend at the hospital?”

It’s a low blow, and we all know it.

I wince. Cameron winces. Aminah tries to stand tall, but her chest caves in.

“Maybe I’ve had a long twenty-four hours, and I just wanna sit by the pool and take a break for a second because one of my best friends could die, and I can’t do shit about it.” He sits down on the bar stool next to me. “I know I don’t really know you guys. That’s kinda the point. I can’t be around my bullshit group right now.”

Tasered by his words, Aminah fumbles for a chair, guilty.

• • •

Here’s the simplest, silliest thing I want right now: my damn sandwich. Spitty has to buy it. He owes me. He let a car ram into my body. The least I’d expect is a sub.

Ugh.

I guess I don’t know how any of this works. Am I waiting for people to go to sleep? Think of me? How much time has passed? Can I really let myself believe this is a real thing that’s happening to me?

Mama Dorothy hates sleep. She thinks it’s a waste of time. She probably doesn’t use up any brainpower on dreaming. Maybe Dad. He’s been a light sleeper ever since the back injury though. That man caught me every single time I ever snuck out, even the time I taped pillows to my feet so he wouldn’t hear my footsteps.

Katie? Bet I’d get a good part in a Katie dream. What if it’s a sex one though? The last thing I want is to be watching my sister get down with her husband in the bleachers while I’m stuck singing “Go Cubs Go.” Why do I feel like that’s what all her dreams are like? Horrific. I guess I’m glad I haven’t had to deal with that.

Okay, that’s a lie. I’d put up with my worst nightmare just to be able to let her know that I’m here. To let anyone know I’m here.

Where do they even think I am?

• • •

The single most valuable talent Cameron possesses—above good studying habits and being sentimental without being overbearing—is her ability to revive dead conversations. It must be eating her up inside that she hasn’t figured out how to crack my sour mood because she goes overboard on Turrey. She drills him with the strangest of inquiries, playing on the innocence she knows she exudes, acting like she doesn’t know anything when she has a pretty good idea about it all, but making Turrey both so confused and so filled with a desire to make her understand that he forgets there was ever a problem. Or decides it’s easier to keep moving along. Either way, Cameron makes it work, and I can see in her swelling smile what joy it gives her. We listen to Turrey detail with great specificity what it was like to play two winter sports at the same time his sophomore year.

It shouldn’t work, but it does. The tension wafts out of the kitchen.

It’s rare for Aminah to embarrass herself. She wears the shame like a heavy cloak. For penance, she offers to make everyone a drink, digging into the pantry for a margarita mix and some tequila.

“I’m not touching that stuff right now,” Turrey says.

“I can make food or something,” Aminah adds.

“I’m good.” Turrey nods. He does a finger point between him and Aminah. “We’re good.”

Aminah gives him a solemn nod in return.

“I’ll take a drink,” Cameron says.

“You’re cut off,” Aminah tells her. “The fact that you started an hour ago, by yourself no less, is sad enough.”

Daniel is still missing in action. I don’t interrupt the conversation—it’s nice not to be the point of interest—to ask where he went. I just text him.

Where did you go?

To my room

Okay