Page 4 of Please Don't Leave Me

“Ruthie?” I ask.

“Ruth is my bestie at the clinic where I got tested regularly when I was in school. I would see her just about every Tuesday.”

This girl! How are we possibly related?

Chapter Three

LOUISA

It’s Friday night, and B’s childhood best friend, Iris, is visiting us in the city. Iris is a junior at the same university B just graduated from. The two of them have been inseparable since we were younger, despite being two grades apart.

Iris’s older brother, Liam, and his wife, Evie, graduated high school with me. The five of us are all going downtown to celebrate Iris’s 21st birthday.

I poke my head into B’s room and find the floor scattered with a million pieces of clothing. A thick red head of hair and a wavy mane of purple hair are squished together, taking pictures in the mirror.

“Are you guys ready to go yet?” I just got home from work an hour ago, and I’m already dressed. They have been getting ready for the past 3 hours, so in theory, they should be as well. But are they?

“No! This kind of perfection takes time,” B yells at me without even turning around.

“How much longer do you two need? Liam and Evie said they’re picking us up for dinner at 7:00.”

Iris turns around and gives me a big smile, and I can already tell she’s a little tipsy. “Louisa,” she’s the only one who calls me that, “do you think this outfit says ‘it’s my birthday, buy me a drink’? B says it looks like I’m about to walk on stage at the strip club.”

“I never said that was a bad thing!” B defends herself.

I giggle to myself, knowing she definitely meant that as a compliment. Iris is wearing a bodysuit with two strips of fabric coming up from her skirt, crisscrossing over her chest and tied around her neck, leaving her stomach and back completely exposed. On the bottom, she’s wearing a skin-tight skirt that shows every curve on her petite little body. The ensemble doesn’t leave much to the imagination, and I’m very curious how Liam is going to react to it.

“You’re very sexy and beautiful, Iris," I say, even though my sisterly instincts are to throw a big sweater over her and shield her from the world; she’s a big girl and has autonomy over her own body. Plus, if anyone tries to get handsy without Iris’s permission, B would kick their ass.

“Have you finally decided on an outfit, B?”

“No. I think I tried on everything in my closet twice. And since I gave the birthday girl my best outfit, I have nothing to wear.”

Of course that top belongs to B. “I think what you have on looks great.”

“Says the girl wearing a sweater out to a bar. Seriously, Lou, you’re not wearing that. You’re supposed to be getting some dick tonight. That sweater screams, ‘I’m boring in bed,’ and I won’t let you go out like that because I love you.” She starts rummaging through the endless pile of clothes on her floor.

“B,I’m not comfortable in this.” I look at myself in the mirror, admitting that I look hot. But I’m not comfortable being seen out in public with this much skin showing. She put me in a black crop top with a delicate chain around my hips and a skirt.

Pepin barks from the bed and gives me a disapproving look.

B notices him and comments. “Pepin, there are enough old men in the world giving their unsolicited judgments; we don’t need you against us too.”

He lays his head down on his front paws as if giving up the fight. Even he knows there’s no winning when B is on her feminist soap box. “I told you, Lou, this is what people wear. You’re not going to stick out. If anything, you’ll actually blend in more.”

“Fine,” I concede because we are really running late, and I hate being late.

Dinner was great,but I barely ate anything because I was so nervous about potentially finding someone to hook up with. B kept reminding me there was no pressure and then, in the same breath, was reminding me that I needed to get laid.

I’m standing here on a rooftop bar downtown with just enough liquid courage to possibly talk to someone outside of our group. It’s not that I’m shy; I just haven’t done the whole dating thing in a while. But even if I do find someone to flirt with, I probably wouldn’t be able to hearthem over the loud music. I lean over and yell into B’s ear, “I need to pee.”

“Okay, I’ll come with you.”

We make our way inside and down the stairs to where the bathrooms are. She’s holding my hand as she trails behind me; otherwise, we’d likely get separated in the crowd. We get there, and of course, there’s a line for the women’s and no line for the men’s.

After several minutes of the line moving at a snail’s pace, B says, “Screw it!” She drags me out of the line and into the men’s bathroom.

“B, what the hell are you doing? We can’t just barge in here!”

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