Page 76 of The Rebound
“To see you! Shit, Abby, sorry for wanting to see my friend. And lest we forget, I’m not the one who ran away without saying goodbye. If anyone, I’m the person who should be mad in this situation.”
“But you didn’t think I might—”
“Oh, save the tantrum, okay? You’re talking to the queen of them.”
She dumps her purse on the bed and stalks the two steps to the window, sliding it open.
“It’s stuffy in here,” she mutters. She stays like that, her back to me in her “I’m upset now” pose and my initial anger starts to fade. She’s right. I did run away. And I suppose it’s not the best welcome for someone who flew across an ocean to see you.
“I’m sorry,” I say when she doesn’t move. “Jess? I mean it.”
She turns back around, crossing her arms as rests against the windowsill. “I’m sorry too. I should have told you I was coming.”
“You shouldn’t have come at all.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s weird,” I say, gathering up the clothes strewn over the back of the chair.
“You know, from the way you spoke about this place I thought a horse and cart was going to pick me up. Some red-faced farmer in a tweed jacket who I couldn’t understand a word of.”
“I’ll make sure you get the authentic experience for your flight out.” I drop to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of the mirror. Makeup will help. I haven’t been wearing any the last few weeks, a little fearful that if I ran out I couldn’t afford replacements, but now I’m determined to feel a little more normal.
Abandoning the window, Jess joins me on the carpet, her long legs stretched before her, crossed at the ankles.
“Bring your brush up,” she says when I start on my bronzer. “You’re lucky enough to have cheekbones, Abby. You might as well highlight them.”
“I can’t do it if you watch me.”
“Then I’ll do it.” She snatches the brush from me, her fingers warm and dry as they pinch my chin, turning my face toward her. There’s a burning behind my eyes that won’t go away and I try not to blink as she examines me. “Are you still mad?” she asks.
“No.”
“Good. Because I got you some foundation.” Her attention is on my temples as she blends. “It’s your present but we might need to check the shade. You’ve gotten paler.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” She abandons the brush, reaching for some highlighter. “Remember when we first met and I used to do this?”
“You said it relaxed you.”
“It does. And you were the only person who let me do it. No one else trusted me not to make them look bad. But you used to do whatever I told you to.” Her thumb wipes away a tear I didn’t even know had fallen. “When did you stop doing that?”
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice breaking. “I feel like I don’t know anything anymore.”
“Yes, you do. Hey.Hey.” She shushes me, drawing me in for a hug, and despite my half-finished face, she doesn’t stop me as I bury my head in her shoulder and do what I haven’t done since the day I lost my job. I cry.
They’re awkward, breathy sobs that once I start I can’t stop, and when I finally do it’s another while before I sit up, my nose snotty and my head pounding and my eyes puffy and red.
Jess says nothing, passing me a tissue and plucking a makeup wipe from the packet. “At least we know your mascara is waterproof,” she mutters, blinking away her own tears as she rubs my face clean.
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be. Making me chase you like this. I had to make Amber my bad-date excuse. The first time I texted her like, “Oh, is there an emergency?” she was like, “What are you talking about?” That girl is dumb.”
My laughs sounds like a hiccup. “I just feel like I’m the only one still struggling.”
“That’s my fault.” She sighs. “I was trying to make you jealous so you’d come back. Yes, some people are doing okay but the last I heard Peter’s gone to work on an alpaca farm in Peru and Jasmine freaked out one day and tried to open a bakery in Newark.”
