Page 91 of Single Girl in the City
“I don’t want a new one!” Dotti looked closer and concern laced her face as she stepped onto the porch and into the rain. Abi watched the drops speckle her sister’s dress and soak into the silky fabric. “What’s wrong, Abs?”
The sound of her childhood nickname released the first sob, which rolled through her chest and exploded free. It was quickly followed by another, which wracked her body. By the next, she was pouring herself into her sister’s arms until they were both sitting on the wet concrete.
“I need Jenny,” she choked out, and Dotti’s face went still because it was the first time Abi had mentioned Jenny to her sister. Or to anyone other than Owen. “I need her so much right now and she’s not here.”
“I know how much she meant to you and that you two were like sisters,” Dotti whispered, and Abi could hear the longing in her sister’s voice. “I’m sorry she’s gone.”
“It’s like with Mee-maw. I thought it would get easier. I thought that maybe someday it would simply be a happy memory. And sometimes it is. Like I’ll see a ladybug fly by or a deer in the park, and I feel like they’re right there with me. Then other times, the grief is so strong it drags me to my knees and I’m right back there in the bus where everything is scary and out of control.”
“You’re not on the bus, you’re safe at home. And you’ve got me to lean on.”
She rested her head on her sister’s shoulder like she used to when they were younger and Abi’d had a bad dream. Only this dream was her reality.
“Am I? I’m not on the bus but I don’t feel safe or like this is my home. Well, I did.” With Owen she did. “But I don’t feel safe anymore. All I feel is loss, never-ending, excruciating loss.”
“Oh, honey,” Dotti cooed. “I know I’m not Jenny, but I’m your sister and I’d like to help.” Abi looked up to find that Dotti was crying too. “How can I help?”
“Can I have a hug?” she said in choppy breaths.
“You can have all the hugs.” Dotti pulled her closer and Abi buried her face into her sister’s hair. She smelled like apple juice, hair spray, and days of childhood past. Abi’s body wracked with sobs, so hard that it felt like her chest was cracked. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Abi shook her head. “If I do, I’ll start crying.”
“You’re already crying, so you might as well get it all out.” Dotti went quiet. “What happened?”
“I friended him for selfish reasons and then he told me I was too much.”
Dotti pulled back. “He told you that? What a dick!”
“Well, not those exact words. Okay, not those words at all but he did say that it was a lot right then.”
“Maybe that was all he meant. That he was a little overwhelmed by how it went down.”
“It doesn’t matter how he said it, he let me walk away,” she said miserably. “He told me he loved me, then promised he was the kind of man to dig in, then he told me to leave.” Abi sucked in a shaky breath. “I don’t get it. No matter how hard I try, I’m either too much or not enough. All I want to be is someone’s just right.”
“You’re my just right.” A pair of dress shoes came into view, so Abi closed her eyes and wished him to go away. “In fact, you’re so damn right it scares the hell out of me.”
She looked up and the familiar, handsome face swimming before her eyes made her breath catch. Owen had lost his jacket and tie, his clothes were soaked through, his hair slicked back. She looked past him. No truck at the curb.
“Did you walk here?”
“I ran. Nineteen blocks in dress shoes. Nineteen blocks with the fear that I blew the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Um.” Dotti looked between the two of them. “This is my cue to leave.”
“What happened to having my back?” Abi asked, clinging to her sister’s hand for dear life.
“It might not seem this way right now, but I promise I have your back.”
Her sister leaned in and kissed Abi on the cheek, then whispered, “This is what Jenny would do.” She got up and walked into the house.
When the door clicked shut, Abi turned to sit on the first step and stared at her open-toed heels, which she’d also “borrowed” from Dotti, who was going to kill her when she saw how scuffed and torn they were from the bike chain.
“I should have told you the truth that first moment in the parking lot,” she said to her feet. “But you promised me that, no matter what, we’d walk away friends. You lied to me too.”
“I did,” he said.
She felt him sit next to her on the stoop. She looked over, not bothering to hide her crying. “And you told me you loved me and then told me to go.”
