Page 60 of Next Time Will Be Our Turn
No, don’t be stupid. It was the kind of throwaway comment that friends made to each other all the time without much thought behind it. A casual remark one might make. Stop reading so much into it. Case in point: it was so innocuous, so casual, that she thought nothing of saying it in front of my husband. Which meant she didn’t see anything particularly special about it. She probably missed me the same way she missed good Mexican food. Definitely not the way I did, writing unsent letters to her for a decade. The memory of the letters I wrote to her over the years flushed hot through my body. Now that I was actually standing in front of the real flesh-and-blood Ellery, I wanted to curl up and go hide in a hole.
Somehow, I managed to say, “Yeah, I’ve missed you too,” in the most lighthearted, airy way humanly possible. We said our goodbyes, I handed Hazel over to Iris, and as I walked away with Parker holding my hand, I looked over my shoulder. Ellery was watching us, and maybe it was just the way the streetlight made her face look, but I could’ve sworn she was smiling the saddest smile I’ve ever seen.
• • •
There were a lot of things still to be done to settle into our new place. We’d rented a furnished unit, so we didn’t have to buy bulky furniture, but we still had to get things like pots and pans and chopsticks and a rice cooker and cushions and all that, so Parker and I were busy for the next few days. Once his program began and he left the apartment every morning, I felt overwhelmed by everything that still had to be done. Setting up a Wi-Fi connection in the apartment. Setting up the TV. Washing all of the new bed linens. Speaking of which, among the whirlwind of shopping we’d done, we’d somehow forgotten to buy laundry detergent. An endless list of chores that seemed to grow by the minute.
I was sitting there, staring at the list of chores, when my phone rang. I answered without looking at the screen.
“What are you up to, Tulip? Got your number from Iris. I hope that’s okay.”
The list was suddenly forgotten. I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at the screen. Ellery’s name was on it. Holy shit.
“Uh. Hey.” I hoped that came out casual. “I’m looking at an endless list of dreary errands that I have to run today. What about you?”
“What kind of errands?”
“Buying laundry detergent, oh, and toilet cleaning fluids and olive oil…all that fun stuff.”
“So a Target run?”
“Yeah. You know, when I was living in Indonesia, I missed Target so much. But we’ve been back and forth there like three times in the past week, and I am so sick of Target.”
“Sick of Target? Is that even humanly possible?”
“I didn’t think it was, but I have proven myself wrong. I am definitely sick of Target.”
Ellery laughed. “Well, I’m not sick of Target. I’ll go with you if you want.”
“Really?” Oh god, that definitely sounded way too eager. “But don’t you have work to do?”
“I’m a freelance journalist, Tulip. I make my own hours.”
“Oh. Right.” And just like that, my whole body was filled with effervescent energy. I got up from the sofa and started pacing the room. “Um, yeah. Sure. Yes, let’s go to Target.” Oh my god. I’m going to Target with Ellery.
“Cool. Do you wanna meet me there, or should I pick you up?”
Somehow, the words “should I pick you up” sounded so incredibly intimate. I knew there was nothing to them, but still. There was no way I could’ve said no to that.
“Yes.”
“Yay! I’ll be there in twenty.”
The moment I hung up the phone, I leaped into action, yanking off my pajamas and hopping into the shower. I scrubbed myself ruthlessly, then slapped on some rose-scented moisturizer and tried on two different outfits before settling on a pair of jeans and a soft sweater that hung off one shoulder. Not too dressy but still cute. I was in the middle of swiping on a layer of lipstick when Ellery called to tell me she was out front. By the time I came out to meet her, I was out of breath, but at least I was confident that I looked somewhat presentable.
I slid inside the car and shut the door and was immediately transported back to over ten years ago, when she used to driveme back from school all the time. The familiar silence, with the hum of the engine in the background and the closeness of her and the sound of our breathing and the rustling of our clothes—it all dragged me back in time. I felt as nervous as I did back then.
“Hey,” she said, with an easy smile. Her eyes were so bright and clear in the sunlight.
“Hi.”
She placed a hand on the back of my seat and looked around her shoulder as she reversed. I swallowed. She wasn’t even touching me, but I was super aware of her hand on the back of my seat. When she finally took her hand off and placed it on the steering wheel, I let my breath out slowly.Real subtle, Magnolia.
“Stupid question,” I blurted out.
“Go for it,” she said.
Now I had to ask it, no matter how dumb it was, no matter how obvious. But if I didn’t ask, it would continue burning a hole in my chest, so might as well come out with it. “Are you…married?” I gritted my teeth once the question was out there, hating myself for even wondering. And, belatedly, I realized I hadn’t even said good morning or anything.
