Page 56 of Ablaze

Mala looks out the window, pretending to fume. “You’re awful, you know that? I honestly don’t know why I still keep you around.”

“Because you need me to keep you humble and grounded.” I purse my lips, trying to squelch my smile. “Oh wait, I forgot . . . you’re pretty close to the ground as it is.”

“Oh, ha ha. Someone’s quite the comedian today. Must be a full moon or something.”

I laugh, getting onto the snow-covered road out of her neighborhood. My wipers work overtime as they clear the incessantly falling snow off my windshield. It’s the first week of December and, as expected for this time of year, there’s a multi-foot blanket of snow in Tahoe. And even though visibility isn’t great right now, at least the roads aren’t slick, so driving all the way to South Tahoe doesn’t feel like quite the haul.

I texted Jane before I left Mala’s house, letting her know we were on our way. Her response lights up my phone sitting in the middle console, and Mala picks it up. “She says ‘see you guys soon’ and sent you her new address again.”

Jane and my almost ten-going-on-twenty-year-old goddaughter, Catherine, moved into a new home in South Lake Tahoe recently with Jane’s steady boyfriend of three years and his highschool-aged daughter. Jane met Owen–a widower who’d lost his wife to cancer several years ago–through a grief support group, and they seemed to connect right off the bat.

Based on everything I’ve heard from Jane, everyone seems to be getting along well, but this will be the first time I’ll be seeing the four of them together in their new home.

“You think Catherine will like the baking set I got her?” Mala fiddles with the gift bag at her feet. “She seemed to enjoy baking when she helped me at the café last year.”

I turn my blinker to get onto the freeway. “I’m sure she will. Jane said she loves to help out in the kitchen.”

I introduced Mala to Jane and Catherine a few years ago, and Catherine took an immediate liking to my best friend. I thought over all the years of knowing her that I’d seen all the sides of Mala, but I was proven wrong when I saw the way she was with Catherine. She almost turned into a kid herself. Catherine was only seven or eight at the time, but the way they connected over shows on Disney Channel and played video games, I’d have thought they’d known each other for years.

Catherine even spent a whole weekend with Mala and me last year when Jane and Owen left for a little romantic out-of-town getaway. And even though I had the extra room in my house, Catherine insisted on staying at Mala’s small condo–though, I think I have my suspicions as to why. And when I had to work, Mala had Catherine help out at Doggy Bag Café and taught her how to get comfortable with baking.

Jane and Catherine have never said it outright to me, but I have a strong suspicion they weren’t fans of Jessie. So, when Catherine was supposed to spend the weekend away from Jane, she didn’t want to run into Jessie again, even though I told her Jessie wasn’t going to be at my house that weekend at all.

For whatever reason, they just never really took a liking to Jessie the first time they met her. It was around the same time they met Mala, but maybe it was the fact that Jessie didn’t come across quite as warm that day. We’d had some argument or another, and Jessie was in a sour mood by the time Jane and Catherine showed up at my house.

I wish I could say I remember what we fought about, but truthfully, we’ve had so many arguments over the years, that particular one is a blur.

Several years ago, our arguments–and one of our major breakups–were around her relentless need to support her brother. Since we got back together after that, Jessie made a conscious effort not to ask me for more money to lend him, though I know she still helps him from time to time.

More recently, our arguments have been about me not wanting to spend time with her pretentious friends from the casino. And I don’t know if it’s because of their influence or just Jessie changing on her own over time, but she’s been rather judgy and high-nosed lately.

In fact, last week when we visited Rohan and Samantha for dinner, Jessie told me afterward that she felt suffocated in their home. That it was small and ‘unimaginative’. Sure, they don’t live in a mansion–I don’t, either–but where did she get off talking about their house when she didn’t own one herself?

Nevertheless, whatever our argument was on the day she met Jane and Catherine, it bled into the way she presented herself. Needless to say, the two women I consider an extension of my own family were not fans of my girlfriend.

Which is likely why they only invited me and Mala over to visit their new home and not my girlfriend.

Mala changes the music playing in my truck, jostling me out of my thoughts. I smile over at her as she mouths the words to her favorite song by Incubus–it’s my favorite song, too, but I won’t admit it to her. Her voice mingles with the lead singer’s, filling me with memories. And if I’m reading the look in her eyes correctly, she’s recalling the same night almost three years ago when I sang for her on her birthday.

“Dean?” She plays with the leather strap on her wrist I got for her not too long after she left that douchebag ex of hers. I found matching ones with half-hearts stuck to the straps, so I bought the matching set for myself. She wears one half of the heart, but the truth is, she has my half, too.

Is it cheesy that we wear best friend bracelets? Absolutely. Do I give a shit? Not even a little.

“Mala.” I keep my eyes on the dark road ahead.

“Thank you.”

I tilt my chin down. “You know I don’t like you thanking me.”

She pulls my hand from its place on my thigh and brings it to her lips, laying a kiss on the back of it. I feel the tingles all the way up my arm, settling somewhere in between my ribs.

She entangles our fingers together, placing them on her lap. Thankfully, she wore wool tights and boots today, given the freezing temperature outside. As much as I love her phenomenal legs, I would have had a heart attack if she wanted to come along wearing shorts.

“You can’t keep shutting me up when I want to, though. I need you to just hear me out one time.”

Relenting, I huff, “Go on.”

She looks at something out her window before squeezing my hand. “What you did for me after the way things went down with Warren . . . The way you were there for me . . . I can’t thank you enough.”

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