CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I COULDN’T BE ME WITHOUT THEE

On the short ride from the clinic down the canyon to the visitors’ center, I kept my eyes open for Holly. I learned from the driver that Best Friends Animal Sanctuary was not a free-range gaggle, as I’d imagined. No, the animals were counted, housed, and cared for in boroughs named Dog Town, Cat World, Parrot Garden, and others. It was so organized and the mission so clear; I wanted to move in and be a part of such certainty. I wanted to drop my own rollaway next to Peanut and Moose and stay, mange be damned.

After I waved goodbye to the vet technician, who could have gone on for days with facts about Best Friends, I saw Summer strolling away from one of the animal neighborhoods in the lower part of the sanctuary. Summer’s T-shirt had been tied around her tight middle, and a light sweat shone on her skin. Red dust collected around the rubber soles of her white sandals. She waved the second she saw me.

“Girl, this place is bananas,” she said. “I just got done walking a five-hundred-pound pig named Trixie. It’s a job, I tell you. You have to drop food, and they follow you. Defeats the purpose, if you ask me, but who am I to judge a pig’s exercise motivations? You do you, Trixie. Whatever works.” She brushed her hands on her skirt. “I signed us up to volunteer in the Bunny House and the Parrot Garden tomorrow. Dog Town was booked, but maybe if we sweet-talk someone, we can get in there. I know you’re allergic to cats, so I didn’t even look to see if there were openings there.”

“How do you know I’m allergic to cats?”

She gave me a look and drew a circle around my face in the air. “Duh, just look at you.”

I wasn’t going to try to figure out how she sensed I’d had a mild cat allergy ever since my childhood cat died from kidney failure—not enough to keep me away from cats, though. I didn’t have it in me to figure out the universe right then.

“Where’s Holly?”

“No idea. Grab your bag. I was also able to book us into a cabin. Holly can sleep in the camper and keep her crabby poison to herself. She can shower in our place—that’s fine—but that’s it.”

“Summer, we can’t do that to Holly.”

“Her negativity is too much. I can’t be around it. It’s like secondhand smoke. It’ll kill you faster than vaping.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Why are you two friends anyway? You’re such an odd couple.”

“Earlier, you called us two peas in a pod. Which is it?”

“Stop changing the subject and answer the question.”

“I think we’re on the same subject.” I was getting used to the flip-flop of conversing with Summer, so I said, “We’ve been friends forever. Since college. Our friend Katie—Peanut’s mom—and Holly and I were roommates. Holly was the funny one, Katie the beautiful, nice one, and I was, I don’t know, like their pet. I went along, did a lot of the driving. Made sure everyone got home at the end of the night.” I could paint us in any way I wanted with Summer, and I found I wanted to get it right for this stranger, as if she were setting it down in a ledger for historical purposes. I could see Holly at twenty-one, grinning, so sure, and then underneath that satisfied smirk where there was a shiver of Thank God you’re my friend. I couldn’t be me without thee.

“Holly partied?”

“Yeah. God, she was a lot of fun. Maybe she still is; she’s just not that fun around me.” I had been able to mute the sorrow I’d felt after our friendship had collapsed, but this excursion revitalized everything. It was as if that time in my life had been stored as a flat, dry sponge in my memory banks. These days of togetherness were rehydrating each memory and emotion one drop at a time. Like when we’d found each other after the graduation ceremony, tossing our mortarboards in the air and shouting, “We did it!” And hugged so hard and I cried tears into Holly’s graduation-gown shoulder. Or after, at dinner, when we tearfully shared a strawberry shortcake for dessert, and I experienced the salty and sweet mixture of happy and sad. I was right back there at this moment replaying that ache.

Summer watched me as she wound her braids into bundles and clipped them on top of her head. She was the most irritating and enchanting mix of teen girl and wise elder.

“What happened between the two of you?”

What could I say to that? A gnat flew into my hair, and I heard it buzz-struggle to get out. Summer plucked the bug free and let it somersault away. “We.” I stopped. “We didn’t have a huge falling out.” That was true. We didn’t. It was more like a slipping out . Every time I thought about Holly, I cringed at the memory of my naive self, my immaturity and lack of life experience all those years ago. If I’d realized what was happening at the time, I could have grabbed the tail end of our friendship before it slid through my grasp. I could have yanked it back and set it right. Now, the only way to fix it was time travel. If I could go back, I’d put off my internship for a month. Drive after Holly, call her aunt. Show up at her internship.

But all that action was for movies, not twenty-one-year-old girls who had no idea what years without their best friend might be like—thinking for sure they would reconnect—the youth’s ability to believe that they had all the time in the world to fix things.

Frankly, there were other things I might fix if given the chance to zoom backward on the calendar. I thought about Jeff, how I didn’t know him. About our marriage, but that wasn’t an easy daydream because I wouldn’t change even half a second with Maddie. I wiped all those change thoughts from my mind.

“Well, I can see you know more than you’re saying. Someday you’re going to have to talk about it.” Summer narrowed her eyes at me like she did when she was reading some unseeable story over my head. This time there wasn’t anything to read.

“I’m not being coy. I don’t know, Summer.”

“Oh, I think you do, my grasshopper. I think you do.”

I shook my head. “Summer.”

“You’re going to have to push away from the edge of the swimming pool and get into the deep end. If you don’t, you’ll always be hanging on with your fingertips, afraid.” With that, Summer pointed toward a path that presumably led to the cabins. I grabbed my luggage and followed her. Somehow Summer made me feel like a child, like I owed her an explanation for my dirty hands, for my playground disagreements. I hustled to her side. I wanted to show her I could swim in the deep end.

“If you had told me then that after graduation Holly and I wouldn’t be friends, I would have laughed at you. Laughed and told Holly, and we would have pooh-poohed it together. As if we’d ever let anything get between. It was not possible.”

“And yet,” Summer said over her shoulder.

“Katie was the warmest of us all. And brilliant. Anything she read she remembered. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have passed my astronomy elective. Holly and I studied, but Katie, she could sit in lectures and ace the exam.”

“I never went to college.”

“No?”

“Nah, my mom got me into commercials right away. There’s a lot of money in commercials. Especially if they run a long time. I was the girl sniffing coffee in the Folger’s commercial.”

“You were in a Folger’s commercial?”

“And Juicy Fruit gum, Johnson Wax, and Taco Bell. I had to eat so many tacos, I won’t go near them now.”

We took a few more steps. It was a relief to talk about her history instead of mine. I felt like I was getting close to something, but I couldn’t reach it, like a popcorn hull caught in a tooth crevice, and I was fishing around and making everything else sore.

“The show, though. That must have been fantastic.”

“Yeah,” she said without enthusiasm. “Fantastic.”

I waited, thinking she would elaborate. The ruddy dust on the road kicked up a cloud as we stepped into the sagebrush. I was just about to fill the lull when she said, “You don’t have friends when you’re in show business. Just connections. People who can connect and people who can’t. Once you become someone who lacks connections, all your so-called friends disappear.”

“What about your cohost? Matt what’s his name? Isn’t he in those comic book movies now?” She trudged ahead of me on the path, switched her bag from one shoulder to the other. “You guys seemed like the best of friends.”

Summer stopped walking. “I was in love with him.” The sun was behind her, so I couldn’t read her expression, but I didn’t have to. Her voice dropped, not in volume, but as if the next words were a burden. “Best friends are hard. You, of all people, know that.”

Summer’s vulnerability, the ease with which she dropped this painful piece of history, made me admire her openness while feeling so very sad for her. The night held us in this moment, and I heard her sigh.

We approached the cottage, which was four cement walls and a tile roof, where we would spend the night. The camper sat, slightly off kilter, on the rock driveway.

“She found us,” Summer said out of the side of her mouth. “The jig is up.” And boom, Summer the jokester was back.

“The jig?”

“There’s no way we can exclude Holly from sleeping with us. It was a good idea, Sam, but not well executed.”

“It wasn’t my idea. I didn’t even know about these cottages.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.”

Holly lounged, phone to her ear, in the only chair outside cottage number four. A scattering of moths bombed the light over her head, but Holly didn’t seem to notice. Nor did she see us. I stopped, unsure of what to do with my awkward apprehension. Summer, a few steps in front of me, swung her arm back and drew me along.

Holly said, “I love you, Rosie. I’ll be home soon. Yes.” She nodded, hung up, and wiped her eyes.

Something akin to love washed over me at hearing Holly’s gentle voice, a voice I used to know so well. I resisted Summer just enough to postpone what would inevitably be another difficult moment with Holly, a moment that would squash this warmth I was feeling.

We grabbed the rest of our stuff from the bus, and Summer stepped onto the narrow porch and put her hand on Holly’s shoulder. “Let’s get you out of the heat. The people at the welcome center said the door is unlocked.”

I tried to make eye contact, but Holly averted her eyes from mine, and once again my fatigue whispered, Why bother?

In the cottage, Holly dropped onto one of the double beds and lay flat on her back like a starfish. Summer began unpacking on the other bed. I sank into an upholstered chair and rested my head against the painted concrete wall.

“Okay,” said Holly, staring pointedly at the ceiling. “We’ll push the vet to give us an itemized rehabilitation plan for Peanut. Then we’ll insist we leave sooner. I’ll check the statutes. I don’t think they can keep him.” Holly frowned, and one deep wrinkle between her eyes appeared. Her complexion was otherwise so smooth that a wrinkle stood out in high relief.

For a hot second, I thought about suggesting that Summer and I could do this without Holly. That she could fly home to Rosie. This would reduce conflict on all fronts, with the sanctuary and between Holly and me, and get her home for Rosie and Katie.

I rejected that thought almost before it was fully formed. It was clear Holly thought I had ruined our friendship. That I somehow hadn’t been a sufficient friend, hadn’t defended her from Mike, hadn’t made amends. There was no way she would believe my motivations were pure, because in fact they weren’t entirely. This was what I did where conflict was concerned: pacify, pander, and comply. Holly and I had to get to the finish line together.

“Also, I’m not like you guys. I have to eat. I’m going to find some dinner,” said Holly.

With that, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

When I woke, my back stiff from the unforgiving chair, it was twilight, the room was empty, and I had the strongest urge to see Peanut. And, I suppose by proxy, Katie. There were texts on my phone from Maddie.

MADDIE: Mom, I can’t decide if the kids like or hate me

Where are you? I need help with a scholarship letter

Another text minutes later read,

You’re probably napping but I love Boulder. Can I go to college here?

And then the last one that said,

Can I take a gap year?

Each text was like notes in a frantic song moving toward a crescendo. I could feel Maddie’s insecurity about the kids, her desire for the right future, and uncertainty about what decisions would get her there. I thought about what to text back, but there were no short, meaningful sentences that would calm her or direct her future. If I even tried, she’d be either annoyed or have already moved on to another perceived issue. It all caused me the usual parent anxiety but also made me happy. I was not totally out of sight, out of mind.

Plus, I was no expert on how to make a life work. What would I say? What would Katie’s lesson be? Put your heart and soul into something and get cancer anyway?

A buzzing text from BDREW read: Do you have dog news?

There it was, that stab of feel good when a text from Drew appeared. I was rapidly becoming a test case for phone addiction and endorphin release.

ME: Yes. The Great Pyrenees has landed!

BDREW: Excellent! So, what’s your ETA?

Was he asking because he wanted to see me or because he was so invested in Katie that he wanted to ease her wait? Or both? Or just the latter? Most likely the latter. Ugh.

ME: He’s sick. Her ex did not take care of him. I told Katie we’d be home in a few more days.

BDREW: She’s pretty down. She got discharged but her WBCs spiked. She’s being readmitted. PS. This is not privileged information. She texted me this.

A frisson of fear shot through me. High white blood cell counts are the bane of all those admitted to the hospital. WBCs could mean so many things, from a dangerous infection or illness to stress. With Katie, though, it could be the worst news possible.

ME: Do you know something else?

BDREW: No. But we both wish you were here.

ME: I wish I were there too.

I waited to see if there was more. I thought about how wise it was to involve a stranger in all this. But I wanted to involve this particular stranger more deeply. And that made me feel guilty and opportunistic. My feelings were a water board of torture.

BDREW: You’re a comforting person.

ME: I am? I’m not.

BDREW: Yes. Katie says you are her most loyal friend.

I felt the heat of confusion thinking about those two talking about me. I picked at something crusty on my leggings.

ME: She means so much to me.

I wished I’d taken a picture of Drew, creepy as that would have been. I would like to see his face. Be reminded that he was the right person to ask for help. That I had done it for the high-road reasons and not because I thought he was attractive. I wished I could see his expression while he texted me. Was it soft? Amused? Friendly?

BDREW: Send a photo of you and Peanut, okay?

ME: To Katie?

BDREW: No, to me.

And literally, it was like the crowd watching a home run on a baseball field went wild in my head. And that wildness felt like a mixed-up bag of possibility—but of what? Joy? Loss? Fear? Love? “Good God,” I said as I walked out the door. “Sammie, you are a wreck.”