“Yeah, probably against some code of ethics or something.” A slight glimmer returns to his eyes as he speaks and it makes me smile.
“Or something.” I exhale. “I don’t know how else to help.”
He nods. “Yeah, me either.”
Emotion strangles my throat. I abandon the items on the counter to go to JP and I hug him again. “I wish I knew it was this bad.”
He nods, his face numb as he takes a bite of his Crunch Wrap. “Life comes at you fast.”
I nod in agreement. “Does she want visitors?”
He clears his throat. “She’s asleep, but, um, she can’t wait to see you.” His face brightens and I wonder how much of it is a lie. Audrey and I don’t know each other well by any means so it would seem his words are fabricated to make me feel welcome.
“All right,” I say, pulling back and returning to fill the freezer.
“How you been?” he asks, continuing to eat.
“Good.” I smile, shutting the freezer and pulling out my own Crunch Wrap.
“How’s Kevin?”
I take a bite and hold a hand to my mouth to cover the fire sauce that squirted out. “Still the best boy ever.”
“Adjusting okay to the new place?”
His question strikes me. I didn’t tell JP I moved in with Donavan.
“He’s doing okay.” I smile. “How’d you know I moved?”
“I dropped you off there...” he raises his eyebrows quickly then takes another bite.
“Right,” I realize, then add, “Well, I didn’t move in until recently. I wasn’t living there when you dropped me off—”
“It’s okay if you were.” JP smiles, but I can tell it’s forced.
“JP...”
“You should have brought him,” he adds. I ignore the twitch in his jaw.
Instead of asking why, I say, “He’s with his son.”
JP nods, his head bobbing up and down as he rolls up the purple and white wrapper and shoots it into the garbage in the corner, refusing eye contact.
“He’s a good guy, JP.”
“Better be.”
I swallow his words as I hear a light shuffle behind me.
“You came,” Audrey says. Her voice is soft and I turn around, dropping my food on the counter to greet her.
I’m struck by her appearance. I knew what to expect when I walked in, but still, seeing it in front of me and feeling it in my arms resonates in my soul like a nightmare. The woman I’m greeting is a whisper of the woman I met on New Year’s just over a year ago. Her vibrant red hair has dulled and is patchy, making me realize she’s lost a portion of it. Her cheeks are gaunt, and her lips are lavender and chapped. Her green terrycloth robe hangs off her shoulders like cheesecloth on barbed wire. I can hardly picture her as the vivacious woman who drank champagne and danced and laughed and smiled through life.
Even still, there’s a recognition in our eyes as we look at each other. A wholesome sorrow washes over me, but I fear I’m feeling it for all the wrong reasons.
I have so much love for her. But I’m feeling it because of someone else.
“Julia, I’m so glad to see you,” she says, pulling out of my embrace. Even her voice sounds different. I hate it. I want the Audrey of last year back. “How are you feeling?”
