“How would I tend to the animals though?” She mimed trying to reach around larger boobs.
“Fine. Get in car accidents. See if I care.”
“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I keep telling you!”
“Always trying to steal my limelight.”
“I just want a sliver of the lime,” she said. “Preferably with an ice-cold Corona.”
“Believe me,” I said. “You don’t.” I looked around the mostly clean kitchen. “Soooo… Alki Café for breakfast then?”
“Absofuckinglutely.”
I hurried to my own room to change and run a brush through my hair before twisting it into a long braid that hung down my back. After throwing on my favorite worn-in baseball cap and a pair of flip-flops, we were out the door.
We walked the few blocks to our favorite breakfast spot while chatting about her clinic. She was annoyed that her partner, a lovely woman called Alexandra, who was two decades older than us, had called on another local vet to help with Addie’s patients.
“I mean,” Addie said. “Obviously she had to call someone. She can’t handle my patients and hers all on her own, but why did she have to call him.”
The him in question was Addie’s sworn enemy. At least, that’s what she’d made him out to be, despite not having met him once. Her opinion was based solely off his fancy clinic, state of the art equipment, and good looks that were “too good to take seriously”.
“He’s a cad,” she said now.
“How do you know?”
“I just do. I’ve known men like him all my life. He’s good looking and he knows it and he uses it.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You mean like me?”
She elbowed me. “You know what I mean.”
I did, but it didn’t mean I didn’t get to give her shit.
“Maybe he’s nice,” I said. “Animals wouldn’t like him if he wasn’t.”
“Animals can be dumb.”
“Addie!” I said, laughing.
She smirked.
“Don’t tell my clients I said that,” she said. “Except Wilbur the greyhound. He’s well aware of his mental shortcomings.”
We ordered a carafe of passionfruit mimosas as soon as we were seated and then perused the menu, landing as always on our favorites: French toast, a veggie omelet, roasted potatoes, and vegan sausage. Like we’d been doing since we were girls, we would share it all.
“So,” Addie said, sipping her mimosa. “Spill.”
“Spill what?” I said, eyes wide. But she wasn’t buying it.
“I know you’ve been avoiding telling me anything of importance. And while I appreciate you not wanting to bother me with anything more serious than a bad date with a cute Brit while I’ve got all this going on…” She waved a hand towards her body. “I’m bored of your bullshit. You leave tomorrow. So spill it. What’s happening with that designer Daniela? Is a photo shoot happening soon? Have you made any decisions about next career moves? What about Avery’s offer to write for the Post? Have you given that any more thought?”
Avery was an old classmate from high school and then college, until both Addie and I left. After graduating from the University of Washington with a writing degree, she’d left the country in search of adventure and newsworthy stories, which gained her a slew of injuries acquired while reporting on events all over the map, the last of which – a conflict – was serious enough to send her back stateside to reconsider her life’s choices. She returned to Seattle at twenty eight and found herself taking a lead desk job at the Seattle Post. I’d run into her during one of my visits to see Addie last year and she said she’d been meaning to call me about an idea she’d had which would involve me writing for the paper.
“Fine,” I said to Addie, making a face and stabbing a slice of strawberry. “Yes, to the photo shoot. No, to making any career decisions. Yes, I’ve thought a lot about her offer.”
“And?”
“And…” I shrugged. “It’s enticing for sure. To maybe move back here and be near you. To be doing something I’ve always loved and wanted to pursue. I just…”
