Nik steps up behind me at the bar, helping the next customer. “D’ya want me to come?” I glance at Nik. “These guys can spare me for a few minutes, it’s slowing down.”
Nik nods my way, looking between us. “Yeah, of course. Something happen?” he asks, pouring out two cans into glasses with ease.
“Thank you, but it’s fine,” she says to us both. “I’ll be back before you can miss me.” Then, she turns on her heeled boots toward the door. “Oh! Do me a favor though and give those toyour sisters!” she shouts over her shoulder. “Sorry,” she mouths toward them as she reaches the door and steps out into the dimly lit parking lot.
I take the two beers over to Sef and Nads as instructed. “She needs to check on her mom,” I explain, setting them down on their table. “She’ll be back.”
“Milo, weloveher,” Sef says, grabbing my arm and squeezing it tightly. It’s her first night out since Harper was born and she isenjoyingherself, to say the least. I smile knowingly at Nadia, who’s sipping her overly full beer and tapping her fingers to Tom’s piano solo. “Don’t we just love her, Nads?” Sef asks, slurring a bit.
“She is pretty great,” Nadia says, licking the foam off her upper lip. “I get why you’re acting like such a lovesick idiot alittlebit more now.”
“I was just telling Nadia that you’re planning on”—Sef leans in to speak quietly, even though Prue is long gone—“staying.” She straightens her posture, smiling softly. “And thatsheshould stay too.”
Nadia picks up her beer mug and takes a few long, heavy gulps.
“What do you say, ?????? How about sticking around for winter?”
“I know you’re probably sick of living with us and the kids, but I bet Aleks would let you stay in his spare room.” Sef giggles maniacally. “Or you could share his—”
“Thank you, Sefina. That’s enough.” Nadia laughs, looking toward the bar before she looks back toward me. “I’ll stick around…for a bit.”
I smile at Sef first, then Nads. “Good,” I say, unable to wipe the joy off my face. “All right, well, enjoy,” I say, bowing subtly before I start walking back toward the bar.
Thisis going to be my new normal, I think to myself. All the people I love, who somehow manage to love me back, together inone place. Helping each other out, supporting one another, being a unit again. And for the first time in a really,reallylong time—I feel hopeful for what’s to come.
It’s not perfect, and there’s plenty of work to be done, but it’sfamily.
Twenty-seven
Prue
“Hey,” I saysoftly to Tracy, dropping my bag by the back door. “Is she settling in okay?”
“Hi, sweetie. Yes, she’s fine,” Tracy whispers, placing her glass of wine down on the kitchen counter as she smiles brightly toward me. Tracy and her husband, John, didn’t meet until much later in life, so she never knew my mom as she once was, but she’s been a good friend to Dad all the same and helped us out in a pinch a few times. “I’m sorry to be a bother, I checked everywhere I could think of.”
“Oh, no, please don’t apologize,” I say, smiling. “My dad was on med duty today, he’s probably just forgotten them in his office,” I say, reaching for his office keys that are hanging on the wall. “I’ll check there first. Sorry to have caused more work for you!”
“No, no, it’s been a mostly quiet evening. I got half a new blanket done while your mom kept me company.”
“Knitting?” I ask over my shoulder.
“Yes, ma’am,” Tracy says, staying by the entryway.
“I’d love to learn someday.” I begin walking down the hall toward Dad’s office.
“Well, I’d be happy to teach you!”
I reply with a noncommittal, happy mumble before trying the door to see if it’s locked before using the key. It’s unusual for Dadto lock his office door, but I suppose you can’t be too careful with Mom’s recent wanderings. Immediately after getting inside, I spot Mom’s pill organizer on his desk and walk over to it.
Then, something catches my eye: an unopened whiteboxof pills, next to Mom’s many bottles we use to fill her weekly organizer. The same collection of pill bottles that I’ve been picking up from the pharmacy and dividing out for years now, none of which come in a box. I pick it up and read its label.Tomas Novikov, Dexamethasone, 2mg Tablets.
I lower into Dad’s office chair without thought, feeling a creeping sense of dread tunnel my vision as I tap my finger against the box.I’m sure it’s nothing,I tell myself quickly, trying to dismiss the growing aching feeling in my chest. It’s probably for Dad’s headaches or something equally innocuous.
But no matter how much I try to just set the box back down, take Mom’s medication to Tracy, and get back to the brewery,somethinginside of me—call it intuition or paranoia—begs to know for sure.
So, I hit enteron Dad’s keyboard to wake up his old-school computer, type in the same exact password he’s had since I was a middle schooler, and click the browser so I can find out what this medication is prescribed for.
Except, when the browser opens, I don’t have to type anything in at all. Not when Dad’s left open four tabs that reveal so much more than I’d bargained for.
