“How could I forget? I’m pretty sure Harry Styles’ voice is embedded in my frontal lobe for eternity, whether my musical taste has changed or not.”
“And the Jonas Brothers,” she adds, then starts singing sotto voce. “We go together…”
I laugh and shake my head. “God, I forgot about that. It’s been years.”
“A lifetime.”
“Remember all the junk food we ate? Slim Jims and Otterpops and pickles.”
“And those little pizza bagels,” she adds.
“It was disgusting.”
“It was,” she agrees.
“I’m hungry,” I admit.
“Me too,” she says, and we both laugh.
I push myself to sit up and unplug my phone from the charger.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Looking up this Thai place,” I say. “It’s kind of in a sketchy area, but the food is so good. I found it when I was working as a waitress at a diner when I was like eighteen. I got sick of burnt burgers and soggy fries and I’d go to the Thai place instead. They gave me free gyoza every time.”
“That sounds so good,” she says, sitting up. “You think they’re open?”
“They’re open till 4 A.M.,” I say, but then I frown. “Damn. They only deliver until midnight.”
Electra taps her finger to her lips. “We could go get it?”
I look at her. “I don’t know. After everything that’s happened, Ransome would murder me if I left the house.”
“I mean, I get it. But also, we aren’t children,” she argues, very much sounding like the old Electra.
“Aren’t you worried about Sean?”
She shakes her head. “He’s probably drunk. Or at a strip club. Or drunk at a strip club. Either way, he’s never around this time of night. I bet he’s already written me off.”
I’m still hesitant. But at the same time, I want to do something fun. And being in this house feels like a prison right now. I feel like a sitting duck. A hungry sitting duck.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
Electra squeals, a sound that I very much appreciate after everything that’s happened.
Turns out, getting out of a house that is meant to keep people out is just as hard as breaking in. But after following all the security steps, we are home free, cruising down the dark streets, Thai food bound. For old times’ sake, we listen to music as we drive, blasting the Jonas Brothers and One Direction. We also throw All The Single Ladies in there just for kicks, since Electra is very much done with Sean. She’s planning on filing a restraining order tomorrow and reporting his ass.
Thank God.
We go a little crazy at the restaurant, ordering panang curry—this babylovesspicy food—and pad Thai, plus drunken noodles and Singapore noodles with duck. The place itself is definitely a little on the janky side, but in contrast, the people are nice and there’s a sign on the window that saysVoted number one Thai restaurant in the city.Is it true? I don’t know. But it smells true.
It’s also busy. Despite it being 2:30 A.M., it’s almost shoulder to shoulder inside.
“I vote we take it back home,” I tell her as they hand us the stapled brown paper bag.
“Good call,” she agrees. Before we left, she put some makeup on, and is wearing my hoodie to cover up the bruises. She keeps her head low, not making eye contact with anyone.
We worm our way out the door, excusing ourselves every time we need to slip past someone. Electra goes in front of me, her eyes on the floor.
