Jessie doesn’t ask before adding a dollop of almond milk and stirring it to a creamy brown. Rain types away at the windowpanes. The kitchen is otherwise quiet, lit only by the iron chandelier over the stained wooden island. It’s new, probably crafted by one of Jessie’s sculptor friends. They are always gifting each other pieces that other people pay tens of thousands of dollars for.
“Did I wake you up?” Nelle asks, nodding to Jessie’s bathrobe.
“No, I just thought I’d spare you the sight of my tits. Lena’s spending the night.”
“Oh.” Nelle draws back instantly. If James isn’t here, and Jessie has someone staying over ... She sets down her tea, prepared to make up an excuse to leave.
“James is out, if he’s the reason you came,” Jessie says. She sips her tea.
“Oh,” Nelle says again. She can barely hide the disappointment that swells her chest, tinged with unexpected relief. “This late?”
“He’s in Georgia, for his mom’s birthday.”
“Why didn’t you go with him? Isn’t she your aunt?”
“I try to avoid Lincoln at all costs.” Jessie opens a bag of cookies. “Plus, someone’s gotta pay the bills.”
She dips a minicookie in her tea and sinks her teeth into the softened part. Maybe she sees Nelle ogling the bag, because she tilts it forward.
Nelle takes one, dipping it in her cup. When she nibbles, cinnamon and shortbread swirl on her tongue in a mellow concoction, and she relaxes.
Jessie folds her arms. “Why are you here, Nelle?”
“I want to see James,” she admits. She opens her mouth to continue, finally remembering the speech she has practiced a thousand times, but Jessie cuts her off with the tip of an antique silver stirring spoon.
“And what do you think James is going to say?” She waves the spoon around emphatically. “Do you think he will begladto see you?”
Nelle swallows, but it doesn’t make the knot in her throat disappear. “I ... I thought he might be.”
“Do you not realize how upset he was after what happened between you two?”
Nelle feels her defenses snap up. Of course she understands that he was hurt, but he lied to her. He told her he would travel with her, that they could see the world together, all the while crafting a life for himself in New York and springing it on her as a fully formed plan. It still seems too coincidental that themomentshe learned she can write for herself, he bailed.
“And he doesn’t complain about this part, don’t get me wrong,” Jessie says, “but it pisses me off that you went and spentallhis savings on a summer fling, just to dump his ass the minute the money ran out!” Red flushes her cheeks. She breathes in and out, her anger deflating.
Nelle is an empty shell.
Was I really too close-minded to care about him wasting his savings?
Tears burn.How did I not see it?
You were playing with life like it wasn’t real, whispers a voice in the back of her mind.
“I’m sorry,” Nelle says, and it’s all she can manage. Her tears speak for themselves.
Jessie melts. “Come here.”
Nelle collapses into her arms and falls apart, shuddering on Jessie’s shoulder. A hand rubs her back, up and down. How could she have been so stupid for so long, running from James instead of straight at him? This is where she belongs.
“You’ll be all right,” Jessie says. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”
Nelle’s eyes are so swollen now, she can barely see the time on the stove clock. She squints. It’s almost 1:00 a.m. She pulls back and wraps her shaky fingers around the mug. A space heater in the corner puts off oven-level warmth.
“I can find a hotel,” she says, and she hates how pitiful she sounds.
“Absolutely not,” Jessie snaps. “You can take James’s room. Bathe if you’d like, and I’ll find you clothes.”
Nelle follows the orders without question. She scrubs her skin until it’s pink and clean, washes her hair, dries off, and puts on the clothes Jessie left folded outside the bathroom door, a frilly pajama set fit for a nineteenth-century grandmother. Nelle loves it. She is envisioning herself in the bathroom mirror, in this new life, when the door cracks open.
