“Abby? What’s wrong?”
I can only make out a few words between gasping breaths– “mean,” “bitches,” “stupid,” “pharmacy.”
“Okay, slow down,” I say soothingly. “Take some deep breaths.”
I hear a rattling inhale, followed by something somewhere between a hiccup and a sob.
“Can you come here?” she manages to choke out.
“On my way,” I say without hesitation, rising from my chair and swiping the keys off the hook by the door.
“Will you stay on the phone with me?” she whispers.
“For as long as you want,” I promise.
She doesn’t say anything else, intermittent sniffling the only indication that she’s still on the line.
I don’t know why I do it, but I fill the silence with live updates on my location.
“Okay, I’m on Third now.”
“At the stoplight in front of the coffee house.”
“Turning onto your street.”
“Okay, I just parked.”
I bring the phone up to my ear, not ending the call until she opens the door. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen, her cheeks blotchy from crying. I step through the door and wrap my arms around her.
We stand there silently for a few minutes, until she’s no longer shaking. When we settle into the couch, she takes a deep breath and recounts her trip to the doctor, and the subsequent stop at the pharmacy.
“They ruined it,” she whispers miserably, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “This was supposed to be such a special day for me, and they ruined it.”
“I can bribe the police chief into giving them annoying traffic tickets,” I offer, smoothing her hair as she lays her head on my shoulder. “One mile over the limit, rolling stops, not using their blinker. Anything and everything they can think of.”
“You can’t use your powers for evil,” she says, sounding like she’s got a major head cold. “You’re too good for that.”
“I’d do it for you,” I shrug. “Morality has its exceptions.”
“You’re the best,” she says with a watery chuckle. “Thank you for coming over.”
“Always.”
“Will you…” she begins tentatively. “Will you stay? Being in this house alone is awful on a good day, and today was awful, and I just can’t handle being alone.”
“You know I will,” I nod. “I won’t go anywhere.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, barely audible.
She squeezes my arm before disappearing down the hall and returning with a pillow and blankets.
“Is the couch okay?” she asks nervously. “I would offer you the spare room, but I’ve been sleeping in there. I can’t bring myself to sleep in our bed. Not by myself.”
“Couch is perfect,” I say, taking the bedding from her. “Couch, floor, bathtub–I’ll be wherever you want me.”
“I’d like to see you try to sleep in the bathtub,” she says with a hollow laugh. “Your knees would be up to your chin.”
“Who knows, it could be the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had.”
