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1
EDEN
Wine sloshed out of the glass, splashing my hand as I swayed my hips to the music. It was loud, but that didn’t matter. Not out here in the middle of the woods.
I bought this house for the privacy. After spending most of my life in small apartments, living below or on top of someone I always had to consider, I bought myself the space and peace when I could afford it.
Space to be loud. To be unapologetic. To get sloppy drunk with my friends without wondering if my neighbours would call the police for being too loud. Too rowdy. Too — something.
“Hurry the hell up!” Vi called from the living room. I glanced over my shoulder, my open-concept living room/kitchen putting her in my view over the island. She was sitting on the red wine spot Imani made on my cream carpet thinking I wouldn’t notice. But I noticed. It was hard to miss the way she danced to the music with her eyes closed, arm raised, with her glass in her hand. The same wine was all over the front of her shirt. It was catching her red-handed, though she still tried to pretend the stain was one I would miss if she bullied Vi into sitting on it all night.
Vi was likely the only one she could bully into the task. She was the smallest of us. Her bush of dark curls only made her seem that much smaller. Her big hazel eyes and array of dark freckles only added to the look of innocence that was accurate most of the time. She was dancing to the music, her head tilting back and forth and a wobbly smile on her face as her eyes closed and she swayed. She was beautiful, but all my girls were in their own way. Olivia had that adorable innocence to her that always put her at the end of Imani’s bark. Imani likely pointed and Vi just went, too Vi to argue.
Laughter left me as I shook my head.
There was no better sound than my girls in one place, all having a good time. It had been too long. That thought made me smile as much as it made my heart ache.
The unmistakable sound of a glass toppling filled the air. It was followed by the hush of whispers as the four of them scrambled to clean up the new mess they’d made while I was still busy pouring my third… fourth… no, fifth glass of wine. Wait, no way. That couldn’t be right. Third.
My face pinched, head tilted as I stared at the ceiling trying to count out the night.
The first glass was in my hand as the car pulled up. The girls had all jumped in Alicia’s car in Toronto and drove north out to what they referred to as the sticks. They carpooled, knowing full well no one would leave tonight. Hell, they probably wouldn’t leave tomorrow either.
It was the weekend.
Vi, Alicia, Sarika, and Imani all left their lives in the city hoping to let off some steam with no responsibilities. Partners were hugged, children were kissed, and jobs were told — politely — to fuck all the way off until Monday morning.
A pile of books sat in the middle of my driftwood coffee table. The initial plan was to have some wine, cuddle up on my couch or chairs, and dive into some books. It was supposed to be the start of a boozy and unhinged book club. We needed something outside of the routine that was determined to bury us. With our love of a good book — hell, even a bad book if the characters were scrumptious enough — this made sense.
Instead, we got right into the wine. We reminisced about what Imani kept referring to as our hoe days, and I was having trouble remembering what else we’d gotten up to.
The second glass was… when Alicia admitted that Vi’s boyfriend — the one she’d been dating for over a year — wasn’t shit.
There was something about being in the company of my girls that loosened lips, erased filters, and brought back the young women we used to be. Add alcohol to the mix, and the night always got wilder than intended.
Okay, Eden. So, that’s two glasses.
A high-pitched squeal came from the living room that made me jump. Wine sloshed out of my glass and I moaned low as it made my bare thighs sticky. “What?” I hollered.
“This is my jam!” Imani yelled.
“You said the last song was your jam.” I could practically hear Alicia roll her eyes from where I stood.
The image made me smile.
“And it was,” Imani retorted easily.
“I brought a Ouija board!” Vi’s excitement had me turning, glass in hand and strutting out to the living room.
Imani snorted, hands on her hips. She was this bright light that could never be stifled. Her tight kinky curls were a beautiful halo around her head, curly bangs covering brows she refused to get done since they couldn’t be seen. Her thick lashes covered light brown eyes, her features sharp and angular. Her brown skin was the flawless kind I wished I could accomplish but it would likely take me hundreds of dollars in products and visits to the dermatologist to even get close. She was thin on top, with long arms, but her hips and thighs were heavy. She murmured something under her breath in Somali before she shook her head. “You know we don’t mess with that shit, Vi.”
Ignoring her, Vi dropped to her knees by the table and opened the box. “Mess with what?” She pushed her thick curls behind her ear. Her light brown skin was red around her cheeks, a clear sign the alcohol was getting to her. The brush of freckles across her nose was hidden by the deepened colour. Hazel eyes were glued to the box as she read the instructions.
Who the hell needed to read instructions for a Ouija board?
“Ghosts, hoodoo, spirits… all that noise.” Imani crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing the board over Vi’s shoulders like it was some wild thing that would reach out and bite her.
I laughed but was hard-pressed to agree with her.
