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“Is she waiting for you?” She peered beyond my shoulder, still blocking the entryway.
Mrs. Casablancas was a distrustful woman, though I had a nagging feeling she hadn’t always been this way. Zeta was as tall as treetops and as glamorous as the sun. She had given up her career in Milan to move here with Dylan’s late father, Doug, after meeting him on a night out in New York. Someone who up and left their entire world to enter someone else’s couldn’t be a person with trust issues, right? Something had made her the way she was today. I couldn’t recall one time I’d seen her happy. Growing up, I’d always assumed she missed her family in Italy.
“Uhm, well, not exactly.” I shivered, drenched to the bone. Mrs. Casablancas made no move to let me in. It stung, because she used to love me like a daughter. Used to braid my hair and laugh at things I said (most of them weren’t jokes, but still).
“Dylan is pregnant. It’s not good for her to get too excited,” Zeta explained.
“I just want to apologize.” I bent my knees, not above begging.
“For what?”
Screwing your son.
“Our…misunderstanding five years ago.”
Her gaze lingered on my face, fingernails drumming on the old wood, their sound pleasant but unnerving. She sighed. “I’ll go check if she’s accepting visitors.”
“Thank you.”
“If I don’t come back in three minutes, leave.”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise.”
The door slammed in my face. I proceeded to dance in place in an attempt to dodge the rain. Spoiler alert—it did not work. The Casablancases’ house was a twenty-minute walk from mine, nestled at the foot of the tree-covered mountains. The place was a far cry from the pastel-colored historic structures of the street my family resided on. This felt more like a cabin in the middle of the forest. A great spot for a murder-mystery plot.
Pacing, I wondered if there was even a point in sticking around. I knew my former best friend. If holding a grudge was an Olympic sport, Dylan’s neck would break from all the medals.
A minute passed. Then two. Five minutes melted into seven. The rain fell down harder, in thick sheets. God, what was I doing here, soaked to the bone, pining for a childhood friendship that had collapsed in a spectacular fashion? This was silly. It had been five years. It was time to let go.
Not yet, Callichka, Dad chided in my head. Have faith.
Shut up, Dad. You were an atheist.
Seven minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty.
Twenty. Whole. Minutes.
“Sorry, Dad. She isn’t coming out,” I murmured. I took one last look at the Casablancases’ cottage—dilapidated, the rotten wood wet and sagging, yellowish windows, and a rickety front porch.
I tried, Dylan. I really did.
I put the dish down on the first step, turned around, and walked away. A screeching sound assaulted my ears. An old window cracking open.
“Calla Polina Litvin, you are such a quitter.” Dylan’s head popped through the window in her attic. Her dark locks danced in the wind, thick and glossy. She was waving a white shirt in her fist. A white flag? “It’s like that time we went to the regional hockey finals and you bailed ten minutes in because there weren’t any hot players.”
“Hey,” I yelled back. “No one on that rink was over a six, and you know it.” I stabbed a finger in the air in her direction. I remembered that day. I had left because Dylan was clearly PMSing and needed cake, not eye candy.
“Whatever, Dot. We were fifteen. It’s not like you were going to reproduce with one of them.”
“Did you stare at me through your window to see how long it’d take me to break?” I squinted, somehow still unable to be mad at her.
She mimicked zipping her lips and throwing the key out the window. I pretended to catch the imaginary key and tossed it back to her pointedly. She “unlocked” her lips and sighed in defeat. “Ugh. Fine. Yes. But in my defense, I hardly have any source of entertainment these days. I’ve watched everything worth consuming on Netflix.”
I pressed my lips together, fighting a smile. “May I come in?”
She rolled her eyes. “Guess so. It’s high time you say your piece.”
“Actually, I am pissed. You let me stand in the rain for twenty minutes and watched?” My mouth hung open in disbelief.
