It was the last time they would toss for the shower, the last time they would decide together what to wear, the last time Lorraine would snitch a spray of Zoë’s favorite cologne, and the last time they would try to outmaneuver each other for the best view in the mirror. Well, it wasn’t really. They would visit each other, of course, but somehow that wasn’t the same. Although, Zoë couldn’t help but think, if Christopher had his way, they wouldn’t even have that. She shuddered.
Lorraine made scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast. She sang as she cooked, as if the unburdening of her worries had released the music in her.
“You’re going to make someone an obnoxious wife someday,” Zoë said.
Harry Sutcliff walked into the kitchen, sniffing the air, and sat down at the table. “I’m surprised you found anything here to cook.”
Lorraine laughed. “I didn’t. I brought this with me. Someone had to clean out the fridge.”
“Well, you’re a great cook,” he said, pulling a plate of toast toward him.
Lorraine passed him the butter. “It’s survival. You know Diane can’t cook squat. Anyhow, the way to a man’s heart, you know. I’m practicing my skills on you.” She winked at him.
Zoë was amazed to see her father blush. He smiled shyly down at his plate and looked years younger. Such a small thing, Lorraine’s flirting, yet it lightened his heart for a moment. Perhaps it was a glimpse of the boy Mom had fallen in love with that she saw. If I could learn to make him smile, she thought, it would be easier for us.
He left right after he ate, because he wanted to get some work in before he went to the hospital. The girls lingered over the cleanup. “He works so hard,” Lorraine said.
“Yeah. Bills, bills, bills.” Zoë’s voice was gentle. She felt more compassion for the man she had seen a glimmer of this morning, different from the rigid stranger who had been around for weeks.
Lorraine washed while Zoë wiped dry. Their last minutes ticked away, and Zoë still held a secret from her closest friend.
This is my last chance, she thought. But what do I say? Lorraine, there’s this vampire, and I said I’d help him kill his brother, who happens to be a vampire too? It’s that little boy you talked to. He almost murdered you. Oh, no, I don’t know how we’re going to do it. I’ve left that up to him. If I tell her that, she’ll freak.
What could Lorraine do, anyway? She was leaving today. She couldn’t tell Diane not to go—not for that reason. Diane would have them both locked up. Lorraine would worry herself sick all the way to Oregon. Zoë couldn’t do that to her.
But what am I going to do when he comes back? she thought. Can I tell him I’ve changed my mind?
“Daydreaming, Zo?”
Zoë started. “I guess so.”
“About a boy? Oh, don’t look so surprised. I can tell a hickey when I see one.”
Before she could help it, Zoë’s hand went once more to her neck. She blushed. “I—”
“I know,” Lorraine interrupted. “You met some cute boy, and before you knew it, you let him go and nibble your neck, even though you hardly knew him, and then you didn’t tell me because you thought you were being slutty. I was biting my tongue all last night so I wouldn’t ask. Honestly, Zoë, you’d think it was a crime. You only live once. Is he cute?”
Zoë nodded, afraid to speak.
“Are you seeing him again?”
“Yeah.”
“Good grief, shut up. I can’t bear to hear you run on at the mouth so much. Never mind. I’m just pissed you didn’t tell me. But I know you. As soon as you’ve mulled it over long enough, you’ll tell me—’cept you’ll have to write this time.” Lorraine suddenly looked solemn. “Promise you’ll write, Zoë.”
“Of course, silly.” Zoë shook her friend’s shoulder gently, relieved to change the topic. “Huge long, intricate letters about absolutely everything.”
Lorraine sighed. “I can see I’ll have to buy a dictionary.”
“It’s only Oregon,” Zoë said, amused at her private joke. “I can visit.”
They put away the last dishes, Lorraine collected her belongings, and they walked to Lorraine’s house to meet Diane. They went slowly, hand in hand as they had done when they were eight years old.
When they got to the house, everything seemed to speed up. The car was almost fully packed, which Diane was glad to point out to Lorraine, Zoë noticed uncomfortably, but they helped to squeeze in the last few bags. Diane made a fuss about positioning her guitar safely, while Lorraine looked increasingly annoyed.
“The good thing is,” she whispered to Zoë on the other side of the Toyota, “she can’t play it while she’s driving.”
They scoured the echoing house for anything left behind and found nothing. Finally, they couldn’t put it off any longer. Diane sat in the car, impatiently jangling her keys, and Lorraine had to get in beside her.