Since she’s started cleaning up her things like she’s done talking to me, I pickup my oversized tie-dye tote and slip out of her office door into the chilly lobby, only to smack into Melissa.

I feel like I rock backward more than I should, and too slowly, without feeling anything like surprise, as her cocoa face lights up like a solar flare - a mini nebula.

“Oh my goodness! Alicia! Fancy running into you today! This is just perfect luck.” She pats my shoulders eagerly with both hands and again I feel like I’m reeling and moving in slow motion as she trills shrilly, “You know, I don’t usually work this office but I had to deliver some overdue paperwork for Miss Ginger cuz the girl who normally does that is out sick. Poor thing, she’s got an awful cough and she just looked so frazzled. I told her she had to go home for the day. No use burning herself out and spreading around little germs. It gets to be like a zombie apocalypse when anyone in the office has something catching.”

She’s already grabbed my arm somehow and is leading me out of the building, all the while giggling between short breaths that seem to be way too far apart.

Does she breathe through her skin?

“Are you heading to lunch by any chance? I haven’t eaten anything but a stale muffin all day because I was running behind when my phone died. You know, my battery life always says I have like ten hours left and then I never do. My husband says it’s because I always leave the wifi running but I don’t see why that should have anything to do with it. Normally he just wakes me up if my alarm doesn’t go off since he’s already up anyway, but he and my son are in Florida for a hunting trip, and they even took the dog, so there was nobody home to shake me out of dreamland. I mean, it’s fine anyway since our Clifford is too strong for his or anyone else’s good. I can’t even walk him, God bless the little devil.” 

She stops talking for a whole 0.2 seconds as she points her car keys at a little key lime green Scion iQ, and opening the passenger’s side door, drops her briefcase on the seat before grabbing a little purple tote almost identical to mine.

“Our lovable little werewolf dragged me half a dozen feet once when he saw a squirrel, and he wasn’t even full-grown at the time! 'Not again,’ I said. I told my husband 'I can walk Chihuahuas, Yorkies, Dachshunds, and Pugs,' but if he wants to keep getting and training these big scary police dogs, they’re gonna have to be handled by somebody bigger than me.” 

She sighs, her little eyebrows in the middle of her head, as she feels the need to defend her ‘Clifford.’

“He’s not a mean thing. He’s a sweetheart really, and he’s usually well-behaved, but he’s just too strong for me when he gets excited, and I’m such a tiny thing I can’t do anything to control him, you know? He’s my husband and son’s responsibility now. Drigo walks him in the mornings before school, Miguel when he gets home from work. But now everybody’s gone, and I hate eating alone!"

I’d legitimately almost forgotten she’d mentioned food at all, and find myself laughing a little, though I'm not quite sure why, as she hugs my arm with a sort of amused pout.

“Do you like sandwiches?” I smile slightly, “There’s a sports bar nearby that makes really good burgers…”

“You don’t mean ‘Buck’s?’” Melissa waves her hand lightly, "Goodness girl, I’ll be up to my ears in red meat when my guys get home. Get me something a little lighter. Please! They’re too good at the game for this girl’s health, though I admit I’m not doing myself a lot of favors with the amount of cream cheese I consume in a week. But we have to make some allowances, and that allowance is for cream cheese over red meat any day. Ugh!" 

“Not that it’s too bad, you know,” she pats my arm, shaking her short curls in a way that reminds me of Shirley Temple, “It just gets to be a little much. I mean, we don’t really need a deer apiece even if I wasn’t such a little thing. Sometimes, I think they’re prepping for an apocalypse they haven’t told me about. Probably because I talk too much, and it would complicate survival.”

“Well, if an apocalypse is coming, I suppose they’re honing some useful skills to have,” I smile a little slowly. Something like…relief? Like a lightening sensation ebbs in my chest. Like the shadow doesn’t want to be pushed back, but can’t help the sunshine encroaching on its domain, however slightly.

“Are children allowed to actually hunt though, or do they just watch?”

“Goodness, I don’t know the rules,” Melissa laughs, “My husband does. But he spends a good deal of time working with the police, so I sure hope he’s not breaking any laws. If he does, I had nothing to do with it, that’s all I'm saying. I’m a loyal wife, but remembering rules has never been my forte. Sometimes, I’m not sure I can even read, my eyes zone out so fast any time I try to read the terms and conditions on ANY website. To be honest, it’s a wonder to me that neither of them ever comes home with a hole in their foot, they’re both so skittish about loud noises on a day-to-day basis. But I guess it’s fine. It’s just bonding, you know? It’s their daddy-son thing, so I don’t get in their way.”

I try not to think of Kat.

Somehow Melissa still seems to notice my expression, and her smile gets a little smaller for a fraction of an instant before she blinks quickly and suddenly starts smoothing my hair and admiring my dress with almost electric enthusiasm.

“Gooidness, your hair just looks so stellar today! I used to wear my curls just like that but I cut them when…well, I cut them before my Drigo was born. You almost make me jealous though, with those looks. And this dress too! It’s so sleek. Where on earth did you find it? It looks just like new. All my things always get faded so quickly, and I never know why. My washing machine is cursed.”

“I’ve just not worn this one often,” I laugh again, and it feels like mood swings, or dichotomies - something - somehow - but I can’t help but laugh - and I’m happy and sad both at the same time. 

Like a layer of frosting on a bed of broken glass.

Somehow, I manage to tell her without collapsing into an inefficacious little puddle, “My resident dandy would be horrified. I’ve managed to keep him from knowing I own anything with pleats for this long but…”

Melissa’s laugh seems to echo mine but mixed and remastered with more body. “Well, he’d be daft to complain. You look so gorgeous in everything. It’s a miracle to be born with a pretty face. You look sweet enough to eat. Ohh, but I’m still hungry. Anything particular you fancy? You’re not feeling sick in any way, or need a ‘pick me up’ treat?”

I don’t even know what to say.

Somehow, it feels like all the chatter is a sort of glazed-over way of worrying. Asking questions without ever intruding into my privacy if I don’t want to talk.

But I want to talk.

My tongue searches my mouth for some kind of reply.

That isn’t a lie.

Because I don't want to. This time.

“I’m not quite great,” I laugh a little breathlessly - the closest to playing pretend I’ll let myself-

“I’m tired,” it comes out before my thought process even completes itself. “I didn’t have the best night and I wasn’t home until pretty late.”

“Oh goodness, what happened?” she asks with big, worried eyes, that only seem magnified through her giant cat-eye glasses.

“Someone I know was having a pretty rough day,” I shrug-sigh-laugh all at once, all uncomfortably, feeling like a leaf in the wind.

“Ohhhh, poor thing,” Melissa pouts, with a sort of babyish motherliness. “I hope she feels better soon…”

Mmm.

I just bite my lip and try to smile. 

I should change the subject, but she does it for me, patting my arm with a sweet smile.

“Don’t forget to take care of yourself though, alright? You can’t lose this girl,” she pinches my cheek too hard, and smiles, not so brightly, but genuinely. “So let’s have ourselves a nosh, yeah?”

With that, she’s back to her bubbly, bright, effervescent energy, “I can suffer burgers if that’s what you’d like. I’ll just eat all your french fries.”

“We don’t have to get burgers,” I smile slightly, gratefully. “Whatever works for you is fine with me. Maybe wings? Or salad?”

“Ugh! Anything but salad! I'm not a squirrel or a supermodel,” she laughs, hugging her arms with a shudder. “I’m partial to Greek food if you’re willing to try it.” 

She waves her hand like she’s wicking away steam, rolling her eyes at herself, “Feta, olives, seafood. I could live off of olives if somebody let me. But my husband’s allergic to shellfish and my son is a brat, so we never go out for Greek.”

She laughs again, with that same defensive air to her teasing, that I know is somehow just another way of her bragging about her family.

“Ogh, I’m kidding. I’m kidding. He’s a sweetheart really, but he sympathizes with his daddy so he won’t eat anything Miguel is allergic to - hasn’t since he was 5 years old. It’s like he resents the food itself for my husband’s quirky immune system. Drives me up a wall!” 

She cackles like a little parrot, and I smile despite myself.

“That sounds sweet.”

“It is. It is.” she sighs with satisfaction, “They have a lot of fun together, and I’m glad. My hubsy used to work too many hours before, but he just up and decided to change jobs when the baby was born so he could have more time for him.”

Somehow, suddenly, the laughter seems to mellow without the light growing any dimmer as she squints through her glasses with a warm smile that makes something stir uncomfortably in my chest.

“It’s crazy the things a baby will do to your brain, honestly. My guy used to be such a workaholic, but as soon as our Drigo was born, he was obsessed. Couldn’t do anything but talk to the baby, take him to his soccer games, and teach him about hunting and cooking, and football and ugh!” She hugs her arms around herself with something between a shiver and pure delight, “If he doesn’t worship that child! He’s almost a golden calf…”

Her smile is almost as contagious as the shadow trying to regain its territory and I feel the warmth radiating from her into me but not without a twinge of something heavy, akin to jealousy…but not quite.

I wonder if I’ll ever h…

Jeez…

I feel my face start to burn with hurt and embarrassment, and I stop that train of thought before it can get rolling - try to laugh it out, as Melissa smiles at me apologetically.

“I’m sorry. I’m being boring. We’re only a few years apart, so I guess it feels weird for you to hear me talking about husbands and kids.”

“Not really,” I have to resist the little twinge of bitterness reminding me that it’s normal-

Normal for other people.

To have already been married - been mothers long before now. Before me.

“I’ve been friends with a woman old enough to be my mom since I was fourteen, so I’m pretty used to it,” I laugh slightly, watching the pouty frown wrinkle up Melissa’s face as she shakes her head at me.

“Don’t age me like that. At the very least, I’m still resisting the gray.” 

“Sorry sorry,” I raise my hands defensively, “but I honestly don’t mind, really.”

To be completely honest…

I watch her smile start to spread, and I know instantly with a cold dread that she’s about to ask me about my love life-

I’m…

Tired of lying. Sneaking. Playing dirty.

But I promised that…ugh!

I feel bad for pretending I don’t realize she was planning to say something as I turn suddenly toward a coffee shop on the corner and say, as if I just noticed its presence, “Oh! coffee! Could we stop to get something hot to drink before lunch? I really need something to give me some energy…”

I hate coffee. 

But Melissa seems to completely forget everything else, clapping her hands twice like a kid on Christmas day.

“Ooh! Yes yes! Let’s go. I haven’t had my fifth cup yet today!”

Congratulations, Kat…

This is the first new friend I’ve made in as long as I can remember, and I’m here tricking her for the sake of a secret…

I find…

I hate myself a little more every day, thanks to you.