I sit on Faye’s couch, a cup of hot cinnamon apple tea in my hands and my mind running through a million thoughts. She lives with her grandmother, her Abuelita Mariana, the person who has made the tea and has given me a dozen hugs since I walked through her front door.
Abuelita Mariana hasn’t seen me in months (she made it clear she wasn’t happy about that as she spouted off in her native tongue), but I’d forgotten how much I loved coming here. Have you ever been to a place that you wished was home? A place that’s cozy, comfortable, and free of judgement? That’s what it’s like at Faye’s. Her abuelita is so hospitable and is always making sure I’m fed, hydrated, and happy.
In the short hour I’ve been here, she’s made me a turkey, avocado, and provolone quesadilla, provided a grapefruit Jarritos, and then made some tea to ease my stress. Apparently, she can feel my anxiousness, but even so, she hasn’t said a word about it—at least not directly to me. And it’s not like she can ask me personally—she doesn’t speak much English, and what she does ask of me, she directs to Faye, who translates for both of us. Still, there’s something about Abuelita Mariana. I’ve known her since I was a child, and we’ve always understood each other without saying a single word.
When it’s nearing nine p.m., Abuelita Mariana murmurs something to Faye as she slowly pushes out of her recliner.
“Buenas noches, Willow.” Mariana plants a kiss on my forehead. She smells like roses. I smile and wish her good night as Faye assists her. Several minutes later, Faye returns to the living room.
“Still nothing?” she asks, plopping down on the sofa beside me.
“Nope.”
She huffs. “You know, when you said he was violent, I thought you were being dramatic.”
“Why would you think that?” I laugh.
“I don’t know. You tend to overreact sometimes.”
I place a hand on my chest. “I tend to overreact? This coming from the woman who cried because she couldn’t get a ticket to the Taylor Swift concert in time?”
“Hey—that was going to be an amazing concert, bitch!” She fights a smile, slouching back. “Anyway, do you think we should go find that crazy guy of yours? He can’t be far, right? He doesn’t know a damn thing about Charlotte.’
“No.” I shake my head and sip my tea. “He’ll come back.”
“What if he kills Garrett, though?” she asks, eyes widening. “Would he really do that?”
“He promised me he wouldn’t.”
“Is he good at keeping promises?”
“Surprisingly…yes.”
“Hmm. Well, even if he doesn’t hold to that promise, you have an alibi. You’ve been here all night. And, technically, he’s like a John Doe. They’ll find prints, but his name won’t be in any of their systems. He doesn’t exist here.”
“Are you trying to justify him killing someone?”
“Well, it’s not like Garrett doesn’t deserve something coming to him.” She folds her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me he was being aggressive with you before?”
“I don’t know.” I lift a shoulder, shrugging. “I guess I just felt like it was small in comparison to everything else I’ve been going through.”
“But that doesn’t mean you deserve that, Willow.”
Silence surrounds us. I look toward the bookshelf, at the collection of Babysitter’s Club books lined on the second row. Faye’s favorite childhood books. Her comfort reads and the books she turned to when she didn’t want to face reality.
“I think I let it go on because it made me feel something, you know? Even if the feeling wasn’t good or healthy, I still felt something, and it reminded me that I was alive. After Warren disappeared, I swear I thought I was going to be numb for the rest of my life, Faye. So, I guess I clung to that feeling. Wanting it to be something, even if it hurt.”
She studies me, brown eyes glistening in the light. “I get that.” Her head drops, and she tugs the sleeve of her shirt down to conceal the scars on her wrist.
I grab her hand, giving it a squeeze. “We all have our demons, right? We’re all just trying to make it.”
“Cheesy as fuck hearing that out loud, but yeah. You’re absolutely right,” she agrees.
I release her hand, laughing and placing my tea on the coffee table.
“I just can’t believe out of all the people in the world, it’s me dealing with all of this with Caz,” I go on. “Surely there’s someone out there who is much more qualified to deal with universal hopping and Cold Tethers.”
She shrugs. “Apparently the universe chose you. Literally.”
My phone buzzes in the back pocket of my jeans, and I lean forward to pluck it out. At the sight of Garrett’s name on the screen, my breath catches.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Willow.” Caz’s voice is deep and laced with exhaustion.
I spring off the couch, rushing to a corner of the room. “Oh my God, Caz. Where are you? What did you do?”
“Interrogate me later. I’m on my way back to you.”
“Do you know where to go?”
“I’ll figure it out.” The line goes quiet.
In a low voice, I ask, “Did you kill him, Caz?”
He’s quiet for so long I think he’s hung up. I check the screen, and the seconds are still ticking by. He’s still there.
“Caz…”
“No,” is all he says, then the phone beeps. He hung up.
I turn to Faye, who is already looking at me with questions swirling in her eyes. “I need a ride back home.”
