Five Shadows

Chapter Eleven

When Eric called that night, I wasn't even a little surprised. "Abby put you up to this."

"Yup."

"I'm not doing Thanksgiving."

"I figured. You never do Thanksgiving."

"Because I hate everyone. Except you and Abs."

"You like Margot and Joanna. And even Tim a little, right?"

I grunted. "How's the attorney?"

"Good. We're going out again tonight."

"On a Monday?"

"People need dinner on Mondays too."

"You better be careful, or you're going to fall for this girl." If I knew my brother, he was playing a video game as he talked to me. Or balling up paper and shooting hoops into a wastebasket. A crinkling noise confirmed my suspicions.

"So I can I sign you up to bring your cranberry fluff?" I could practically smell the sour juice of the cranberries in my processor. Did I even still have my food processor?

"To Tim's?"

"Well, I didn't mean you should bring it to Dad's cell. People get knifed for less than cranberry fluff in prison, you know." He was joking, but it fell flat. "Yeah. To Tim's."

"Ugh. I don't know. Let me think about it." I pictured him nodding.

"Sure. No pressure. Except I haven't seen you in a thousand years. And I dream about that cranberry fluff. And you and Abs are all the family I have. And we're all the family you have. But you know- whatevs."

"Ohmygosh. Go get ready for your date."

Another crinkle and a tinny thunk. "Yeah, yeah. Alright. Talk later."

"Talk later."

I paced about my apartment for a while, picking up my phone. Laying it back down. I ate a bowl of cereal, laid my clothes out for tomorrow. Clearly, I would need to go shopping if I was going to keep up this sense of style thing, but I pulled out my funeral dress and figured a jean jacket would lighten it up a little. More pacing. It occurred to me I was waiting for a shadow. Can I call shadows? Another question I should have asked. "Do you have a paging system or morse code or something?

"Hello? I'm looking for a shadow? Any of you available?" My refrigerator hummed and someone down the hall shut their door hard. "No? That's cool? I'm fine!" Pitiful. I was desperate to think about something besides Thanksgiving. I smiled thinking about Little Cut's new tattoo, but it only reminded me of my own. I looked down my shirt and saw it over my heart. E. L. in handwriting I thought I'd want to see every day for the rest of my life. Before I realized grief has no end. Tipped downward, the three prongs of the E would be prongs in my heart. It would hurt a lot less, I was sure.

No word from Gwen again today. I recognized that myanger toward her wasn't anger at all, but boredom and loneliness. I huntedaround the kitchen a bit, but didn't find my food processor. I supposed I gaveit away. The search wore me out and I slipped back into my spatula pajamas, thrilled it was dark early and I could to go to sleep.