Five Shadows

Chapter Thirteen

Two weeks after Simon left, I came home, hoping to find a shadow, but got something even better. A phone call from my beloved Gwen. "Gwennieeeeee!' I yelled into the phone. Her giant laugh spanned the states between us. She was in the room as far as I was concerned. "Wait, wait, wait!" I fiddled with my phone, practically dropping it in my effort to punch the "video" button. She was still laughing, head back, mouth open when I finally saw her.

"No rush! I'm not going anywhere!" she yelled. As far as I could tell she was in her apartment alone, and I was in mine, but we were yelling as though we were front row at a Black Keys concert. "I miss youuuuu!" she hollered at me. 

"No, I miss youuuu! Tell me every single thing. Right now."

"First of all, whaaaa? Look at you, fancy! You look amazing!" She flipped her hands around like she'd burned them. "I mean, but your hair!"

"I told you I went a little darker!"

"Too dark, Nore. It's too dark."

"Is it? I was scared of that. I'll lighten it back up when I get around to it." Gwen always could get away with telling me things nobody else could. She launched into stories about her new job, hobbies, friends (that last one hurt. It just did.) She was so flipping happy. Which I wanted. Of course that's what I wanted. Though I was embarrassed when she asked what was new with me and I came up short. There was a time I would have told her about the shadows, but it wasn't appropriate anymore. She picked up on my sudden somberness.

"What? What's going on?"

"I just miss you so much. I'm lonely." There. I'd said it. You're over there making a million friends and living your dream life and all I have to report is that my succulent died, I thought. She looked downward.

"I'm lonely sometimes too."

"Oh, whatever!" I teased, "You're Little Miss Popularity over there!"

"Ha! Please! I've met nice people, but nobody knows me, knows me. Like. They weren't there for my first rusty car. They weren't there when I cried myself to sleep when Austin Morrison asked Lydia Stewart to prom. Or when Heath Ledger died."

"That was a dark day." We nodded at each other sadly.

"Anyway, they have potential, but they'll never know my roots."

"Gwennie?"

"Nore?"

"My dad wants me to visit." She inflated one cheek with air, raised her brows and waited for more information. "And the stinkin' stepdad invited me to Thanksgiving." Now she smiled just a little.

"You looking for advice?"

"If it's what I want to hear." I half-joked.

"Go to Thanksgiving at Tim's." I stuck my tongue out at her. "Your dad is trickier. How are you feeling about him these days?"

"Same as always."

"Out of habit or actual anger?" Ugh.

I waffled my head left to right. "Dunno."

"Yeah. Me either. Maybe figure that out. Then make a decision?"

We talked a bit longer. I told her about Little Cut's tattoo, about seeing Carol off-hours, that Eric was dating a girl. By the time we hung up, my heart was as full as it had been in weeks? Years, maybe. When we said good-bye I had enough adrenaline to clean my apartment and make a grocery list. When I went to bed, I had a text from Gwen. She sent a gif with a throbbing heart that said, "Miss you!" Her text read, "So good to talk to you. I needed that. You seem so happy and that makes me happy. Love you!" More heart emojis.

My spatula pajamas were extra comfortable that night and I slept like a log, with only the issue of my dad and Thanksgiving weighing me down.

*

When I was little, my father was a workaholic. He worked for a bank, in wealth management. I loved him, but only because he was my dad. Not because he coached my softball team or took me out for ice cream, or played board games with the rest of the family on Friday nights. Just because you're supposed to love your dad. Gwen's parents would take us to the movies or out to dinner. I even tagged along on some of their family vacations. We did not go to the movies or dinner. We did not go on vacation. For as much as my dad worked, we didn't seem to have a penny to spare.

Except one time. We did go out to eat at a sit-down restaurant one time that I remember. Abby had a friend over, and she came with us. It was a surprisingly good time. My mom and dad talked and laughed and scolded Eric when he threatened to start a food fight. Then my dad motioned for us to huddle up. We all leaned in as best we could over the table. He instructed Abby and her friend to go to the bathroom, then straight out to the car, Eric was to follow, then Mom and I. He would bring up the rear. "This!" he said proudly, "Is what you call 'dine and dash.'"

We did as he asked. It worked. In the car, mom looked out the window the entire way home. Abby couldn't look up from her lap. She never spoke to that girl again as far as I know. So we shouldn't have been surprised when he was arrested for fraud and embezzlement. But I guess we still were.