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IT WASN'T ALARMING AT ALL GETTING AN URGENT PHONE CALL FROM PHYLLIS TO HURRY HOME. Not at all. Why would that be alarming? Besides the many reasons, like a house fire or Phyllis was bleeding out on her floor. But why would Phyllis call her instead of the fire department, or an ambulance?
The birthday was thirty minutes away. Phyllis has been gone almost all day. What could have gone wrong? These questions filled Evelyn's mind as she climbed the many sets of stairs up to her shared apartment. Her heart was going wild in her chest. Her feet were aching.
Her door was wide open when she reached her floor. Panic settled into the pit of her stomach like a block of ice. Slowly, she approached her door. "Phyllis?" she called out, reaching out to push the door in. "Oh, God. Walter?"
Right before she stepped over the threshold, she noticed a large stain. It was white and fluffy, and looked a lot like icing. "We're in here," Phyllis called out to her. Evelyn stepped over the mess, the panic slowly melting away. "Where's here, Phyllis?"
"The kitchen," Phyllis answered. She sounded sad. Evelyn walked through the living room to enter her kitchen. On the counter with a fresh bowl of food was Walter, and beside him were several messed up cupcakes. Evelyn immediately grimaced upon spotting them. "I dropped them," Phyllis explained. "I'm sorry."
It was then that Evelyn noticed the redness to her cheeks. Her shoulders deflated. "Jesus, I thought you burned the house down... or was dying," Evelyn tried to joke, brushing back some of her hair. "It's okay. We'll take the good ones and just save them for Meredith. I'm sure they taste great."
On a separate platter was a decent looking quantity of cupcakes. They were already wrapped up and everything. "Why– Why'd you call me freaking out?" she asked, her brows lowering over her eyes. Phyllis sniffed, feeling guilty. "I feel awful, so I was going to ask you to bring the cupcakes to the party while I cleaned up. I didn't want them to be late—"
"Clean up?" Evelyn parroted. "You made them. You can't be late." Her hands found purchase on her hips. She didn't know what was making her suggest this. She didn't want to clean up someone else's mess. Maybe it was the guilt that riddled her features. Phyllis really did look like a kicked dog. "Why don't you take them? I'll clean up."
The older woman stood up abruptly, her head shaking. "No! You asked me to clean up after myself," she argued. Walter smacked his lips, looking between the two with his one eye. Evelyn shook her head. "You did clean up after yourself. You had an accident, and that's okay." Phyllis continued to shake her head as she wrung out her hands in front of herself.
