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Katie propped the bottle between her legs and the cork came out
with a pop.
“Seriously, though, thanks for having me over.” Jo sighed. “You
have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this.”
“Really?”
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” Katie asked.
“Act surprised that I wanted to come over. That I wanted to bond
over a bottle of wine. That’s what friends do.” She raised an
eyebrow. “Oh, and by the way, before you start wondering
whether or not we’re actually friends and how well we know each
other, trust me when I say that yes, absolutely. I consider you a
friend.” She let that sink in before going on. “Now how about
some wine?”
The storm finally broke in the early evening, and Katie opened the
kitchen window. The temperature had dropped and the air felt
cool and clean. While pockets of mist rose from the ground,
rolling clouds drifted past the moon, bringing light and shadow in
equal measures. Leaves turned from silver to black and silver
again as they shimmered in the evening breeze.
Katie drifted dreamily on the wine, the evening breeze, and Jo’s
easy laughter. Katie found herself savoring every bite of the
buttery crackers and sharp, rich cheese, remembering how hungry
she once had been. There was a time when she’d been as thin as a
heated strand of blown glass.
Her thoughts were wandering. She remembered her parents, not
the hard times but the good ones, when the demons were
sleeping: when her mom made eggs and bacon, the aroma filling
the house, and she’d seen her father glide into the kitchen, toward
her mother. He would pull aside her hair and kiss the side of her
neck, making her giggle. Once, she remembered, her dad had