Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part I: 

I’ll close my eyes

then I won't see

About a year after the porch . . .  

“You’re getting back kinda late, huh?” Patty looked up from her book. Allison, a confused frown on her face, hung up her jacket and wordlessly moved to the kitchen. It wasn’t her normal mood. “Hey, what’s with you?” Patty called after her.

“Oh, um, nothing?” Allison replied as though she hadn’t even heard Patty the first time or didn’t even realize she had been sitting there on the couch when she walked in.

“Where’ve you been? I thought you had the lunch shift today?”

“Oh, right, well, Renée wanted to talk to me, so we got a drink.” Renée? Patty liked Renée well enough, but as Allison’s lawyer, her news wasn’t often the pleasant kind. No wonder Allison looked beaten down.

“I thought all that probate stuff was done?” For someone with next to nothing to his name, Kevin's finances were a big pain in the ass that Patty had thought were finally resolved.

“It was . . . it is . . . this was something else.” Allison shrugged it off and she moved around the kitchen, first looking through the fridge, then grabbing a glass.

“More shit to deal with?” What else could there be? As far as Patty knew, any and all things involving Kevin were done, including Kevin. From a legal perspective, Allison could choose never to think about him again. Patty hoped she would. From any perspective.

“No . . . No, well, it’s probably nothing. It’ll probably be nothing.” Allison had the tone of someone trying to skirt the truth. Patty wasn’t used to it. Since Allison had come home, she had, as far as Patty knew, told Patty everything. It was both comforting, and, as not everything had been pleasant, more than a little difficult. But Patty was the one Allison came to with her shit. It was the least Patty could do. Probably. Given how much shit she'd provided over the years.

“Okaaaay,” Patty said, dripping with sarcasm. Usually that worked, but if she expected Allison to be more forthcoming in the face of skepticism, it wasn't in the cards today.

Instead, Allison took out a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard and poured a glass of it on the counter, tipping into her mouth and gulping most of it down in two large swallows.

“Help yourself.” Patty said, eyes widening.

“I will,” Allison said, between gulps. 

“Hey! Hon! Slow down. Seriously, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing," Allison said, not looking up and pouring a little more.

“Well at least let me join you. You know I hate being sober alone.”

Allison cracked a smile as she looked up at Patty, and she pulled a glass out from the cabinet, pouring another glass. Patty missed the days of sharing the lip of the bottle, but there was something about plotting crime that made people dispense with the formalities. When did the two of them get so civilized?

“Thanks,” Patty said with a genuine smile, as Allison handed her a glass and sat down on the other side of the couch, plopping her feet up as she always did. Patty was ready for Allison’s toes to start poking at her, but it didn’t happen. Instead, Allison curled her legs back up under her and left Patty to stare, confused.

“What?” Allison asked.

“Aren’t you gonna kick me?”

Allison laughed nervously. “I don't always kick you. I—”

Patty raised an eyebrow. But there was nothing further.

“So what’s with the sudden binge drinking? What did Renée tell you?”

“Mostly we were just catching up. That’s not it.”

“Then what happened with work? Was it Sam?”

Allison looked down. 

“Did Sam say something to you?” Patty didn’t know what Sam could say anymore that would bother Allison this much. But they had a history, and a history could hurt. 

“No! What would Sam say?”

“I don’t know! You used to .  . . “ Patty wanted to say date but she knew that wasn’t right.

“Fuck in the back room?”

Patty flinched a little. Sometimes she still had to get used to the casual swearing that Allison had picked up. From her, mostly. “I wasn’t gonna say that.”

“Yeah, but that’s always what it was. How did we get on this?”

“You’re actin’ weird.”

Allison let out a breath. “I’m—it’s nothing, I’m over it.” Allison continued to look at Patty, like she was far from over it. Whatever it was. 

Patty straightened up and turned toward her. She scooted over, putting a hand on Allison’s knee, “Seriously, though, if there’s something, . . . you can tell me, you know?” Patty didn’t think she really had to say that. Basically, since that moment at the anniverserager, hadn’t Allison always told her? Well, almost always. Even when she probably shouldn’t have?

Allison looked down at Patty's hand on her knee. Was she blushing?

Patty’s eyebrows furrowed and she lifted her hand, only to have Allison quickly grab it, which screwed Patty’s features up into an even tighter frown. This was all dangerous territory. Patty knew it. Allison hadn’t done this kind of thing since those early days, back from Keene, when she was overflowing with relief, and shock, and maybe every emotion she hadn’t let herself feel in years. Those days were hard for Patty, but she understood. She kept it together when Allison was close to her like that. Like, close. It was what Allison needed. And it faded. Or Patty got used to it. But mostly . . . it faded.

But now, as Allison’s fingers intertwined with hers and Allison looked at her like . . . like what ? It was hard not to react. Patty’s feelings were still in there, after all. They may have been buried again, as deep as she could get them, but they were always there.

“Did you mean it?” Allison asked, looking down at their intertwined hands. “Out there on the porch? Did you mean it?”

Patty could pretend she didn’t know what Allison was talking about. She could say yes. She could say I meant we could die together but I didn’t really want us to be alone. Instead, she said nothing.

There were a few moments of silence, like Allison was waiting to make sure that Patty would not respond. “I love you,” Allison said. 

It was like a punch. Right in the diaphragm, knocking the wind out of Patty. The words Patty had always feared. The platonic I love you. It was the death of any hope Patty might have. Because if Allison could say it so easily, then she couldn’t mean it like Patty meant it. And Patty knew for certain it wouldn’t come out of her own mouth so smoothly like that, her voice normal. Even if Patty sometimes had wondered if it might be easier to get it over with—to say it and suffer the consequences. She was too afraid she'd get . . . this. And here she had it anyway. 

Patty understood that her face must look appalled because Allison said next, “I mean it,” and squeezed her hand. 

“Yeah, I know,” Patty decided to say, unwilling to leave Allison hanging. She could never leave Allison hanging on anything. “Me too,” she added, which was as close as she could get right now to saying the words. “Me too,” she repeated, for good measure, keeping herself from patting Allison's knee dismissively. 

Allison just looked at her again—her trademark pleading eyes aimed right at Patty's own. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Allison hadn’t asked that since those first months—sometime in the deep winter, and Patty didn't know what to say. She knew she couldn't say no. She was, as far as she knew, incapable of telling Allison no. These days.

“I mean . . . you don’t . . . I don’t have to, it’s just . . . ” Allison sounded pathetic. Desperate. A small pocket of anger expanded in Patty, she could not tell where it was coming from, but she knew she felt it.

Patty tilted her head. It’s just what, Allison? her mind asked. But she didn’t want to say it that way, even if she wanted to know what Allison meant. 

“It’s just that it always makes me feel better when you . . .” Allison’s voice broke off and she stopped, looking like she’s had some kind of epiphany. And not necessarily a good one.

. . . hold me. Patty mentally finished for Allison. Allison used to finish that sentence, she used to say it all the time. Sitting up in bed, shivering, recounting this or that dream—sometimes Kevin’s eyes bulging as he pounded the wall, his face melting as flames leapt around him. The dreams were bad then. Not forever. But for a while. Long enough that Patty spent more than a few nights with Allison’s head burrowed into her neck or pressed, wimpering, into her chest or . . . fuck it. Patty tried to repress an exhausted sigh that bubbled up at the memory. 

“Patty?” Allison made clear that Patty, once again, had not answered. Not quickly enough, anyway.

“Yeah.” Patty nodded. Of course you can.

—

Later, as Patty wrapped her arms around Allison, who had returned from the upstairs apartment wearing an oversized t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, Patty knew that Allison wasn't snuggling up against her purposely to make her feel this way, the way she always did—on edge, like any sudden move might reveal exactly what she was thinking—that Allison wasn't being malicious or manipulative. She just found this comforting, maybe in a familial way, wholly non-threatening. But Patty also knew that Allison could never have given her actions much thought, because, if she had, she wouldn't do this. Because she knew. She was smart (most of the time). She had to know. Regardless, it didn’t really matter. Patty must hold her breath steady, keep counting to a hundred in her head. A thousand. Recite old nursery rhymes, maybe Boston sports championships, by year and MVP . . . whatever might work. Patty would have to keep it all to herself.

As these thoughts flew through Patty’s brain, Allison reached out to grab Patty's hand and run it through her own hair, a silent request—Allison's non-confrontational way of asking—and Patty had always obliged. It was a professional act, right? She played with hair all day, after all . . .

“Hmmmm,” Allison said in response, rather dreamily, like she was finally being mothered the way she always needed to be. Patty could not imagine Allison's mom ever doing anything like this. Maybe her dad did, maybe Diane—but definitely not her mother. “Thank you,” Allison said. By the time Allison fell asleep, Patty's hand was shaking.

Patty thought this phase was over, she thought they were fine. Alone together. Separate beds, separate apartments, for the most part. Dying, sure, eventually, but not quite yet. This . . . this was too damn hard. This couldn’t start all over again. 

—

In the early morning, Patty woke up to the sun reflecting off her vanity mirror, the light hitting her eyelids before she was willing to open them, and she felt that she was not alone. When she opened her eyes, there were Allison's large eyes staring back at her. She noticed Allison's hand was still wrapped around her own.

If Patty thought Allison might look away and drop her hand, though, she was mistaken. Allison remained there, looking.

Patty wasn't sure she had a voice this early in the morning, she needed a cigarette, and she was afraid if she spoke now, nothing would come out. Or the wrong thing might slip out. Her stomach was knotted into a ball. And Allison was still there, looking.

Then Allison's hand was reaching up to Patty's face and brushing her hair back, diverting it from falling over her lips. She picked at a few strands that were stuck. There was no reasonable explanation for such a move. “Patty,” Allison said, softly.

And Patty managed to find her voice. “I need to smoke,” she said quickly, and rolled off the bed away from Allison, not looking back. She was out in the living room by the time she heard Allison's questioning “Patty?” And then she was out the door a moment later, no longer able to hear if there was a follow-up.

A few days later

The salon had been pretty empty. It was a Tuesday, and Patty had no appointments scheduled after 3. She decided to clean up, go home early. But she knew Allison had a dinner shift today and going home early just to sit alone didn’t sound appealing (as it usually did). Their schedule had been like that a lot lately—at cross purposes—and they hadn't spent much time together. The other day seemed like a freak occurrence, and as much as it had disturbed Patty's peace of mind, it wasn't . . . well, it was nice, too. Mostly. In a slightly masochistic kind of way. In the days since, when they did cross paths, Allison didn't act differently. Or at least Patty didn't think so.

Instead of leaving, Patty decided to pick up her book, and she was reading in a salon chair when her phone rang. Allison probably, she figured. Maybe she would stop by before her shift. Or maybe she didn't have to go in and she'd want to get dinner.

But when Patty looked at the screen, she was surprised that the name was not Allison. And she didn't recognize the number. Frowning, she answered.

“Hi, Patty?” came the voice, questioning, and . . . possibly familiar?

“What's . . . up?”  Patty asked, not entirely sure how to react (or certain of who it was).

“It's Renée. Donnelly.” Oh, okay. Good. Patty feared it might be someone else . . . someone she hadn't seen in a year and had no desire to talk to . . .  They sounded remarkably similar.

“How, um, how are you?” Patty asked, hoping it was polite.

“I'm good,” Renée said quickly, “Would you like to grab dinner sometime?” 

Patty was confused. “Do you need to talk to Allison about something? She came back the other day saying something might come up . . . ?”

“You mean the will stuff?” Renée sounded confused.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Renée paused. “No.”

“Was there anything else with that?” Patty wasn't sure how to make conversation with Allison's lawyer. She had done it a few times, but the phone was harder than in person, and Patty didn't want to talk about the one thing they did have in common.

“No. Not sure what Allison was talking about.” The continued confusion in Renée's voice only served to confuse Patty further. Then why did she want to go to dinner?

“But she did see you the other day? You talked?” Patty was starting to wonder if Allison was just bullshitting her, trying to avoid whatever had actually happened.

“Oh, for sure.” Renée didn't hesitate.

“Okay.” Patty had no clue where this was going.

“Hey, but, anyway, would you like to go?”

Patty had almost lost sight of what the question had been. “Well, if there’s nothing to talk about—”

“I want to take you out, Patty,” Renée cut in, with emphasis, “I’m asking you out.”

“You—”

“I like you. In fact, I waited until everything was over on purpose. Otherwise it didn’t quite seem right—even if you weren't my client.”

“Oh.” That was . . . not something Patty had seen coming.

“So?” Renée said, expectantly.

“So what?”

“Will you go? Do you want to go?”

Patty wasn’t sure what to say. If she expected anything from this conversation, this wasn’t it. If she expected anything from life, this wasn’t it. She knew she found Renée attractive. Who wouldn’t? She knew Renée dated women. She was Tammy’s ex (which was weird enough). It hadn’t occurred to Patty in a million years that Renée would have the slightest interest in Patty. Patty wondered if it had occurred to Allison. 

“I–” Patty started, dumbly, but didn't continue.

“No pressure, I just think it would be fun.”

“Yes,” Patty said suddenly. Maybe this was the solution. Maybe this would . . . head off Allison initiating any more sleepovers?

Renée sounded surprised by the sudden agreement, but not unhappy. “Okay! Can you do this Friday? I shouldn’t have anything keeping me late at the office.”

Patty knew Allison was working the late shift at the diner on Friday. Patty might even be able to get away with Allison not knowing. Why she wouldn’t want Allison to know was another question—one she wasn’t keen to think about much. “Yeah, Friday’s good for me.”

“I can pick you up. 7?”

Allison would be out of the house already. Before Patty got home. She could get ready without interruption. “I’ll see you then.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Patty was, too. She thought. It sounded like a good thing.

Why did she feel so guilty?

—

Patty didn't see Allison much in the intervening days, their schedules, once again, were completely opposite. What was more surprising was that Allison didn't appear randomly at her door, or show up at the salon, as she often did, and Patty realized how used to Allison's permanent presence she had become. Enough that it seemed odd when she wasn't always there. Patty started to fear that Allison somehow had guessed the truth—but it seemed like such a ridiculous manifestation of misplaced guilt that Patty dismissed the idea. More likely, that same guilt was overestimating how much time they normally spent together. That seemed much more likely. Patty needed to get over herself. She could be a normal human being going on a date. She didn't need permission.

That Friday

Getting ready Friday evening brought back memories of meeting Tammy at the Vic House. Maybe there was a little less concern that she might actually be walking into a trap—well, she didn’t think Renée intended it to be a trap. The net—if it fell—would fall from elsewhere.

It wasn’t that she had agreed with Allison that they wouldn’t date—it was that they hadn’t talked about it. Never mentioned the concept. One conversation about the break-up with Tammy and nothing again. And Allison would sometimes just rest her head on Patty’s shoulder as they watched TV late at night and say, “This is all I ever need,” in a way that made Patty’s insides flip and ripped her heart out of her chest, all at once. She knew, as Allison knew, that if either one of them started dating anyone—especially Patty, because a man might not notice or care about their closeness—it couldn’t happen anymore. 

So what Allison was really saying was—stay alone for me, Patty. I need you like this. It was a shitty deal. Or a wonderful deal. Depending on Patty's mood. Today, she had flipped from one perspective to the other in rapid succession. This was either a mistake or the best thing that could possibly happen. Or maybe it was both at once.

Maybe this date would crash and burn, and it wouldn’t matter. Allison might never be the wiser. If she found out about it, Patty could play it off like a misunderstanding, a casual outing that Patty hadn’t realized was an actual—well she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. 

The phone rang, jarring Patty from her thoughts and almost sending a streak of eyeliner across her face, derailing a lot of very careful work. She checked the mirror, sighed, and went to pick up the phone from the bedside table. She looked at the screen. Of course. 

“Hey,” Allison’s voice chimed in, impatient, as Patty answered.

“Aren’t you at Bev’s?”

“Oh, yeah. Kinda slow for a Friday. Big football game today at Burncoat. Or something. What are you up to?”

Patty looked around, hoping something would pop into her head. “Nothin’,” she said, instead, helping no one.

“You wanna come by and hang out? It’s kinda boring, and if you’re not doin’ anything anyway . . .”

“Oh, um . . . I was just gonna—” Patty looked over at the vanity, “re-organize my make-up.”

“Patty. Your make-up is as meticulously organized as any I’ve ever seen.”

“But I decided I wanted to switch some things up. See, I have the lipsticks in a certain order, but—” Patty apparently couldn’t shut up when she came up with a stupid idea.

“Hey—why don’t you do it another time and swing by here? We can go see a movie after. I hear there’s—”

“You know, I just got started and if I don’t finish now, everything’ll just be scattered all over my room, and—”

“Okay,” Allison said, shortly, interrupting Patty’s nonsense.

Patty waited for more—another push—some pleading—but there wasn’t anything. “That’s all ya got?” Patty asked.

“If you have something better to do, you have something better to do.” Patty was listening for a hint of resentment, but it sounded mostly like resignation.

Patty expected Allison to come back one more time, especially with the movie idea, because there was no earthly way reorganizing her vanity would take all night. Even with Patty's collection. But Allison said nothing. “Okay then. I’ll see you later—or, probably tomorrow. I’ll probably go to bed early,” Patty added quickly. Why would she invite the chance that Allison would stop by at the end of the night? 

“Yeah, I’ll see ya,” Allison said. “Oh, table’s asking for me, gotta go.”

“I thought you said it was slow?” Patty asked, but Allison had hung up. 

—

Back in front of the mirror, Patty stared at her lipstick, considering whether she needed to swap some things around to convince Allison that she had actually been rearranging anything. Ultimately, though, Patty decided that Allison likely wasn’t paying that much attention.

—

If Tammy had a tendency to dress like a schoolteacher when going out to a nice dinner, Renée seemed to have a different philosophy entirely. She arrived at the door wearing a short black dress paired with a blazer and scarf, which could probably pass muster in court. But when she took the blazer and scarf off, which she did while she stood in the doorway, the dress was sleeveless, with a belt around the waist, cut low in front and even lower in back. In total, it was created, Patty thought, to emphasize how much work Renée must put into staying in shape. She might be worse than Allison, Patty thought, and shook her head. Don’t make comparisons, she told herself. It was already easy to do, and it was a road she didn’t want to go down. 

“You look good,” Patty said as Renée stood there, not entirely sure it was okay to say as much. Their relationship thus far had been friendly enough. Other than a few looks from Renée that Patty hadn’t—until this week—fully understood, there hadn’t been much of a hint. But the smile Renée gave Patty in response to that minimal comment, with the raised eyebrow, and the “you too,” told Patty she had just been holding back for some reason. This wasn’t some new thought she had. This wasn't some whim. This had been there the whole time. The year or so that they knew each other, that they'd been in the same room. That Patty had been oblivious.

Well, fuck.

Chapter Text

Patty had noticed that the table was small when they sat down. But she was being made even more aware of it by the repeated bumping of Renée's foot against the side of her calf. “Oh sorry,” Renée had said the first time, slightly abashed. But then each successive time, she seemed less and less concerned. First it was a shrug. Then a smile with “tight space, huh?” And finally, just a smirk and an eyebrow raise. 

Patty had known a few men that were pretty forward, handsy, unapologetic. But none who were smooth like this.

And as for women, Patty inevitably compared her to Tammy. Tammy was blunt, straightforward. She made clear what she wanted. But she didn't flirt. Not really. Allison flirted, but there was nothing behind it other than an abundance of nervous energy and a desire to get her way. Renée flirted like Allison with the bluntness of Tammy. Patty was—to say the least—on her toes.

“So what did Allison say when you told her we were going out?” Renée asked out of the blue, about to take a bite of pasta. She smiled like she expected to be amused.

Shit. “Oh. Y’know—” Patty equivocated.

“You did tell her, right?” Renée raised an eyebrow again. 

“I was gonna, I just—” Patty knew Renée was a lawyer. And a good one. She cross-examined witnesses in court. Patty wasn't sure why lying was her first instinct. She shut up.

“Patty. I mean, I suppose it doesn't matter. But she’s gonna find out eventually, right?” Renée, for her part, seemed totally unconcerned. And pretty confident in her success. Patty couldn't decide if that was obnoxious or reassuring.

“I'll tell her," Patty said, a little too defensively, "I just—neither of us—” Her hands waved around uselessly, and Patty wasn't even sure where she was going with this. Neither of them were dating and . . . Patty wasn't sure she didn't promise to never date again? Neither of them were dating and  . . . she's been at least halfway in love with Allison since she was eighteen? It was complicated, right?

Renée jumped in, saving Patty from saying something too revealing. “She's been through a lot. I get it. I think she can handle it, though. Won't be long until she starts dating someone, too, I bet. I mean, look at her.” Renée said this with a knowing look, like it's something she's considered more than once. Patty's own look must have been a little too easy to read, because Renée immediately started to explain. “Oh, but, no—back when we used to work together, the men—well judges, opposing counsel, sometimes our colleagues—,” Renée made a face as she admitted this last,”—would get us confused. I realized pretty quickly that it would be more than a little weird to have a crush on my lookalike. You know. But also, I think we looked more alike then. I’ve gotten old since. Allison looks exactly the same somehow.” She laughed. 

“You don't really look alike,” Patty said, considering carefully. What does it say about me if they do? Patty realized too late she should’ve focused on correcting Renée’s impression that she looked old. That also would have had the benefit of changing the subject.

“Well, no, I guess not really. But I dunno, it's still—” Renée laughed and shrugged, “this is great date conversation, isn't it? Why I never considered dating your best friend?” 

Patty pursed her lips. “Well, I mean, I welcome you to give it a shot,” she scoffed. “I'm not sure you're her type.” So far, Allison's type was buffoons and pretentious restaurant workers (okay, so Sam wasn't that terrible, but still). 

Renée shrugged again and smiled to herself, as if something comical had just crossed her mind. “Funny, she said the same about you back in the day, and as it turns out…”

Patty's eyes went wide. “What?” 

“Oh, yeah." Renée drew out the "yeah" with emphasis. "She used to talk about you. All the time. I said you sounded like my type, she said you were straight. Or that she thought you were. Or didn't know." There was a hesitation, as Renée attempted to remember. "I just know at the time it didn't sound promising. Anyway, she got fired before I ever had a chance to meet you. And then I did, eventually. The rest, as they say . . .” 

“Oh.” There was a lot of information in that snippet of conversation, and Patty wasn't sure which part was the most important. 

“So you've been on my radar for a while,” Renée smiled and looked Patty in the eye. “Even if just a distant blip…” Her foot bumped against Patty's calf again, her shoe had dropped to the floor. She left it there. Her face didn’t smirk, she made no reference to an accident. This time, she just kept looking.

—

On the way home, all Patty could think about was how she was cutting it close. Dinner had taken long enough that there was every possibility that Allison would already be home. Would hear them at the door. Would very possibly be sitting in Patty's living room.

Renée could sense the tension, but she interpreted it a different way. Which wasn't entirely wrong. “You okay?” she asked, no laughter in her voice, her hand hovering over Patty in the passenger seat and then landing, friendly, unthreatening, on Patty's arm with a small, unassuming, squeeze.

“Oh, um, yeah, I'm just . . . I suddenly was thinking I left the curling iron plugged in . . .” It was plausible.

“I'm sure you didn't,” Renée said, no fear in her voice, and Patty just nodded curtly, her knee bobbing as she sat and waited for them to turn the corner. 

As they rode up to the front of the house, Patty would see that the windows were dark. No lights in Patty's apartment. No lights in Allison's. She wasn't home. Perhaps it was inventory day, perhaps the Bev's crew all went for a drink. Whatever the case, Patty could breathe easy. Just a little longer and she could pretend she was just sitting at home all evening, fixing her makeup or whatever nonsense she had been spouting to Allison on the phone.

Patty moved to exit the car and there was Renée at the car door, chivalrous, lending a firm, clasping hand to help Patty out. If Patty had expected her to drop it once she was fully out of the car, those expectations were not met. Renée's hand continued to hold hers, her touch lighter, lingering, as they walked toward the door. When they reached it, Patty very carefully extracted her hand to dig her keys out from her pocket. She was very focused on the keys. Even if she could've opened the door with her eyes closed, she was going to concentrate on that lock. 

Then, Renée's hand was on hers, gentle pressure keeping her from turning the key. “Patty.”

Patty moved to continue with the door knob, but Renée's grip tightened around her hand. Patty looked at her fingers—slender, strong, similar to those she already knew well.

“Hey,” Renée interjected. Patty's eyes shot up to her face. “Got your attention, maybe.” She raised an eyebrow.

Patty shrugged.

“So what's up?”

“Whaddya mean? Just tryin’ to open the door.” Patty looked down again. 

“Like your life depends on it.” Renée brought her other hand to tilt Patty's chin back up. 

Patty debated whether she wanted to make an excuse. She had to piss, she wanted to double check that damn curling iron . . . but the look in Renée's eyes made her stop.

“You had an okay time?” Renée asked, nodding, almost for Patty, willing her to nod along. 

“You came out with me of your own free will?” Renée  continued. Patty had to concede. 

“You might even want to do it again sometime?” Renée, as she nodded, leaned closer, her hand still wrapped around Patty's and the doorknob, the other now on her shoulder—

A clanging of metal forced Patty to jump and she went to turn around, but Renée held her still. 

“What the hell was that?” Patty asked, still trying to turn and see. 

Renée looked out to the street. “Probably a raccoon or something in the trash can. Not yours—neighbor across from you.”

Patty nodded again, noticing that Renée held her by the shoulders and was focused on her face—or a part of it. Patty could give in now, it would be simple. Easy. No big deal. And then, Renée didn't let her think it over any more. Her mouth was on Patty's and Patty closed her eyes and just let herself feel it.

It felt good. Renée was good at this, and Patty acquiesced, she leaned into it, slowly pushing Renée towards the door, where, indeed with her eyes still closed, she could twist the key in the handle and open the door into the living room, the screen door slamming behind them. 

Patty didn't remember who shut the inner door, in the end. But when she went out for a cigarette a few hours later, it was firmly closed and the deadbolt thrown.

—

Patty lay in bed, arms and legs splayed, taking up as much room as she possibly could. Renée had gotten up early, explaining that she really did have an early appointment, that she hadn't counted on being here (but she was glad she was here). 

In case Patty didn't believe her and thought Renée was blowing her off—Renée, well, Renée made sure Patty knew she wasn't being dismissive. In the slightest. And they had plans already for later that week.

It was all just as well, because Patty had been hoping to quickly usher Renée out the door at the first sign of light, knowing that Allison would likely be by with coffee at eight, and Patty wanted no chance that the two of them would run into one another. It was bad enough that Renée's car was unceremoniously parked out front. But there were always random cars parked out front. And Allison didn't pay attention to cars, especially if she had no reason to suspect anything . . . right?

Patty didn't feel like moving. She stayed splayed out in bed for about an hour after Renée left, thinking about what this all meant. It meant that she almost definitely would have to tell Allison. Maybe not today, maybe not this week. But eventually. At the very least, Allison running into Renée—which seemed almost unavoidable given that Allison had just seen her, had said that “something might come up”—was a dangerous prospect for Patty. So she would have to say something, and fairly soon. Although, if Patty could be a bit fuzzy about dates, that would be best. 

She wasn't exactly proud of lying to Allison the night before. But . . . it had to be done. Patty hadn't been ready to say anything about something so uncertain, and Allison wasn't ready to hear it in any case. But now the uncertainty had . . . gone away. Maybe not completely, but Patty wasn't an idiot. There was a compatibility there that she hadn't expected. And, although Patty remembered her nerves that first time she went out with Tammy, and her curiosity, and, well, her desire getting the better of her and letting her push Allison out of her mind and go for it, this was different. From the moment that Renée kissed her until Patty sat on the porch in the middle of the night, she hadn't thought about Allison once. She managed to rid her mind of its fixation the way she used to sitting in that side chair at Kevin's house, watching a Pats game. Allison could've been bringing her beers the whole time and Patty would have been able to ignore her existence.  

Maybe that was the solution. After all, a mind devoid of Allison had worked for years until Patty had to go and say something about the money. And bring up years of garbage.

It wasn't that she regretted it. How could she? But it opened wide the door to a cupboard of feelings that Patty had been suffering over ever since. Was it wrong that she saw Renée as a way to lock the cupboard back up again, maybe for good? Wasn't it for the best? How could she and Allison be friends if it was so often torture for one of them? What had Patty decided last year but to take back some control of her own life, seek out what she wanted? And that was working. She didn't want to go with Tammy—Tammy who didn't like her, who only liked the idea of her, the Patty she created in her mind—so she said no. And she didn't need to hover over Neil—who was doing better on his own than he had been doing with her “help.” 

And yes, maybe at the time, what she thought she really wanted was Allison. Allison to come home. And then she did. But Patty definitely didn't want Allison exactly the way she currently had her. If Patty could get her way, she wanted Allison to be around, sure, but to keep some distance. For Patty's sanity. And, most of all, Patty wanted her own feelings to go away. Not to be buried but to disappear. 

This could be the way. It never seemed so possible before. 

—

In the end, Patty lingered over her sad little breakfast and homemade (shitty) coffee about fifteen minutes longer than she normally would, but there was no sign of Allison. Not at eight, not after eight, and not at all. Her mind told her it was yet more proof that Allison wasn't as attached to Patty as she was to her. It didn't matter whether Patty expected her to show up with Dunkies, she did whatever she pleased.

In the end, Patty was late to the salon, and poor Susan Rourke had to be let in as Patty opened up. Luckily, Susie was forgiving and quickly forgot about it, delving into a story about her nephew’s new baby (but why her own sons would never settle down with a nice girl she didn't understand). Patty was preoccupied, and nearly grabbed the wrong tint, but was saved at the last minute by a well-timed comment from Susie on how medium copper golden brown just sounded so glamorous. So Susie avoided the purple hair, by a sliver of luck. But maybe it would have been the excitement she was craving.

Following that averted disaster were a succession of walk-ins that all were rather quiet, and Patty let her mind wander. Allison's failure to show up, yet again, was too much for Patty to ignore. All morning between customers, Patty texted her, as she went through the motions of cutting and styling hair. But she got nothing back. 

In the early afternoon, when Patty got home, there was still no sign that Allison had been there, still no response via phone. It was uncharacteristic, and Patty started to fear Allison hadn't come home at all. Did she stay elsewhere? Was it Sam? Someone else? Was it the person who had upset her so much the other day? Patty thought Allison would tell her, but maybe she didn't really know Allison at all. Maybe there was something out there that Patty just didn't know. That Allison just decided not to share.

Finally giving in after stewing in her living room over a cup of tea for twenty minutes, alternately grumbling and checking her phone, Patty went upstairs. When she opened the door, Allison's face was contorted into the most dubious facsimile of a smile that Patty had ever seen.

“Where’ve you been?” Patty asked, brushing past Allison and sitting on the couch. Patty's glare directed itself at Allison, almost involuntarily.

“Whaddya mean?” Allison returned, still standing.

“Usually I see you before 2 pm,” Patty explained, as if Allison didn’t already know that. As if they didn’t regularly spend Saturday morning together.

“I was feeling like a day in,” Allison said, with no conviction. “Long night.”

“I thought it was slow?” Patty asked, becoming convinced Allison had, in fact, been somewhere else.

“Picked up at the end of the night,” Allison said with a shrug. It all sounded like bullshit. What was she doing? Patty continued to ask questions, and Allison could seemingly do nothing but skirt around . . . something.  

Either she wasn't home, or . . . but Patty couldn’t see how Allison would have figured it out. She wasn’t home yet when they got there. The house was dark. Renée left very early in the morning—there was no way Allison was up already when that happened. How would she know?

“What's with you?” Patty asked, growing frustrated by the direction of the conversation (or lack thereof).

“Just tired I guess. Couldn't sleep.” Allison said it like it was a joke.

“Join the club.” Patty said, smirking at the irony.

Then Allison laughed, a little too knowingly, and smirked right back, giving Patty a stare down that she had rarely (if ever) seen. Sensing there was something Patty was, indeed, missing, regarding Allison's knowledge, Patty started to get angry. If Allison wanted to say something, why wasn’t she just saying it?  

The conversation started to devolve from there, into accusations, until it finally came out. 

“Didn't think I would find out eventually?” Allison said, her voice dripping with accusation. Jesus, Patty thought, she was acting like Patty had murdered someone.

Nevertheless, Patty responded with some hesitation. With Allison, you couldn’t be sure she was upset about the thing you assumed. But Patty couldn’t figure out what else it could be. So she just told her. “Renée asked me to dinner last night.” She crossed her arms and sat back. What was the point in all this?

And all Allison could say was “Why didn’t you just say so?” 

Why didn’t I just say so? Because this would happen. Because Allison was incapable of letting Patty have something for herself that Allison didn’t worm her way into, somehow. Because Allison wanted all of Patty’s attention, but didn’t want anything more. Because.

“We’ve all been to dinner before,” Allison had the nerve to say, as though that were the material point. The eating of food at the same table.

When Patty clarified, Allison got defensive. “Well, I don’t know, if you don’t tell me.” 

“Come on , Allison.” Patty grew frustrated. But she knew this had to happen now. It had to happen sometime. Things couldn’t go on as they were.

And then the moment Patty was waiting for came. Allison went into . . . that mode she had. The one that Patty almost couldn’t resist. “I had thought—” Allison’s voice grew thick with emotion, “I had thought . . .” She was stuttering, but there was nothing behind the words. Something about the two of them being alone. Of course Allison wanted Patty alone. It worked very well for her. Then Patty would always be around whenever Allison happened to need her. 

“But . . . but,” is all Allison could manage to say when Patty set her straight.

“No buts, Allison. I’ve done this for a year. I don’t think I can handle it forever. I don’t—”

“What?” Allison had the nerve to ask what it was that Patty couldn’t handle. As if it weren't what Allison did, or might do, every time they were together. As if it weren't just spending so much damn time together. As if it weren't everything.

"This.” Patty pointed between the two of them.

“What’s wrong with this?” Allison asked. Patty knew she could detail exactly what was wrong. The hand on her knee, the head on her shoulder, the requests to stay over, the need to have Patty play with her hair. But Allison didn’t want to hear it. 

Suddenly, Allison scoffed, her voice went from pain to derision. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were so dissatisfied. Just itching for a relationship…”

Patty froze. What was she saying? She knew, didn’t she? Patty had always suspected that Allison knew exactly how Patty felt, but never had it been so clear. And she could say it in such a dismissive way . . . 

Allison kept going. “What? Why didn't you say anything? How was I supposed to know? We could've talked about it.” 

Patty could barely look at her. She would say this? She would accuse Patty of not saying anything, when this was how it turned out? She knew Allison could be callous, but these were new heights. 

“Look at me.” Patty demanded, causing Allison to stop her incessant pacing in her tracks.

“I’m looking at you.”

“You know.” Patty said, making it clear. Allison couldn’t get out of this one.

“What—no—I didn’t know. That's what I'm saying.” Allison had the nerve to look confused.

“You know, you’ve always known.”

Allison just stuttered again in reply, no match for finally being called out.

Patty just shook her head, incredulous. “I thought I could do this forever, but I can’t. I can’t do it forever.”

“So what’re you saying?” Allison asked, as if this weren’t clearly the end.

“You wanted to die alone together. I can’t do that. I can’t do that with you. I thought I could, but I can’t.” Patty had no reason to mince words. She thought she could do this, but it was harder than she knew it would be. And Allison apparently wasn't willing to make it easier.

“But…but…we’re still friends, right? You’re acting like. . . .you’re acting like we’re breaking up.” For fuck’s sake, Allison.

Allison didn’t want to hear any of this, but Patty was in no mood to give in, despite Allison’s protests. She couldn’t have it both ways. “You won’t be able to just come—snuggle up in bed with me, or whatever. Whenever you feel upset.” Patty figured she might as well say it. Allison needed to hear it.

But Allison just acted confused, like she didn’t understand how she couldn’t have it both ways.

“Never mind.” Patty said, giving up. Allison wouldn’t understand if she didn’t want to understand. Patty stood up, making a decision.

“But, Patty . . .”

“I—I gotta go, anyway,” Patty said. With that, she headed to the door. She tried not to think about whether it was the last time.

“Go where?” Allison asked from behind her.

Patty turned and looked at her. “Does it matter? Isn’t it time you got out there and did something for yourself, anyway? You wanted your fantasy, your dream. All you’ve done is hang out here and work at that damn diner. Get out there. Figure it out.” 

“Do you mean date?” Allison had the nerve to respond. If she wanted to play it that way.

“I dunno, date. Travel. Go back to school. You’ve talked about all kinds of things. You came back here to be Allison Devine. Go be her. Go out there and do what you’ve always wanted to do. No one's stopping you.” Patty waved her hand and tried not to think about it. 

“But I—” Allison said, uselessly, for the fiftieth time.

And Patty walked out the door.

Chapter Text

Renée's house was in a very nice part of town. One that, perhaps on purpose, was well outside the bus route. Regardless, Patty always felt more comfortable going there than she did bringing Renée back to her own place. She told herself it was because it was bigger, and nicer, and Renée could easily drop her off at work. Other reasons for avoiding her apartment . . . were not dwelled upon. Besides, every time she lay back on Renée's mattress, swam her legs through the silky sheets and snuggled under the down comforter, she really thought it was the best possible decision. Maybe she didn't get any more sleep in this bed, but she sure could wallow in her insomnia with no small degree of physical comfort.

That morning, which was a little too chilly to put Patty in a rush to get up, Renée came out of the bathroom in a robe, toweling off her hair, “You want to grab breakfast before work?” she asked, with a smile. “I haven't been to Bev's in ages, and I love their spinach egg white omelet.” Renée laughed at Patty's scrunched up nose, which was, arguably, a great distraction from Patty's attempt to suss out Allison's schedule in her mind from trends and memory to determine if this was a safe idea. She didn't feel she could say no. What excuse would she give?

“Sure,” Patty said, crossing her fingers under the covers. She’d find some wood to knock on when Renée wasn’t looking. “But I'm getting bacon and eggs. I hope it doesn't offend you.”

Renée scoffed pleasantly. “I'll steal a piece of bacon and we'll call it even.”

“Just try it,” Patty said, climbing out of bed and moving past Renée, who kissed her cheek as she walked by. Patty glared and Renée laughed again. 

Once in the bathroom, Patty lightly tapped the back of the wooden door for good measure. Allison didn’t do a lot of morning shifts. Or she didn’t used to. If she did now, Patty wouldn’t necessarily know. She was pretty much always here, with Renée.

The sink, which had been pristine the first time Patty came over, was still fairly immaculate, but slowly, Patty’s accessories had been accumulating on the spacious counter, until Patty came to realize that there was very little extra space anymore. She made a mental note to ask Renée if this was okay—if slowly encroaching on her territory was unwelcome. But, Patty suspected, Renée would probably have some reasonable response like “you need to get ready, don’t you?” and the whole thing would be fine. Things were always like that. It all was, in so many ways, so easy.

On the other hand, not eveything was easy. The mere mention of Bev’s had just caused a squeezing sensation in Patty’s chest. And that wasn't exactly the first time she felt it.

But what difference did it make if they ran into Allison? It wasn’t as though Allison didn’t know. It was very clear that she did. And almost certainly clear that she was unhappy about it. As if she had a right to be unhappy. But Allison could make anything about herself, and maybe it was actually better if Patty showed up to Bev’s with Renée, if only to show Allison how much it didn’t matter what she thought. How much Patty was moving on. How much Patty’s life could revolve around other things besides whatever it was that Allison was doing or thinking. And, likewise, it would be a sign to Renée that Patty wasn’t weird about Allison. (Even if, as Patty suspected, she was. A little.) Perhaps a trip to Bev’s was exactly what everyone needed.

—

As they arrived at the entrance to Bev’s, Renée’s phone went off, which was not unusual, and she motioned to Patty that she’d take it outside, despite the chill in the air.  In the doorway, she gave Patty a kiss for good measure and then hit accept before launching into some conversation about the case she was working on. Patty rolled her eyes, which Renée mimicked playfully, and walked into Bev’s as though she went there every day. There was a time that she was there every day. A time she often wished she could forget. A time when she cared too much.

Patty sat down at a booth in the front, hoping that she’d largely go unnoticed, when Sam came over to wait on their table personally. As he approached, and Patty groaned inwardly, he had a disturbingly cheerful smile on his face, one that seemed to say more than it should have any right to say on a mid-week morning.

“Oh my god,” Sam started, when he was within a few feet, “when did that happen?” As he finished his question, he stared off at the front door of the restaurant. “At this point, I thought it was never going to. She didn’t tell me!”

“Why would she tell you?” Patty furrowed her brow, wondering when Sam had gone nuts. Maybe she shouldn't have left him to himself . . . and Allison. Maybe she should’ve stopped by more often.

“I mean, I guess it’s none of my business, but we—” Sam said, turning towards Patty and away from the door, speaking in a lower voice.

But as he did so, Renée came back in, approaching from behind Sam. She smiled at Patty. “You get a table, hon? Hi—Sam, right?” She stuck her hand out to shake Sam’s, who, as he turned, looked bewildered and a little embarrassed.

“Yeah, yeah, um . . .” Sam held up a finger to say “gimme one second” like he just remembered something really important. Patty looked at him, dumbfounded. Renée looked even more confused.

“Strange dude,” Renée said. “Or did I just startle him?”

“No idea. He seemed to . . . be expecting us?” Patty stared off toward the back room, where Sam had ducked in. 

Renée shrugged. “I realize, I never actually met Sam before. I’ve seen him, but I never spoke to him. Maybe I should ask him what’s good? Maybe I’m missing out on something.”

“Every time I make a suggestion, the fare improves,” Patty said. “But, given your taste, you probably should ask Sam what he thinks.”

Renée gave her another eye roll. “Okay, I will. And I’m ignoring that.”

“He’ll be thrilled,” Patty said, ignoring her, likewise.

Renée laughed. 

“No, I’m serious.”

“I could really use some coffee,” Renée said, looking at her watch, “I probably won’t have time to stop before my first meeting.”

“That still needs work,” Patty warned. “Some days, it’s passable.”

“I guess I’ll take my chances,” Renée returned. “Maybe he’ll be trying to impress me, since this is the first time you’ve brought me here. Use the good grounds or something.”

“You overestimate my influence.”

“Too bad.”

–

Later, after they had ordered and eaten part of their meal, Renée got up to use the restroom. Sam scurried over to talk to Patty as though he had gossip to relay.

She gave him a look as he approached. “What the hell is up with you?”

“I glanced up when you came in—saw the kiss in the doorway, I thought it was—” Sam looked down awkwardly. It was a far cry from the earlier smug smile.

“Thought it was who?”

“Never mind.” Sam looked like he was regretting coming to chat.

“Sam. Talk.” Patty could tell from his face that she was about to win. She usually did.

“I thought it was Allison. So sue me!” Sam’s posture was of someone bracing for impact.

“Oh, fuck you, Sam.”

“It wasn’t an unreasonable mistake.” 

Patty scoffed.

“It wasn’t. How is Allison by the way?” Sam said it quietly, once again acting like it was some kind of secret.

“What do you mean? You see her every day.”

“Not—wait. You didn’t know?”

“Know what?” Patty said it cautiously, trying not to sound too interested. Like there were so many things to know, she just wanted to make sure it was the right one.

“She doesn’t work here anymore.”

“Hmm.” Patty didn’t want to admit she didn’t know that. She racked her mind for some hint that she should have guessed. But she had lost sight of Allison’s day-to-day.

Sam shook his head and looked at Patty with surprise. “What’s up with the two of you? You don’t even know where she works. She still lives with you, right?”

“Above me,” Patty corrected.

“Right. On top of you.” Sam, to his credit, did not smirk.

Patty scowled. “Come off it, Sam. I’m not her keeper.”

“She quit three weeks ago.”

“So?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “So, it’s pretty clear to me that you haven’t talked to her in three weeks. The last time that happened, the phones in every coffee shop in New England were ringing off the hook.” Sam shook his head in disbelief. “This time you’re not even the slightest bit curious?”

“She didn’t disappear,” Patty said, defensively. “She takes her trash out,” she added, under her breath.

“Oh, so you’ve been digging through her trash for answers?”

Patty gave him a look that said this is not a joke.

“Hey,” Sam threw his hands up in front of himself in surrender, “I guess I’m just surprised.”

“Surprised about what?” Renée asked as she returned.  

Sam looked at Patty, as if to say should you say or should I?

Patty turned to Renée. “Just talking about Allison. Sam was surprised that she decided to quit.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know,” Renée said. “What’s she doing now?” Renée directed the question at Patty, who regretted trying to bluff her way through something. Again. She was starting to see that she used that tactic a little too often.

Patty should have realized what would naturally be the next question. She looked at Sam with pleading eyes, who looked confused, right back at her. So, despite vowing to stop bluffing, she made something up. “I think she’s weighing her options.” It was said haltingly, with the slightest bit of derision.

“I may have told her she should get herself out there,” Renée said, looking a little sheepish as she turned to Sam. “Didn’t mean to take away a good employee.”

Patty was surprised at the admission. "When?” If Renée had talked to Allison lately, she hadn’t told Patty. 

“Oh, I saw her a little while back. Right before we started dating. You knew that.” Renée nodded. “I’m kinda surprised I haven’t seen her since then, actually, given how much—” Renée’s voice trailed off, like she wanted to consider what she just realized.

Sam looked uncomfortable—dropped into a conversation that he absolutely didn’t want to have. “Oh, uh, I had better get back behind the bar,” Sam said, hurrying away. Patty watched him until he was there, pouring coffee for a customer who had just sat down. 

Patty and Renée returned to their coffee, silent for a minute. Patty didn’t really want to pick the conversation back up where they left it, and she didn’t want to be the one to change the subject, either. She’d let Renée come up with something. Renée was talkative. She’d handle it.

“You know,” Renée started, and Patty held her breath, “you wanna go to this thing with me Saturday?” Patty let out her breath and actually managed to smile.

“I dunno, I’m busy,” Patty said quickly.

“Yeah, okay. So you’ll go.” Renée nodded.

Patty grumbled. “I really gotta get a life so I can make it more interesting when you ask me to do stuff.” 

“Well you and Alli—” Renée started, but thought better of whatever she had been about to say. “Anyway, it’s my friend Rochelle, she’s having a cocktail party thing. Not a big deal, but there will be people there I’d like you to meet. And it could be fun. Something to do.”

“Tammy’s friend Rochelle?” Patty remembered her as largely non-offensive. But that didn’t exactly mean she wanted to spend lots of time with her. 

“Oh, um, yeah, I guess they are friends.”

Patty didn’t say anything. 

“Tammy moved, though, right? No chance you’ll run into her.”

“You either,” Patty said. Interestingly, she realized that she had forgotten that Tammy had moved. It hadn't even been a concern. 

Renée seemed equally as blasé. “Eh, I’m over it. I’ve seen her again and again. In court, at friends’ houses, bleh bleh bleh.”

Patty took a sip of coffee.

“Don’t worry about it, though,” Renée said. “Couldn't be worse than running into Allison at this point, huh?” 

Patty's eyes went wide. Renée smirked. That woman missed nothing.

—

That Saturday evening, she was there, of course. Because—of course. As if Patty needed to be shown that she wasn’t as cool about it as she pretended to be.

Not Allison, though. Thank god. Though, what she'd be doing there . . .

But Saturday evening, there was Tammy, giving Patty an eyebrow raise as she walked in next to Renée. If she was shocked to see her, she didn't give it away.

Rochelle was likewise unperturbed to see them arrive together, which convinced Patty that Renée had, in fact, told everyone what to expect. Patty started to feel like this party was their little announcement to the world. 

Patty turned to Renée and spoke quietly, barely moving her lips. “Why does it feel like everyone here knows more about me than I do about them?”

“What do you want to know about them?” Renée asked, her voice a normal conversational tone, which earned her a glare.

“So you talk about me?”

“Shouldn't I?” Renée shrugged.

“No it's just . . . I feel a little like I'm catching up.” Patty looked around them, suddenly thinking that everyone might be looking at her.

“I promise I didn't tell Tammy,” Renée laughed. “I saw her give you a look. I'm guessing Rochelle did.”

“That's not even . . . I'm not sure I've . . .” Patty didn’t finish.

“I'm not concerned with the score here. Except to make you feel more comfortable.” Renée took her hand and gave it a squeeze, sincerity in her eyes.

“So how many of these people have you dated?” Patty said, again, trying not to be overheard.

Renée looked skeptical, but answered without protest. “Two.”  

Patty frowned. And it was early yet.

“You,” Renée said, "and Tammy," she added with a laugh. Renée shook her head, still chuckling after Patty gave her yet another glare. She pulled on Patty’s hand. “Come on. Give me the benefit of the doubt.”

Patty mumbled to herself.

Renée caught Patty’s eye, not letting her retreat into herself. “But I can tell you who did date, if you want to know. And who's likely to be awkward. And who had a secret crush on—”

Patty rolled her eyes. “Is this middle school?”

“You can take people out of middle school, but—”

“Okay, I get it.” Patty waved her hand dismissively.

“Anyway—relax. Eat some hors d'oeuvres, Rochelle always has a good spread.” Renée led them towards a sideboard with food.

“Think she has a beer?” Patty asked, desperately wanting one.

“Probably IPA, but yeah.”

“Whatever. I need somethin’.”

Renée nodded and led Patty towards the kitchen. “Done. I'll join you.” 

—

The party wasn’t terrible. The beer was good, in the end, and no one stared at her like she was out of place for drinking it. Rochelle was friendlier than she remembered, introducing Patty to someone from the community college when Renée mentioned off-hand that Patty had talked about maybe checking out nursing school. That led to a discussion that was equal parts interesting and embarrassing. But it was thoughtful of Rochelle in a way that Patty had to acknowledge.

And Renée’s other friends all seemed inclined to like her. If Patty had been afraid she’d seem out of place or otherwise uncultured, no one gave a hint. For the better part of the night, Patty did not leave Renée’s side, but inevitably they were separated, and Tammy managed to take that moment to strike. 

“Didn’t expect to see you,” Tammy said, faking casual as only law enforcement could do.

“Right.” Patty’s smile was forced.

“Okay, so maybe I expected to see you, but I was surprised when I first heard you might be here.”

Patty shrugged. 

“As I bet you were surprised to see me.”

Patty shrugged again. “You did say you were leaving.”

“I . . . may be coming back,” Tammy said, giving Patty a look that was difficult to interpret. 

Patty just nodded slowly.

“Just talking my ear off today aren’t you?”

“Did I ever do that?” Patty asked, wondering what Tammy had been drinking.

Tammy’s smile looked like a wince. “You had your moments.”

“Zero charm,” Patty shook her head. “Which is, of course, your type.” Patty smirked for good measure. Thinking of Renée, Patty realized there had never been a description so off the mark.

That made Tammy smile. “I can’t help myself.”

“I bet.” 

Perhaps sensing a thaw, Tammy suddenly asked “How’s Allison?" 

A moment later, before Patty could answer, Renée came up behind Patty and kissed her on the cheek. The look on Tammy’s face went from smug to shocked immediately. Patty realized that she might have expected Patty to be there, but she apparently hadn’t been told everything.

“She’s okay, I guess,” Patty said, as Renée looked at her with questioning eyes. “Allison,” Patty said, with as much nonchalance as she could muster, and Renée just nodded.

Tammy shook her head in disbelief, looking from Patty to Renée, and then back again. “Really?” she asked, as though she couldn’t help herself. 

Renée’s smile grew big. She nodded. “Really,” she answered, linking her arm through Patty’s. “What’s with the surprise?”

“You know, when I ran into Allison, I would have thought . . .” Tammy was still stuck on Allison, somehow. But ran into her?

“You what?” Patty asked. Renée stiffened, almost imperceptibly, but when Patty looked at her, her face was unreadable.

“Oh, as if you don’t know I ran into her in Keene before she left.” The quotes around “ran into her” were clear from Tammy’s tone. 

Patty did her best to play it off like she understood. Of course she didn’t understand. In Keene? Before she left? “Uh huh,” Patty said.

Renée, side-eyeing Patty, excused herself again to grab a drink. “Do you want one?” 

Patty declined. She wanted to follow Renée, but she also wanted to hear what Tammy had to say. Renée gave her another curious glance as she departed.

Tammy smiled and tilted her head. “You didn’t know. She didn’t tell you?” Tammy was a detective, wasn’t she? Wasn’t that irritating.

Patty had nothing she could say. She was glad Renée had excused herself.

Tammy smiled again, for some reason amused. “I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. I paid her a little visit in Keene before she left. Let her know about Nick, told her I wasn’t going to bring her in.”

This information spun wheels in Patty’s head, but she didn’t know what to make of it. Why wouldn’t Allison have said something? “That’s why you gave me an ultimatum?” Patty said, suddenly putting two and two together. “That’s why you ran away?”

Tammy shrugged. She didn’t look the slightest bit repentant.

“You knew, and you were giving me a choice.” Patty was angrier than she thought Tammy could make her. “But I didn’t know it was a choice.”

Tammy sighed. “Looks like I was wrong, anyway,” she said, looking pointedly over at Renée, who was returning with a glass of white wine. “Nice to see you both,” Tammy said to Patty, and nodded to Renée as she rejoined them. Before walking off, Tammy gave Patty a look that Patty didn’t know how to interpret.

“Well, that looked like fun,” Renée said, turning toward Patty. “I’m probably going to have to dig into that one a little bit more, maybe a few more drinks in,” she said, smiling, with only a trace of bite.

Patty frowned. She wanted to answer quickly, casually throw off a joke that would make it all go away. But nothing came to her. “Well, you don’t have anything to worry about with Tammy,” Patty said, wanting to roll her eyes, but unable to do so.

“Well, maybe not with Tammy. But I’m beginning to wonder if I don’t have anything to worry about.”

Patty looked at her, trying to plead with her eyes without being pathetic. 

“I’ll let it go,” Renée said, matter-of-factly. “You’ve been through some shit. And Tammy can be a pain in the ass at the best of times.” 

Patty smiled tightly, but she knew she wasn’t off the hook forever. Reality was setting in, as it always did, and the easy things within reach suddenly seemed to be slipping away.

Chapter Text

A couple months later

Patty was already a few blocks from the salon and walked quickly for once, knowing Renée didn't have an unlimited lunch break and was—more often than not—unusually punctual when they decided to meet in the middle of the day. 

Patty took out her phone. 12:27. Okay—that . . . worked.  She might even be early. She rounded the corner and, of course, there was Renée, standing outside the restaurant, apparently having just arrived from the opposite direction. 

Renée smiled and as Patty went in for a kiss on her cheek, Renée turned her head and turned it to a full kiss on the lips, deepening it in a way that surprised Patty.

“Well, hello,” Patty said, raising an eyebrow. Renée almost looked sheepish, and looked away across the street before responding. 

“Just relieved to see you,” she said, turning back towards the front entrance, shoulders still a bit slumped.

“I wasn't even late today,” Patty said, a slight chuckle in her voice.

“I know, I know, just—rough day. I need this.”

“I figure food always helps. You need a smoke?”

“Patty. You know I'm tryin to—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Okay. Let's eat.” Renée nodded and grabbed Patty’s hand, leading them into the restaurant, looking back across the street before she went in. 

They chose a seat at the window and ordered some sandwiches. Patty made the effort to start a few conversations, but Renée seemed continuously distracted. 

“What's up with you really?” Patty asked, never having seen Renée quite like this before. She was—generally—incredibly calm and confident. As much as anyone could be. This was disconcerting. With Renée’s fingers tapping on the table, Patty could suddenly see it—”I’m finally understanding why anyone would get you and Allison confused,” Patty said.

Thinking that Renée would laugh, Patty was unnerved to see Renée look up sharply with hurt in her eyes. 

“What?” Patty didn't understand. Weren't the two of them friends, of a sort? It wasn't that much of a put down. “You're wringing your hands like you—” Patty didn’t finish the thought. “I've never seen you do that before.”

Renée looked down at her fingers, clasped tightly around each other, and separated them slowly, looking up. She looked intensely at Patty for a second.  “I'm sorry, I am sorry. I think I'm letting, um, work stuff overtake my reason.”

“It's okay, hun. I'm just—it's unexpected.” Patty figured everyone had days like this. It was just, maybe, the first time she was seeing it. There was a first time for everything.

The server came back over with their food, and once she left, Renée took a bite of sandwich and sighed. “Just me being silly,” she said with a small shake of her head, like she just had to brush something off. “How's your day going?”

“Judi was in this morning. Said to say hi.” Patty had already said so. But she knew Renée hadn’t been paying attention.

Renée smiled this time. “How's she feeling?”

“She said the doctor you recommended got her on some new injection that's really been helping. Something about rheumatoid arthritis.” Patty shrugged. 

Renée nodded, her face relaxing. “I'm glad to hear it. She's a lovely woman. At first I thought she didn't like me, but maybe…”

“That's just how she is at first.”

“Funny that you two would get along so well,” Renée quipped, earning Patty's eye roll. “No. I'm seriously wondering.” Renée laughed. 

“Helped that I was eleven,” Patty murmured.

“I bet you had a glare even then,” Renée returned with a raise of an eyebrow.

Patty grimaced. “It was developing.” She hadn’t told Renée much about her family.

Renée's eyebrows furrowed. “Shit. What did I say?”

“Nothin’. Just a hard age.”

“Oh, sure. I remember when I was eleven,” Renée got a faraway look in her eye, “I was going steady with this boy—” That wasn’t what Patty had expected.

Patty scoffed. 

Renée shook her head. “Well, you know, we held hands. Went to the mall after school. That sort of thing. But anyway, I had such a crush on his older sister.” She had a big smile.

Patty's skepticism slowly gave way to a smile in return. “That's better.”

“Don't get me wrong, he was a cutie, too.” Amusement shone in Renée’s eyes. “I have high standards. But he was a few inches shorter than me. Most guys were, at eleven.”

Patty couldn't relate in the slightest. But she laughed along anyway.  

Renée continued. “He didn't hit his growth spurt for a few years after that. He’s regular height now. Definitely taller than me. Maybe five ten.”

“You still know him?” This was back to scoffing territory.

“He's around. Not really, but I've run into him.” Renée had been staring outside again, but when she looked at Patty’s face, she changed her tune. “No worries, he's married, has like three kids.”

Patty frowned. “What happened to his sister?”

“The real question, huh?” Renée took a sip of water.

Patty nodded and raised an eyebrow.

“Wish I could say we dated in high school or something. But alas…”

Patty set her chin down in her hand, interested.

“She went out with the star point guard on the basketball team. Boy's basketball team. I was the point—well, never mind. By that time I was jealous as all hell.”

“She a cheerleader or something?”

“Nope, shooting guard.” At least she wasn’t a swimmer, Patty thought.

“Awkward.”

“High school was a little confusing.”

“No kidding.” Patty could at least relate to that.

“Happy it's over.” And that.

Realizing she had no idea, Patty asked, “Which high school did you go to? It was around here, right?”

“Holy Name.”

“Ah.”

“You?”

“Burncoat.”

Renée nodded. “I guess I was a few years ahead of you, but I knew some Burncoat kids.”

“Heh, kids.” Patty didn’t feel like a kid in high school. She hadn’t felt like a kid—well, she barely remembers ever feeling that way. And, these days, high school inevitably made Patty think of Allison. The most significant passing acquaintance she made back then. Patty may technically have been out of school when she shook Allison's hand in that bar, but she knew her well enough. Knew of her, anyway. And, well . . . It paved the way for Lisa Fazzolari and all the shit that “friendship” caused to be buried deep within Patty. The idea of Renée being, maybe, just as confused in high school as Patty had been was, in some ways, reassuring. She always gave the impression that she had everything figured out since the beginning of time. Nevertheless, Patty imagined they were in very different worlds. “Ugh, you were probably on the honor roll or something, huh?” 

Renée shrugged. “Mostly.” She wasn't one to skirt the truth. But mostly definitely meant always.

“Hmmph.”

“Would you rather I weren't?” Renée, who seemed to have abandoned her food in favor of watching Patty finish hers, raised an eyebrow.

Patty grunted through a bite of her french fries. 

“Knowing the honor roll kid has its advantages.”

Patty rolled her eyes. Someone to copy homework from? But she knew perfectly well that Renée had access to people and things she could only dream of—there were undoubtedly advantages to knowing her. Ones she should take advantage of, maybe. Except, Patty didn't really know where to start. “Yeah but did you have connections with the school drug dealer—” she started, immediately wishing she hadn't. A little too close to the truth.

Luckily, Renée just laughed. “You might be surprised. I was a good kid, I guess, but I wasn’t living under a rock.”

Suddenly, Renée's eyes darted out the window and quickly back—but not before Patty noticed. Her water glass was mid-air, but she gave Renée a look before turning to see what caught her eye. 

It was Allison. Standing on the sidewalk on the far side of the street. Patty would know her anywhere. From any distance. She set her water glass down.

Of course it was. But who was that with her? Allison went in for a hug, and Patty could feel herself shivering, a scowl on her face, before Allison stepped out of the way and revealed…no, that couldn't be right. Patty was about to remark on it, but then Allison looked over in the direction of the window. She was staring directly at the spot where Patty was sitting. Despite the distance, Patty could tell she wasn't smiling. Her posture was dejected. She stood there for what seemed like an eternity, and it was only a moment after she turned to leave, sauntering down the street, that Renée spoke up.

“She got a new girlfriend?” Renée said it as if she were joking, but there was something behind her words that gave Patty chills.

“I think that was Molly.” Patty hadn’t had a great look at her, but she was pretty sure.

“Molly?”

“The woman Kevin started dating when Allison was gone.” Patty had begun to say it that way. When Allison was gone. Now that Allison was back and would stay back. During that time, Allison was not there, and therefore she was gone. Gone where? None of anyone's business.

“They're friends?”

“I guess?”

“You don't know?” Renée was staring at her now, with a look that Patty was pretty sure would bore a hole in a lesser being. Or maybe Patty was that lesser being…

Not trusting herself to elaborate, Patty simply gave a quick shake of her head.

“When was the last time you spoke to Allison?” Renée asked, as though she were simply curious. 

Patty figured she wasn't likely to get away with anything. This had come up, now and again, and she always dismissed it. But this time she spoke something like the truth. Renée’s tone finally seemed to demand it. “September, probably.”

“September what?”

“Like I know that.” Patty lied.

“I bet you could be very exact if you wanted to.”

“Hah.”

“Patty.”

“So maybe I could.” Patty shrugged.

“When?” The questions weren’t going to go away this time.

Patty, who would have pushed this conversation off forever, decided it was no use. “September 17th, then. Is that exact enough?” Just then, the server came over to clear their plates. Neither had finished, but neither was in the mood for eating any more. The table was empty except for their water, and the server, who looked at both of them as though realizing they were in the middle of something, nearly jogged out of sight.

“Interesting timing,” Renée said, once they were alone again.

“Is it?”

“You know it is.”

Patty pursed her lips but said nothing.

Silence followed for a minute, until Renée spoke up. “Does Allison have a reason to be angry with me?” Renée asked, looking at Patty again.  Perhaps more like the sun through a magnifying glass, Patty thought.

“I don't see why,” Patty said, this time truthfully. What Allison had to be mad about, Patty couldn't fathom.

“Well, I'll say she gave me a very cool reception when I ran into her just now.”

Patty flinched. “You knew she was over there.” 

Renée raised an eyebrow, but didn’t deny it.

“That's why you kept looking over there. That's why you were acting weird.”

Renée crossed her arms. 

Patty continued. “What the fuck did she say to you?”

“Not much, actually. She asked how you were—which should've been my first tip-off, maybe. But I was still dealing with the blow that was her overall attitude.”

Patty frowned, not sure who she should be the most annoyed with. “I don't know what she's so pissy about. If anything, I'm the one who—” Patty began, before Renée cut her off.

“I saw the look she gave in our direction just now. I was wondering something. But I'm starting to understand, finally.”

“Understand what?”

“It's not just that you have a crush. It’s worse than that.”

“What? Where are you getting that from?” It had been months. No Allison to be seen. What was there to discuss?

“It's not just you. It’s her, too. I’m not sure why I didn’t see it. I guess maybe I didn’t want to, but . . .”

“Hold up—we didn't finish addressing your first wild guess.”

“Patty. I'm not completely blind. I knew you looked at her with adoring eyes when you didn't think anyone—well, she—was paying attention, I get that.”

“What? I—”

“It's okay, I've had crushes on straight girls before. I just told you about one of them. I figured it's a lot easier to get over it if you have something real to go after. Someone real who actually is capable of loving you. That way.”

Patty stayed silent. She wished it were that simple. She tried that once before.

“But I expected Allison to be happy for you, maybe even a little relieved, honestly. Who wants to let someone down easy?”

“Someone who prefers to have your complete attention for the rest of their lives and it turns out not to work like that.” Was that fair? It felt fair.

“Patty.”

“What? You weren't there when I told her about us. You didn't experience the levels of manipulation she would go through…”

Renée was silent for a moment. “Did she try to kiss you?”

“What? No!” Renée had quite an imagination.

“Well, then, sounds like it could've been worse.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours. Mostly. Mine, I guess you could say.”

“And what's your side?” Patty felt the hole getting deeper, but there didn't seem to be much she could do about it. 

“The one that wants to get out from between the two of you before I'm completely devastated.”

“Why would you be—?” 

“Well, if you hadn't noticed, I kinda like you.”

Patty glared.

“Patty.”

“Stop saying my name like that.”

“I'll stop when you admit that I'm right.”

“About what? What are you so—”

“I'm not trying to accuse you of anything,” Renée suddenly sounded serious. “It's just—first it was Sam, then it was Tammy, and now it's Allison, and, well, it's you, too.”

“Me? What did I do?”

Renée's face said, “do you want me to tell you?” and Patty made the mistake of not backing down. “Well, we haven't been to your house since our first date, for one.”

“So what? Yours is nicer.” That wasn't rocket science.

Renée rolled her eyes. “Last week we were four blocks from your place and you came up with a bullshit excuse to come back to my place.”

“It wasn't bullshit.”

“You left your toothbrush? We could've both bought toothbrushes at the pharmacy.”

“Waste of money.”

“Not to mention that you probably have a back-up. You would've if Allison needed it.” 

Patty was surprised for a second, that Renée sounded so jealous of someone who hadn't even been around. She didn't respond.

Renée's face changed, as though she realized how her last comment sounded. “Anyway, it wasn't the first time you did it, just the most obvious.”

“What's your point?”

“You two were close—two of the closest … whatever-you-were that I've ever met. And since we started dating, I haven't seen her once. And, apparently, neither have you.”

“Whatever.”

“Any time someone brings her up, you get a look of panic on your face.”

“No I don't.”

“You should see yourself.”

“You're imagining it.” 

“I thought so, maybe, but when you saw her just now…I wish you looked at me like that.”

“But I—”

“You don't."

“I like you. I really like you.” Wasn't that the material point?

“I know you do, and that would be fine, I'd even say normal at this point. I don’t expect— But not when you've got this big unresolved thing brewing that has nothing to do with me.” Renée was waving her hands, the nervous energy back in full force.

Patty decided she could be the calm one. “But you said it yourself, how am I supposed to get over my silly crush unless I find something real?”

Renée was silent for a moment, looking out the window, where Allison had been standing.  “Did you ever tell her?”

“What?”

“Did you ever tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That you love her?”

Patty hesitated. She hasn't said those words. “Kinda.”

“Like, ‘I'm in love with you’ tell her?”

“Umm…” Patty wasn't really expecting this. 

“What did you say?”

“She said it once.”

“Ha!” Renée looked so pleased.

“No, no. Not like that. It was a friend thing. It was—not what you're talking about.”

“Okay. And you said?”

“Umm. ‘Me too.’”

“Patty!”

“She didn't want to hear what I really meant.”

“So you admit it.” Had anyone ever looked more smug than Renée did as she said that?

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, I—I don't want that to be true. Why would I? I'm not insane.”

“Sure.”

“But that woman standing out there—the one that clearly didn't want to see me, the one staring at you forlornly—she needs to hear it before you give up.”

“What? My girlfriend wants me to confess my love to another woman? I'm hearing this right?”

“It'll save me all kinds of trouble down the line. And at heart, I'm a selfish person. I'm doing this for me.”

“What do you get out of it?”

“I either get what I want in the end….or…I'm right.” Renée smiled again, the smugness still there. “I love being right.”

“Okay, so you are insane.”

“Maybe.” Smugness gave way to a look of sadness in Renée's eyes. “But you'll do it. For me.” It wasn't exactly a question.

“What's in it for me? Sounds like a useless way to confirm what I already know.”

“Then so what? Nothing new. No harm done.”

“To confirm it in an especially terrible and hurtful way.” Patty was mumbling again.

“But then your consolation is me. Waiting for you.”

Patty just glared at her.

“You can't lose.” As Renée said it, Patty could see the server approaching gingerly with their check. They had been there a long time, and the woman was dangling it out in front of her as though she'd rather not approach the table. Patty reached out for it and quietly put in on the table beside her, thinking about what Renée had just said.

Patty wasn't dumb enough to actually believe it. No one was that unselfish. No one in their right mind would encourage this. No one would blithely take someone back after this. But it wasn't looking like she had much of a choice. “How about we just forget this came up, I move on, and we go on as we are?”

Renée shook her head. “That I can't do.”

“But why? This is—this has been fine—good! It's been really good, even.” So smooth.

“I don’t want ‘fine’. You shouldn’t either.”

“I said really good.”

“Hell, I don't even want ‘really good.’ I want better than that.”

“Then I don't know what the hell you're doing with me,” Patty grumbled.

Renée scoffed. “Give yourself a little credit.” After a pause, she continued. “Here's the thing. I can't be constantly wondering if you wish you had said something to her. She lives with you. Or I assume she still does, not that I’d know . . . So you tell her now or . . . that's it. Because you know what's better than fine?”

“What?”

“Being exactly where you want to be . . . Doing exactly what you want to do.”

“Hmm,” Patty said, dismissive. Sounded great.

“Have you ever done that?” Renée grabbed the check that was sitting on the table and got up, and giving Patty a last serious look, she turned, heading for the front register.

I tried, Patty thought. And somehow I ended up here.

—

Patty sat on the porch when she got home after work.  It was well below freezing, but Patty had been avoiding the porch for weeks now, and even if Allison were purposely avoiding her, Patty assumed she wouldn't expect to see her so deliberately waiting at the front of the house. She took out a cigarette and lit it up, enjoying what she had been doing her best not to over-do with Renée around. Renée—who was (actually rather successfully) trying to quit. Who was doing a lot better job of it than Patty ever had.

Patty didn't know Allison's schedule anymore, but the upstairs was dark—there were no footsteps, it was pretty clear she wasn't home yet. From whatever she was doing. 

Patty sat there like that, lost track of the number of cigarettes. Was it three or just two? But she went through them, slowly, savoring it. Hoping something would either relieve her of her task, or get her moving. But there was nothing. No one was outside, Allison didn’t appear, and anything Patty needed to do would still have to be done. By her.

As she went back inside, Patty saw that the new mail man had left a letter behind the screen door that she hadn't seen when she first stepped inside. She grabbed it and shut the door, annoyed that she had wasted an evening waiting for Allison, annoyed that she had even tried what Renée had suggested, annoyed at Renée for bringing up ancient history in the first place. 

In the kitchen, she went to grab the bottle of whiskey and thought better of it, heading to the fridge and grabbing a beer instead. Still with the letter in her hand, she twisted the cap off, nearly scraping half the skin off her palm in the process. “Damn it,” she said, out loud, following up with a succession of expletives that had less and less to do with the fucking bottle cap.

She plopped down on the couch and took up the now wrinkled envelope, which she tore open, hearing a plink-plink as something metal hit the coffee table. It was a pair of keys. The upstairs apartment key, and the one to her own lock. 

Patty turned the envelope over and realized all it said was ‘Patty.’ In very familiar handwriting. She tore out the letter inside and began to read. 

Hey -

I haven't been around much, and I was thinking it really isn't fair of me to take up the apartment upstairs, especially since I don't really pay anything. You may want to rent out the whole house, etc, and now you can. I left a fair three months rent (I think) on the kitchen counter now that I have some steadier income. I'm sorry it's not the full amount for my stay, but I'm happy to pay you back.

Once I have a permanent spot, I'll let you know, and you can tell me what’s fair for the rest of the year that I was around. Staying with a friend for now.

Love, 

Allison

Patty read it through and then again, not sure if she understood the first time. Did Allison just go? Patty grabbed the upstairs apartment key and went up, taking the stairs a few at a time, for once in her life, as though maybe she could catch Allison before she left.

But, of course, when Patty opened the door, it was dark. No one was there, and a flip of the lights revealed there wasn't much left of Allison's presence. The furniture remained, of course—it mostly had been there when Allison moved in. But the small reminders of Allison's presence—things scattered here or there—a mug in the drying rack, shoes by the door—were gone, only empty spaces remaining.  

Patty saw the second envelope on the counter, but if she was hoping for another note, with some further explanation, she wasn't going to get one.  All that was there was a check for too much money, too much even if Patty had fathomed asking her for rent. Which had never occurred to her, even in their … rift.  

But why hadn't it occurred to her? It should've, right? It was one thing if Neil mooched off of her until she couldn't take it anymore, but Allison was a grown-up, unrelated to Patty. Who had a job. And yet Patty no more thought about asking her for money than she had with Neil. Less, even, because Neil's presence was like a constant reminder that he didn't hold up his share of the bargain, whereas Allison . . . Well, Allison bought groceries, she cleaned up after herself. She did her own laundry (and occasionally Patty's when Patty let it go long enough that Allison would pick it up and just do it without asking).  Patty might have thought she should be paying her, given Allison’s intense habits of neatness, that trickled into Patty's apartment, too, since Allison was always there. Sure, Patty's apartment was perfectly tidy now, but lately it was because she was never there. There were probably layers of dust that Patty hadn’t even noticed.

Envelope still in hand, Patty sat down on the couch, thinking back to the time that she went through and cleaned the apartment while Neil was living here—worried about Neil and channeling all that energy into cleaning. She was worried about Allison then, too. Dreading, as much as she hated to admit it, the moment Allison would just disappear. And then—sitting and waiting for Neil, as if she could conjure Allison back for a second—there Allison had come, barging into Neil’s apartment, not realizing it was only Patty sitting there. 

And, not to be forgotten, after that—telling Patty she wanted to stay. For that single moment, Patty was so overwhelmed that, when asked if she wanted Allison to go, she didn’t even hesitate. She told the truth. To Allison’s face.

She wished she could tell the truth now, but there was no one to tell it to. Well, almost no one.

She picked up the phone and dialed. It didn’t take long for an answer.

“Hey,” she said. “It’s Patty,” she added, unnecessarily.

“Oh?” Renée’s voice was curious, but not smug. Not confident.

“She moved out,” Patty said, hearing her voice break a little.

“What?” Renée sounded wholly surprised.

Patty didn’t say anything else. She wasn’t sure if she was able to. A noise that was close to a whimper escaped.

“Hold on, I’m coming over,” Renée said, quietly. Patty just nodded silently and hung up.

Chapter Text

A few months later

Patty sat at the bar, sipping a beer, when she saw a familiar face approach from her right. 

“Patty, is that you?” Diane put a hand on Patty's shoulder. “I haven't seen you in ages! How are you doin’ hun?”

Patty, on the occasions, few and far between, when she heard from Neil, would hear an update on Diane, but that was about it. She hadn't spoken to her much since Chuck's funeral, the previous spring, even when Allison was still around. And Patty definitely didn't frequent the packie anymore, not like she had when Allison was really gone. It was different. Now that Diane might have updates to provide, Patty found that she didn't really want updates.

Patty must've made some response to Diane (although she wouldn't be able to tell you what it was), because Diane continued. “You mind if I sit here? I'm meeting someone, but he's running late.”

Patty thought this fact was mildly interesting, but was immediately brought back to the situation and her overwhelming urge (plus the equal but opposite resistance) to ask how Allison was doing. What she was doing. Anything. “Sure,” is all Patty said. “Same.” Well sorta the same. She was meeting Renée after work, in theory. It could be hours. 

“So how are you? What are you up to?”

Patty thought about explaining the courses at the community college that she had been taking . . . and incidentally hated. That she was still running the salon, and she was coming to have a deep appreciation for what she had decided to do with her life. But instead, she said, “Not much.”

“How's the salon?” Diane asked, amicably. It wasn't all that unusual for Patty to have nothing going on, in the end.

“Good,” Patty said. It was good. Since she had realized she didn't actually want to do something else, she had thrown more effort into actually getting some more customers. Ones that weren't there for drugs. It was maybe some of Renée's influence—ambition came naturally to her—but Patty was also working on doing only what she wanted. Renee was all for going back to school. But when Patty figured out that career change wasn't what interested her, when she realized she liked the ladies that came into her salon—she made some effort to find more. Judi had been a lot of help with library resources on advertising and business and just plain old outreach (Patty found that hosting the romance novel book club's chocolate and cheese night did wonders—she could pretend that none of these things interested her in the slightest, as long as she could set up some chairs and give out some free food), but some of it was just a slightly different outlook. Not something to be endured but something to be enjoyed . . . a bit.

Diane chuckled. “I'm gonna be at the book club thing next week,” she said, “at the salon—I saw that and had to sign up.”

“Oh, yeah, okay.” This time, Patty was also giving away free product samples and discount coupons.

“I made the mistake of asking Allison if she wanted to go,” Diane said, chuckling again.

Patty froze again. What had Allison said?

“But you know . . . she's off in Paris or whatever.” Diane waved her hand in a flying motion.

Patty eked out a strained smile.

“That girl is never in one place for long anymore. But I'm sure you know how it is.”

“Hah, yeah,” Patty said, with no clue what Diane was talking about. But there was a pang of . . . not jealousy, exactly, but disappointment that Allison didn't tell her about Paris. Allison had wanted to go there forever. But something seemed wrong about it. It wasn't how Patty had imagined finding out, maybe. Patty desperately wanted to change the subject before her ignorance became abundantly clear. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know, without Chuck, sometimes it's like I don't know what to do with myself. You know, if no one is tellin’ me what to do.”

“Yeah, but—” Patty started, but then decided she probably shouldn't try to guess.

“I'm not sayin’ I don't like it, hun, I'm just sayin' I catch myself sometimes, just waitin’ for someone to shout at me to grab him a beer. To wash his Pats jersey.”

“Hmm. Yeah.” Patty didn't miss that in the slightest. But a brother and his idiot friend was maybe a lot different than a husband of many years.

“You got someone to boss you around though, I heard?” Diane said with a knowing look.

“What?”

“Oh, I'm just jokin', sweets. Allison just said you were dating someone.”

“Oh.” 

“Somethin’ happen?”

“Well, um, we're—we're not—” Just as Patty was about to finish that thought, Renée came up from behind Patty and slung an arm around her shoulder.

“I'm so glad to see you. What a fuckin’ day.” Renée noticed Diane sitting on Patty's other side. “Hello! Didn't see you there. Have we met?”

“Diane McAntee. Allison's aunt,” Diane held out her hand to shake, and Renée took it, shaking it firmly.

“Renée Donnelly. Allison's lawyer. Well. Hopefully she doesn't really need one again anytime soon. But I did help her with a few things.”

Diane smiled. “Of course. She mentioned you.” Then Diane gave another knowing look towards Patty, which made Patty want to shrink in a corner.

Renée didn't miss a beat. “Of course. How is Allison?”

“Oh, you know, flying all over the place. She never gives me particulars.” Diane laughed and looked significantly at Patty again. 

Renée smiled politely. “Of course. Would you like to join us? I think—well, Patty, let me know if you were thinking something else—but I could use a giant cheeseburger or something like that.”

Diane laughed. “I'm starting to see it,” she said, looking from Renée to Patty and back again, “I can chat for a little, but I'm meeting someone here in fifteen minutes.”

“Well then, grab a drink,” Renée said, amicably. “And join us for a little.”

“I'm on the wagon,” Diane said, and Renée gave a nod of acknowledgment. “But I'll grab somethin'.”

So they all sat down, and Patty realized she had to do very little to keep the conversation going. She wanted, on occasion, to interrupt one of Diane's many references and insinuations that weren't quite right, but after long enough, she figured she should just shut up if Renée didn't care about the mix-up. 

Before long, however, Diane was waving to a familiar-looking man coming through the doorway, and running over to meet him. He gave Diane a kiss on the cheek before Patty realized who it was. The blood drained from her face, and Renée, as usual, was quick to notice. 

“What is it? Would you rather I clarify to Allison's aunt that we aren't actually together?”

Patty grimaced. That wasn't the problem, although it was a problem. Another one. “I know that guy,” was all she said.

“Diane's date?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Not a fan?”

“No it's—I just never thought about it. It—” She could kinda see it. But she definitely didn't expect it. 

“Good for her. Good to get back out there after grieving.”

Patty wanted to add something about Diane maybe not grieving much, but she was just thankful it wasn't Neil. He was Patty's brother, but Diane could do better. And, well, . . . 

“So you don't mind that I didn't correct her? I just figured it didn't really matter . . . ”

Patty sighed. “I guess. I don't really care. I just don't want Allison to think I'm making shit up.”

“Doesn't sound like they talk much.”

“More often than we do,” Patty mumbled. 

“Okay, I'm cutting you off here.”

“What? This is my first drink.”

“No. The moping. Not today.”

“I wasn't moping.”

“You were about to.”

“Was not. I don't mope.” Patty liked to consider it more of having a realistic attitude towards life in general.

“You keep telling yourself that. But I just can't deal today, because I have the best—and maybe the worst—news. I have to tell someone.”

“Worst first, please.” If she was going to be accused of moping, anyway . . .

“What fun is that?”

Patty glared.

“Fine. Worst first. Not even bad, really. I left McLaughlin & O’Grady.”

“You've been wanting to, right?” This didn't seem like bad news at all. Such was her charmed life, Patty figured.

“Yeah, just couldn't get the right folks to join me. And, I mean, it was job security. I'm going out on a limb here, now. That's where the best comes in.”

“Okay.” It wasn't as though Patty didn't understand. It was just hard to be too concerned that Renée wouldn't figure everything out like she always had her entire life.

“Rochelle is going to partner with me. It's official. We're hanging out our shingle next week.”

“Oh.” Patty furrowed her brows. “Great.”

“I thought you liked her.”

“I do. But what does it matter?”

“I get it, you're still moping. Well then, I might as well tell you the last thing. I was debating whether it was worth the trouble.”

“Tell me what?”

“Tammy is back in town permanently. She's going to be working with me. As a private investigator.” Renée paused between each statement, apparently expecting a response she wasn't getting.

Patty shrugged. “So?”

“The last time you ran into her, you weren't exactly thrilled.”

“Yeah well that was because . . . ” Patty stopped. Did she really want to say why?

Renée smirked. “I knew it. I knew it wasn’t about Tammy.” 

“Knew what?”

“I knew it had something to do with Allison.”

“No . . . it didn't.” Even Patty could tell she sounded like a liar. 

“Oh, stop it. There's no reason to lie to me now. (Not that you should've before). Spill.”

“I don't know what to spill. It's not really my secret to tell. Tammy told me something about why Allison came home that I didn't know.”

“I thought she came home to get a divorce?”

“Well . . . yes, I think so.”

“There was something else? I kinda got the impression that she had to get out, she thought leaving was the answer, and then she decided to come home and face everything, and . . . then she kinda lucked out.” Renée smirked and then frowned, seemingly at herself. “Sorry. I really can't stand that guy. Couldn't. Whatever.”

“You didn't even know him, though?” Patty certainly did. What a stretch of wasted years.

“I knew what Allison told me.”

“I don't know how you can stand me.” It was a good question. If all Renée knew was what Allison had told her over the years . . . 

Renée raised an eyebrow. “Allison always seemed to admire you.”

“Right.”

“She did. At least she didn't dislike you. She didn't say anything bad.”

Patty frowned. “She probably should've.” Patty hadn't thought about this lately, but the guilt had been thick when Allison first left. What had Patty really done to deserve that sacrifice?

“Back to the point. What did Tammy tell you that had you so worked up?” Renée's question snapped Patty back to attention. 

“I can't really get into it.” At Renée's disappointed look, Patty continued. “I really can't.”

“Not even a little? You don't even talk to Allison anymore!”

“It's . . .” What could Patty say that wasn't off limits? “Okay, I'll say it this way. I thought Allison was . . . being a little selfish. And it turns out she wasn't.”

“You got that from what Tammy said?”

“Fuck it. How much for attorney-client privilege?” Patty needed to talk to someone. If Allison was off in Paris or whatever—what difference did it make?

“Free consultation. Come on. You can trust me.” 

Patty sighed. She supposed she could. “Without getting too deep into it, Allison didn't want to leave in the first place. Or so she said. She left so that I could blame some things on her.”

Renée's confused face had a lot more dignity than most people's. But Patty had begun to recognize it. “And did you? Blame her?”

“Only as much as I had to.”

“And Tammy knew that?”

“Tammy is who I had to blame her to.”

Suddenly Renée's eyes went wide. “Cop stuff?”

“Um . . . you could say that.” Patty grit her teeth. “Guess it's good we're not dating,” she said through her teeth. Nothing like implying you're a criminal on a date.

“Whatever, I won't ask questions.”

“That doesn't really make me feel better.” Patty pursed her lips. 

“Okay, okay, so you had to lie to Tammy and blame Allison about something after she left. And that's why she left. So what did Tammy seeing her have to do with it?”

“Tammy found her.” Patty thought about adding “before I could,” but wondered if that was like rubbing salt into a wound. “She must've told her it was okay to go home.”

“So?”

“So Allison wasn't being reckless. She came back knowing I'd be okay if she did.” Patty hesitated. “I think.” But in fact, she had thought it over entirely too much. Especially since Allison had moved. It was the only logical conclusion. Tammy gave her permission to come home. Patty wondered that Allison had never explained. Never mentioned that she saw Tammy. Never tried to justify anything. But then again, Patty was so happy to see her, she hadn't asked. It wasn't until later that the doubt crept in.

“Did she say that?”

“No, I haven't—”

“Of course. She moved out. You haven't talked to her.” Renée rolled her eyes. “But you want to.”

Patty returned the eye roll.

“Then why don't you?” How did Renée have such an ability to ask the worst question?

“Why doesn't she?”

“Because you're playing a weird game of chicken.” Renée's voice suddenly took on an authoritative quality that Patty assumed did well in court. “Okay, new deal—no moping until you call her.”

“I'm not gonna—” Patty started.

Renée shrugged. “Then I don't have to hear about it.”

Patty scoffed. 

“—and before you attribute my attitude to some kind of jealousy—I would call her for you, if I didn't think you'd kill me . . . or that it would actually hurt my objective, because Allison is the one—” Renée stopped abruptly. 

“The one what?”

“No use me saying it until you figure it out for yourselves. Call her.”

Patty was about to protest but Renée shot her a glance that wouldn't be denied. Patty wondered if she would have the nerve, or if she'd rather just give up mentioning Allison forever. 

—

Patty grabbed a mug of tea and a book, and she sat on her couch, taking turns staring at her phone and out in space. She occasionally tried to read the words of the book, but that was mostly a lost cause. It had been at least seven months since she had a conversation with Allison, which was the longest stretch since she was a teenager. Granted, for most of those years, conversation wasn't exactly scintillating, but it happened.

Patty had been telling herself that she hadn't reached out after the note because Allison said she'd be in contact when she found a place, but Patty hadn't honestly expected that she would. The note was a goodbye. She knew a goodbye. And in some ways, it was a shittier goodbye than “I'm sorry—but you're better off.” At least that time there was a reason. One Patty understood, even if she hated it. This time . . . Patty had no clue. Other than something about flying all over the place. 

Patty had told her to get out there. Based on what Diane said, she was getting out somewhere. 

Paris. Shit. Patty didn't need to worry about Allison, she was clearly doing fine. 

Patty stared at the phone again, as if it might dial on its own. Why was she always listening to Renée, anyway? Some kind of twisted matchmaker she was. It was one thing when Patty had some inducement, but why listen now? Now that any chance of the two of them going anywhere was pretty much moot. Patty certainly didn't want to admit that Renée was simply right. Heaven forbid.

The buzzing made her jump, and she didn't realize what it was at first, until a number popped up on her phone. 903 area code? Clarksville, TX? What the hell? But it wasn't just saying “Spam Risk . . ."

Then again, Patty thought, if she answered, maybe she could waste time on the phone and pretend she actually called Allison. And run out of time to call Allison.  If she was in Paris, she was hours ahead, it would be way too late, soon.

Maybe Patty could give some obnoxious scam artist the runaround . . . She kinda hated employing Kevin tactics, but she knew more than her fair share of them . . . 

She answered. Later, she would wish she hadn't. But she did.

“Patty?” A small voice questioned on the other end. Oh shit.

“Yeah?” She answered, hoping she was hallucinating. Texas?

“It's Allison,” the voice said. Obviously.

“Where the hell are you calling from?”

“Oh, well, it's not my phone.” Allison's voice was apologetic, as it so often was.

“I guess that's a relief.” 

“Oh, um, yeah, so. . . Hey.” Allisom said it like something profound. Something that needed to be said.

“Hey,” Patty threw back, with extra nonchalance.

“I, um, how are you?”

“What's this about?” Patty said, without thinking. Without considering.

“I just, um, _{I wanted to talk to you}.” Allison's own voice got quieter until Patty had to fill in the last couple words on her own.

“Okay,” Patty said. So talk then.

“Is this an okay time?”

“Never better,” Patty thought about mentioning that she was about to call. But that was a lie. Now that they were on the phone, she knew for certain she had no intention of doing so. Never did.

“Oh. Oh. Good. Because . . . because . . . I wanted to tell you something.” 

Allison hesitated, and Patty made a noise. There was silence for a few seconds, then Allison kept going. “So I'm here with this guy, and—”

Patty did not like how this started.

“—and I realized something. You see, he and I were friends. I mean, I thought we were, and then, well, it turns out that we weren't, you see.” Allison's voice was still very quiet, and it wasn't clear if she was uncertain or if she was trying not to be overheard.

“Do I?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I didn't get it. I didn't see it. But—”

“What, Allison?” She always had a hard time getting to the point.

“I think I haven't been paying attention.” This she said more definitively, louder. Unfortunately it made less sense than the parts Patty could barely hear.

“Hmmph,” Patty said, by way of acknowledgment. Allison not paying attention was nothing new.

She kept going. “I don't think I've paid attention in a long time. Maybe I never did.”

Patty didn’t say anything. I used to think that north was just whatever was in front of me.

“But I get it now. There were things I wasn't seeing. Maybe I wasn't ready. But I see them now.”

“Allison, see what?”

“I'm trying to say it. It's hard. It's hard when I can't see your face.”

“Well I'm looking at you like you're crazy.” 

“That's . . . reassuring, actually.” Patty smiled for a second, barely aware of it.

“But Patty, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I realized today I wasn't being . . . fair. To you.”

Patty exhaled. This—this was getting into dangerous territory. “Stop talking in riddles.”

“I was—I was ignoring things. Big things.”

“Like what?”

“Umm … feelings?” 

“Was that a question?”

“No, well, yes, but, not a question for you. I mean, maybe for you, too?” The last part was oddly hopeful.

“Allison, honey, I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Either say it, or—”

“I'm trying!”

“Well it's not really coming across.”

“I'm sorry—I'm sorry for what I did to you. What you had to—having to deal with me all the time. All over you, but without—I'm sorry! I didn't know what I was doing. I wasn't paying attention.”

“You weren’t doing anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Patty spoke quickly. She knew exactly what Allison was talking about.

“Well, no, I think I was. I was—I didn’t know I was, but now I’m realizing—”

“Realizing what?”

“I—” She stopped abruptly.

“It's fine, Allison. Just say it. You should’ve realized it a long time ago. Just say it.”

The front door swung open, and Renée came in. “Hey—” she looked up and saw Patty on the phone and her eyes went wide, “Is that—” she said, too loudly, before mouthing “Allison” silently.

“Oh my god, is Renée there?” Allison said, her voice pinched.

“Does it matter?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought—” Allison trailed off and Patty was confused. 

“Allison, say what you were gonna say. Let’s just get it out there.” Patty could see Renée nodding silently.

“No. No. I—never mind, I—”

“Allison, come on.”

“I gotta go. I gotta go.” And with that, Allison hung up.

Patty looked up at Renée, who was giving her a concerned look. There was no judgment to it, for which Patty was thankful, because she didn’t think she could take it right now.

“You listened to me?” Renée asked. 

Patty wanted to say yes, but she shook her head.

The confused look was back. “She called you?”

Patty nodded.

“Just out of the blue?”

Patty bit her lip and looked away. “To tell me she realized I was in love with her," she mumbled, surprised at herself for admitting it.

“She said that?”

“Not exactly. But she apologized.”

“Was there—?” But then Renée looked Patty in the eye and must have seen what she was feeling. She immediately stopped her question, came over, and sat beside her, putting an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder.

“I—” Patty began, but Renée squeezed her shoulder, letting her know she didn’t have to explain. Patty let herself fall back on the couch, just staring up at the ceiling. 

Renée did the same, and they sat like that for a while. 

It was all Patty could think to do.

Chapter Text

That summer

The envelope peeked out of the top of Patty’s tote bag, sitting in the corner at the back of the salon, just within view as Patty put the finishing touches on Judi’s latest rearrangement of deck chairs, as she might put it.  It was always dangerous to be too distracted when Judi was there, and today was no exception.  Just as Patty put her hands on Judi’s shoulders to spin her around, Judi gave her a sharp look and asked. “So what over there has been bothering you?”

“Over where?” Patty asked with nonchalance that wasn’t practiced enough to fool anyone with Judi’s perception. 

“You’ve been staring off into the corner at your bag all morning. You in a hurry?”

“I’ve got to meet with Neil later this afternoon,” Patty said. Which was true. And which she didn’t want to do. Maybe that would be enough.

It was at least a temporary success. “How is he doing? I know I haven’t asked about him, but sometimes I figure no news is good news.”

Patty sometimes felt that way. Although, early on, after she had kicked him out, no news sometimes meant she would be fretting for days. Until she remembered that she paid for his cell phone, and, if she needed to, she could track him down. She didn’t. But the idea that she could made her feel a little better. And made her feel a little better about continuing to pay for his cell phone, in all his obliviousness. “I think he’s fine. He’s been up to something with Renée. She set this up.”

Judi let out a little snort of laughter, as though she expected it all along.

“What?” 

“Ambitious one, that.”

“Renée?” Patty was never completely sure how Judi felt about Renée. Sometimes she was thankful, sometimes dismissive. Often amused.

Judi just nodded.

“Because she wants me to talk to Neil?”

“Has anyone else gotten you to do that?” Judi smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Nice work, today, by the way. I feel like you’ve taken a few years off, at least.”

Patty grunted an acknowledgement, and Judi smiled. She ignored Judi’s point about Renée and Neil, but she considered it. Who else could do it? The only name that popped into her head was someone who would probably never try.

“She’s a smart one, that. And good for you, too.” Judi gave a little bit of a shrug as she said the last.

“I’m sensing a but coming,” Patty said as she unwrapped the cape from around Judi’s shoulders. 

“You know what the but is,” Judi said, knowingly. “Doesn’t mean she isn’t worth keeping around.”

Patty wanted to grimace, but it was Judi, and Judi’s advice always came with a gravity that Patty couldn’t ignore. She just nodded.

Judi hopped slightly down off the chair, holding on steadily as she righted herself and brushed herself off, reaching up to touch her hair as she looked at it in the mirror. “Absolutely an improvement. I never know how you do it.”

Patty gave a sort of a half smile and a shrug.

“You’re terrible at taking compliments,” Judi chuckled. “But you knew that. That’s why I always give them.” Judi gave Patty’s arm a squeeze. “So how much today?”

“You deserve a discount for what you’ve done with my business.  I’m booked about twice as full as I was a few months ago. And all the book club shit—” Patty paused as Judi gave her a stern look, “—all the book club events have really helped me out.”

“As much as it pains you when they expect you to talk to them.”

Patty mumbled to herself, “you know me too well.”

“Of course I do,” Judi said. “Getting close to twenty-five years now, huh?”

Patty thought about it. Jesus. It nearly was. “So maybe this one is on the house.”

“Not a chance, honey,” Judi said. “How much?”

Patty sighed. “Eighty, as usual, then.” The two of them headed to the front.

“It’s criminal when you could charge twice as much,” Judi said as she took the money from her purse.

“I charge what I like to the regulars.”

“Renée hasn’t rubbed off too much, then.”

And there it was, Patty thought, a little dig to go with the earlier compliment. She ignored it. 

“You know, I had a book for you—but then your friend was in the other day and she saw it sitting next to my computer. Anyway, we got to talking about it, and she is borrowing it for a while. Said maybe she could give it back in a few months.”

My friend? Patty thought.

“Yeah, said she’d be back in town again for a wedding before the end of the summer.” Judi smiled, and Patty’s face fell. “So maybe you can just get it from her when she’s done?”

Judi gave a wave and walked out the door. “Don’t think about it for too long. You’ll want to go,” Judi said. “Easier to regret what you don’t do.”

As she watched Judi walk to her car, Patty sighed. Didn’t anyone in her life ever miss a trick?

—

After work, Patty sat at the high top with Renée, Neil towering oddly above the table top, hunched awkwardly in what appeared to be an attempt not to take up too much table space.

Renée smirked at him. “We can move to a booth.”

“No, uh, no…this is good,” Neil said, straightening up a bit, his voice holding a politeness that made Patty do a double take.

“Where the hell have you been?” Patty asked, as though she had a right to ask.

“I’ve been staying at Doug’s,” Neil spit back, reverting to Patty’s expectations. “No thanks to you.”

“He’s let you stay there this long?” Patty knew Neil had stayed there for a while, but she assumed Doug would only tolerate so much.

Renée gave Patty a sharp look. What was her problem?

Patty continued. “I guess I let you stay 34 years, so—”

“That was my home, you didn’t let me—”

This time it was Patty’s look that shut Neil up.

Renée cleared her throat.  “My understanding is that Neil would like to say something,” she looked at Neil, and then to Patty. “To you.”

Patty rolled her eyes. “Of course. Renée just finished her mediation class.”

“Refresher,” Renée said, her eyes smiling in Patty’s direction, while keeping her serious expression intact.

“So what does Neil have on you that he got you to do this?” Patty asked Renée with a smirk.

“I didn’t—I just ran into her at Dunkies.” Neil blurted.

Renée smiled again. “Several times.”

“I can’t help it if you’re there at the same time every day.”

“Anyway,” Patty started, “What is it that you want to say, Neil?”

“I—,” Neil started, straightening his back again, seemingly growing about a foot in the process. “I would like to move back into my apartment, since it is empty.”

“And what else?” Renée prompted, nudging Neil gently in the arm, which he took with surprising grace.

“So are you his lawyer now?” Patty asked, twisting her mouth in doubt.

“To be clear, I’m just being a friend here.” Renée responded.

“Since when are you two friends?” Patty started, but Renée gave her another sharp look.

“Go ahead, Neil. You were saying,” Renée said evenly.

“I have a job, and I will be able to pay rent.” His attitude resembled a six year old negotiating for a higher allowance.

“And—?” Renée said, nudging him, again.

“I can do my own laundry and buy my own food.”

Renée nodded.

“And take care of myself,” Neil added, with a smile of pride as he looked over at Renée.

Patty was rather astounded at this. Damn she was good. Patty wondered sometimes if she hadn't been the biggest idiot in the world. But Renée seemed perfectly happy and, well, things were pretty good now. Days weren’t such a slog. Life didn’t seem like just an endless repetition, all for nothing much.

Renée cleared her throat again.

“What?” Patty asked.

“Patty, do you have something to say in response to Neil?” Renée kept her tone as the even-keeled adult in the room, which was a little obnoxious, Patty wasn’t going to sugarcoat it.

“Fine,” Patty shrugged

“Patty, could you let Neil know what is fine?” Renée prodded.

Patty turned to Neil, her eyebrows raising, but attempting to keep her eyes from a complete roll. “You can move back in—but I need three months’ rent ahead of time, and if you trash the place before then or come begging for my help cleaning your fridge because it looked like a science project exploded in there, you don’t get the deposit back and you leave again.”

Renée looked at Neil.  “Seems fair, doesn’t it?”

Neil, who had been pouting since Patty started talking, nodded begrudgingly at Renée.

Renée smiled brightly, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Well, look at that! Good thing you hired a brilliant negotiator. Better shake on it.” The tilt of her head and her smile were enough to make Patty want to smack her.

The looks from both Patty and Neil could kill, but Patty reached out her hand and Neil took it in his larger one and gave it a quick pump.  

“What a happy family,” Renée laughed, her face returning to normal. “Okay, wings on me.”

Patty and Neil finally seemed to relax.  An accord was reached.

—

Later that day, Renée and Patty sat on Patty’s couch with a beer, legs kicked up underneath themselves the way she and Allison used to do (with whiskey), laughing about a prospective client that Renée had interviewed the day before, when Renée looked over at Patty, clearly moving to a new topic. “I know you got it. You haven’t said a word.”

“What are you talking about?” Patty suspected she did know. But she didn’t know how she felt about it yet.

“The invitation.”

“How do you know about it?” It was a worthwhile question. 

“I got one, too.” Renée shrugged.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“I think she doesn’t know if we’re a couple or not.” 

The way Renée smiled at that amused Patty a little, but she wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing. “Well that’s . . .”

“So she invited us both separately and then she doesn’t have to worry about it.”

“I don’t know why she invited us at all.”

“Patty.”

“It’s a legitimate question.”

“You’re friends.”

“If you squint, maybe.”

“So what? It’s nice to be wanted.”

Patty sighed. “You know as well as I do that there’s a lot of bullshit this brings up. I’m not really sure I wanna go.”

“Come on, it’s been months. I think you can handle it.”

“Maybe I don’t want to handle it.”

“What if I say I’ll go with you?”

“Well, that’s just lying to people.”

“There’s no lie. We don’t have to say anything. Just arrive together. People will fill in the blanks as they see fit.”

“Yeah, ‘people.’” Patty knew exactly what Renée meant by “people.”

“So maybe we care about some people more than others.”

“I can’t think of a single reason I’d want to go to this.”

“You can’t?”

“I’m not an idiot. I know what you’re getting at.”

“Do you?”

“I’ve given up on that. You know I have.”

“Well you certainly have never moved on.”

“Oh come on. Move on how?”

“I’ve been here.” Renée pointed to herself as though she had just been waiting idly by for Patty to be ready again.

“Don’t give me that. We had our chance.”

“And why did we let it slip away?” Renée’s tone belied her words somewhat, or Patty might have thought she was truly upset.

Patty grumbled, nonetheless.

Renée continued. “Seriously, though. If I thought you were even the slightest bit over her, I might have tried again.”

That was news to Patty. But it was just as well. “Whether you believe me or not, that—what you’re insinuating—is never going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“Are you serious? And you think this is the right occasion to try?”

“None better.” Renée looked as though she couldn’t think of a single thing wrong with it.

“That’s insanity. Again. You won’t let this go.”

“No, this is insanity,” Renée said, giving Patty another of her hard stares. “You still have never told her.”

“She knows.”

“You assume she knows.”

“She told me she knows.”

“Not in so many words. That last conversation sounded like a mess. I’m not entirely sure—”

“Well . . . she sounded like a mess.”

Renée’s eyes widened, as if to say exactly. “And that’s no way to resolve things.”

“A wedding is the right time?” Patty thought she might state the obvious.

Renée shrugged. “Forced proximity. Nothing better.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Patty mumbled. There was one thing she hadn’t said. One thing that had been weighing on her since she had read the personalized note inside the invitation.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Renée scooted forward.

“I’m supposed to be a bridesmaid.” Patty said, continuing to mumble, nearly inaudibly.

Patty wasn’t sure she had ever seen such an expression of shock on Renée’s face.

Patty sighed. “So, yeah, side by side, up at the front.”

“Oh, honey.”

Patty rolled her eyes. “So yeah, no in-and-out, say hi and leave. If I say yes to this, she wants us to get there a week early.”

Renée just nodded solemnly.

Patty smirked. “But, you can’t take it back now. I think I've decided to go. And you are comin’ with me.”

A week before the wedding

“So how thick am I gonna be laying this on?” Renée looked over at Patty’s reflection in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, not thick, hold on, let me—” Patty reached for the mascara brush in Renée's hand.

Renée held firmly to the brush and smiled, and Patty realized what she meant. Renée continued. “So you want me to be all over you, or should I be a little more subtle?”

Patty blew out a breath and continued with her own eye shadow in the mirror. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

Renée scoffed. “Attending the wedding you were invited to participate in, or bringing me along as your date?”

“Either.”

“Your memory is a little faulty.” Renée laughed. “You’ll be fine. Besides, you look hot.”

Patty shivered a little, looking at herself in the mirror. “I feel weird.”

“Why?”

Patty indicated herself. “I don’t know about all of this.” She looked like she was going on a date. She most definitely wasn’t.

“You . . . dressing up?” Renée smiled at her appreciatively.

“This isn’t even an event. We’re just going to check into the hotel.” Patty flipped her hair reflexively, as if rearranging something would fix every issue, none of which related to how she looked. 

“And it’s your first arrival. You need to kill it. You’re going to kill it.” Renée looked down at herself in the mirror. “And I won’t look bad, either, which can only help.”

Patty looked over at Renée, who could manage to make a short dress look appropriate for any occasion. She could be at work, she could be going to a cocktail party. She could be having a casual dinner. Once again, Patty wondered what the hell she was thinking. 

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Renée said, looking over. “If I had lower self-esteem, I’d be all yours.”

“Thanks,” Patty said, sarcastically.

“You’re welcome,” Renée said with a smirk. “In the meantime, you can pretend. I won’t even mind if you get too into it.”

“Oh, now, that’s a real offer.”

“I’m serious. I think I can maintain my detachment at this point. LIke a friends-with-benefits situation.”

Patty sighed. “And that always works out.”

“Well, only if you’re up for it. No hard feelings if you’re not.” Renée smirked again. There was no doubt she had confidence.

“Clinical. Truly a clinical case. But you give off such ‘normal’ vibes.”

“As if you even knew what those were.”

“I guess I don’t.”

“You don’t.” 

Patty frowned at herself again in the mirror. “Do I really have to arrive like this? I’ve been fiddling with my face for hours…”

Renée looked over doubtfully. “As if you don’t always do that.”

“No, believe me, this is worse than usual.”

“Well, it’ll be worth it.” Renée nodded confidently.

“Right.”

“Have I ever been wrong?”

“Yes.” Patty could safely say she’d been very wrong.

“Still unproven.” Renée countered.

“But—”

“I’m always right. You should know this by now.” Patty was about to protest again when Renée cut her off, her finger moving up to her lips, without touching (and smudging) Patty’s lipstick. But it did earn her another dirty look. “And just take my word for it.”

—

Pulling up to the circular driveway of the hotel in Renée’s car felt like a lie, but Patty was in too deep at this point. She had RSVPed, she had sent a note back agreeing to come early, to be a bridesmaid. She had sent a check to cover the dress she would be fitted for—the only thing she hadn’t done was actually speak to anyone. She had been avoiding it like the plague, which was more difficult than she had hoped. She had more than a few missed calls, which she always answered tersely via text.

As Patty’s mind wandered back to the previous few weeks, Renée came around to hand her out of the passenger seat, which made Patty throw up a little in her mouth. But Renée’s secret smirk to Patty made her feel better, as did, to a certain extent, the view down the front of Renée’s dress that Patty got an eyeful of as Renée leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Showtime.” She gave her a kiss on the cheek and Patty laughed lightly.

Patty’s smile lingered as she stepped her foot out and got ready to face the world. At least she had a buffer—a strong hand grabbing her own, the other that clasped her shoulder firmly to steady her as she stood up. 

But then Patty glanced up. And her smile disappeared.

Chapter Text

Part II: 

You might as well 

try to stop the rain

About a year after the porch . . .

Allison sat at the corner of the bar, and Renée sat adjacent, her body turned to face Allison, as Renée always sat—there was something open and honest about it, something that Allison always felt a little overwhelmed by.  They were former colleagues, attorney and client, but ultimately, at this point, friends, and yet Allison always felt like Renée was trying to get at something Allison didn’t want to say. Unfortunately, Allison didn’t know what that was. So it made hiding from it all the more awkward. 

“So how’s the diner?” Renée smiled—was it a smirk? Allison was pretty sure that was a smirk. 

“It’s good enough. Why—why are you smiling like that?”

Renée shrugged. “I just figured you had ulterior motives for working there.”

“Ulterior motives?”

“Sam, right? That's your boss's name? You had a thing?”

“How does everyone figure—?”

“I saw him once. I dunno. So, I’m right?”

“No! . . . Well, yes, we did. But no! Not now.” Allison could feel her arms crossing and she put them back down again.

“Not now?” Renée's question seemed to imply a maybe later.

“No.”

“Why not?” Renée looked genuinely curious.

Allison shook her head. Why not? She hadn’t thought about it. “It ended and I—just—we’re friends now. I like it that way.”

“And yet you’re still working at that diner like it’s all you can do?”

Allison frowned. “That’s a little harsh.”

“Well, I know you’re capable of more than that. You could come work for me. I’d hire you in a heartbeat.”

Allison thought about it—thought about how much fun she and Renée used to have sometimes, working on a big case, working towards something. “I—I don’t know. It just seems like so much effort to get back there, where I was. And now I’m older and even further behind.”

“Never too late to start something new.”

“I like working at Bev’s.”

Renée shrugged. “Okay.”

“It’s comfortable,” Allison added, not sure Renée was convinced.

“God forbid you do something scary.”

“Where is all this coming from?” Allison was starting to feel a little attacked.

“You seem like maybe you’re stuck in a rut.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you realize how free you are?” Renée's very blue eyes were focused solely on Allison with a stare that said not everyone gets that chance.

“I know, I know. And I like it, I swear.”

“But what are you doing with it?”

“Exactly what I want to do.” Wasn't she?

“Which is . . . ?”

Allison huffed. So what if she worked at a diner? So what if all she did was go home and stop into Patty's apartment and curl up on the couch with a book. She liked that. She had time now. All the fucking time in the world.

Renée, seeing that maybe she was overstepping, waved her hand. “I'm sorry, I—this wasn't why I wanted to talk to you, actually. I'm probably just projecting.”

Allison knew very well that Renée was an over-achiever, and she had no desire to compete. But then Renée continued. 

“I really just wanted to ask you about Patty.” That got Allison's attention.

Patty. Allison didn't know why, but the name Patty coming out of Renée's mouth made alarm bells go off. She convinced herself it must be Renée's connection to Tammy. Or legal trouble. “Patty?”

Renée leaned forward, as if a secret were being discussed. “Yeah, I, um, is she seeing anyone?” Renée's voice was suddenly less self-assured. 

“Besides me?” Allison said, letting out a little laugh. But Renée's puzzled glance snapped her back to reality. “Oh, I'm—” she wanted to say kidding, but the word wasn't coming out.

But Renée laughed, thankfully, and Allison didn't have to explain. “So—no?”

Allison frowned, and then did her quickest reversal into a smile, but it hurt a little. What difference does it make whether Patty is seeing anyone? “She's not. I don't think,” Allison slowly got out. If she were, she certainly hadn't said anything. 

“Oh.” Renée's voice perked up and a smile formed, reaching her eyes, which sparkled a little. Allison shivered for a second. “You cold?” Renée asked, observing.

Allison rubbed her arms absent-mindedly. “I'm the kinda girl who's always cold,” she said, with a small laugh.

Renée laughed politely.

“Something Patty said once,” Allison said, without thinking, but it brought her back to the issue at hand. “So, um, why do you want to know?”

“Hmm?” Renée looked like her mind had drifted away.

“About Patty. Why do you ask? Got someone to set her up with?” Allison tried to laugh.

“Me,” Renée said, laughing. “Of course.”

“You?” Allison wished she had tempered her voice. She wished she hadn't been caught by surprise. She wished a lot of things.

“Yeah.” Renée raised an eyebrow. “Who else?”

“Oh.” Allison blanched. She swore there was a buzzing in the room, although maybe it was just in her own ears. She shook her head a little, trying to clear it away.

“Is that okay?” Renée tilted her head a little, putting her hand on Allison's shoulder.

Allison blinked a few times. “Yeah, yeah. Yes. Of course. Why wouldn't that be okay?” 

“Well, you should've seen your face just now.”

“Oh, I—sometimes I just get—” Allison waved her hand a little, hoping to get away from the subject of her own reaction. “Classic Allison.” She almost wished she would just fall off the stool, something to distract.

“But do you think she'd go?” Renée asked, and when Allison didn't immediately answer, she kept going. “Patty, I mean. If I asked her out? Do you think—?”

Allison, who had just taken a long drink, finishing her whiskey sour, looked at Renée. What was not to like? “Who wouldn't say yes?” she asked, her voice a little strained. Because of the drink, she told herself.

“Well, sure, but, you two are so close, you know her—maybe, I dunno, maybe she said something about me?”

Allison's eyes went wide. Had she? Had Patty ever said anything about Renée? Like, who's your hot lawyer friend? But, no, Patty never said things like that. For all Allison knew, Patty never looked at anyone like that. It just didn't come up. “I—I mean, I know she likes you.” That much was true.

“Oh, well, what an endorsement.”

“Believe me, that is, with Patty.” Was Patty's mere tolerance of Renée something Allison should have picked up on? “She doesn't just like people, in general.”

“Oh, well, yeah, I guess I can see that.”

Allison let out a small laugh. “She barely tolerates me.” Allison isn't sure why she said it. Was it true? Sometimes it seemed true. Sometimes . . . 

“Oh, I'm pretty sure you don't have to worry about that,” Renée said, “you two seem inseparable. I mean, that's why I thought I should ask you first. I also—I figured I'd get information from the best source.”

“Well, I'm not her moth—” Allison realized what she was about to say, and quickly shut her mouth again. “I'm not her chaperone. We're friends.”

Renée scoffed. “You're not just ‘friends.’”

“Of course we are!” Allison said, quickly, defensively.

“No, I mean, you're like—” Renée seemed at a loss for words. “Never mind,” she said, as if she thought better of it.

“What were you gonna say?” Allison leaned in, involuntarily, interested.

“Nothing. You just seem very close. It didn't seem right to just ask without talking to you first. We've known each other a long time. I know you've been through a lot. I didn't want to mess up—whatever you have going?” 

Allison was quiet for a second. “Is this why you're trying to get me out doing things? So you can date Patty?” She said it like it was a joke. She smiled as well as she could.

“Probably,” Renée laughed, too, like it was a joke. “Can you blame me?”

Allison frowned again, suddenly.

“I'm kidding,” Renée said quickly. “I wouldn't dare come between the two of you.”

Allison smiled and nodded. “I know.” She wished the dread in the pit of her stomach could be convinced.

—

After Renée left, Allison got one more drink and sat at the bar, slowly sipping. Her whole body felt like it was on alert, but it wasn't explaining why. She liked Renée. It wasn't like it had been with Tammy. Tammy clearly couldn't stand Allison, and it became mutual. If Patty dated Renée, they could all get along—it was about as ideal as it could get.

When Allison thought about Sam, sometimes, she had similar ideas. He and Patty had formed a kinda funny little friendship, and if he and Allison dated, they could all get along. 

But Allison could never really wrap her head around the “dating Sam” part of that equation, though, beyond how it would work with Patty. So she hadn't pursued it. Should she? But, no. Renee wanting to ask Patty out was not a reason to mess with her very pleasant existence as it was. She took a long sip, which tasted mostly of whiskey. For this she was thankful. The burn was welcome. 

Why did this information throw off her sense of balance so absolutely? It shouldn't matter at all. Even if it went poorly, it wasn't as if awkwardness with Renée would be a huge problem. They were friends, but had only recently reconnected . . . it wouldn't change much . . . there was nothing to worry about.

But all the way back to the house, Renée saying “me,” kept floating through Allison's brain. What was wrong with Renée? Of all people . . . Allison could admit she didn't think just anyone would be good enough for Patty, or would treat her as she truly deserved to be treated. But Renée was . . . worthy . . . wasn't she? She was smart and successful and beautiful . . . and kind, and funny, and . . . there really wasn't much wrong with her, actually. She wouldn't get jealous of Allison spending time with Patty—she basically said as much, and, oddly, Allison believed her. 

So there wasn't anything to worry about. Maybe it was just sympathy nerves. Allison knew Patty wasn't easy to approach, even Allison, who should be a pro at it by now, could fear the bite in Patty's responses at times. Maybe she just felt for Renée—maybe Allison knew what Patty's response would be all along. And maybe that was it—she felt bad she couldn't fully prepare Renée for that rejection. Or explain it away.

These—slightly more comforting—thoughts were keeping her head full as she walked through Patty's living room. Patty was sitting on the couch, reading, and all was right with the world. But Allison's face still didn't reflect that rightness. She wasn't a robot.

As Allison moved toward the kitchen, she realized that Patty had asked her something, and she did her best to respond, explaining that she had been getting a drink with Renée. Which wasn't unprecedented. But Patty seemed to be worried that there were more legal problems to deal with—a reasonable deduction, even if it was the wrong one. Allison would have liked to tell her the reason, maybe laugh over it a bit—it was starting to seem preposterous, the more Allison thought of it—Patty dating anyone right now—but it wasn’t fair to Renee not to let her take her chances without Allison's interference . . .

“Okaaaay.” Allison heard Patty respond to her incomplete explanations, but there wasn't much more she could say, so she decided to have another drink. 

“Help yourself.” Patty said, with a slight sting that Allison had learned to ignore. Or relish.

“I will,” Allison said, once again enjoying the burning feeling in her throat and the increasing fuzziness in her head.

“Hey! Hon! Slow down. What’s going on with you?” Patty sounded deadly serious. But none of this was serious, Allison was beginning to see.

“Nothing.” She smirked for good measure.

“Well at least let me join you. You know I hate being sober alone.”

That was more like it. Allison poured Patty a glass and handed it to her, Patty's hand grabbing Allison's over the glass, at first, which made Allison smile again—nothing would mess with them, or could, there wasn't anything to worry about.

When Allison sat on the couch, Patty looked surprised. “Aren’t you gonna kick me?”

“I don't always kick you. I—” Allison laughed nervously, hearing the accusation in Patty's voice, her own defensiveness an automatic response, her head being a little muddled.

Patty raised an eyebrow, and Allison realized she was being weird. All the talk about dating, maybe, was getting to her . . . she could still be her normal self. There was nothing wrong with that. Besides, Patty didn't even know yet. 

“So what’s with the sudden binge drinking? What did Renée tell you?” Patty's question came out of nowhere, and Allison did her best to dismiss it even if she wasn't completely sure what she was saying.

“Then what happened with work? Was it Sam?” Patty seemed determined. And Sam, where did that come from? “Did Sam say something to you?”  

“No! What would Sam say?” Allison was thoroughly confused. It was like Patty knew she had just been pondering her relationship with Sam. But Sam himself had never been a better friend. They had such a rhythm at work, there was no awkwardness. Allison shook her head, in a way that she thought was very final.

“I don’t know! You used to .  . .” Patty's voice trailed off. Was she being polite?

“Fuck in the back room?” Allison said before she could fully consider the words. Patty seemed to almost jump. But it was all such a ridiculous conversation. 

“I wasn’t gonna say that.” Patty almost looked ashamed.

Allison was dismissive. “Yeah, but that’s what it was. How did we get on this?” She honestly couldn't remember.

“You’re actin’ weird.”

“I’m—it’s nothing, I’m over it.” The look of concern on Patty's face caught Allison's attention, and suddenly it struck her—how much Patty cared about her. Wasn't that nice? Jesus, it was nice.

Patty, maybe a little uncomfortable with Allison's gaze (she could be a bit shy under all that bluster), straightened up and came over to sit closer, putting a hand on Allison’s knee, as she said, her voice still soft and sincere, “Seriously, though, if there’s something, . . . you can tell me, you know?” 

Allison felt warm, and looked down at the hand on her knee, taking a deep breath. She did the same to Patty all the time, but it was rarely returned. There was a certain . . . comfort . . . (was it comfort?) to the gesture, but she also . . . she swallowed, and Patty lifted her hand. But that wasn't . . . Allison didn't want to lose Patty's hand. She grabbed it back without thinking, and intertwined her fingers with Patty's, looking at her, trying to say, well something to reciprocate how important Patty's care had been, still was. She should say it now, while she had the chance. (But was time slipping away? Why did it have to be now?) Allison started to wish that maybe she hadn't had those last few sips of whiskey. Memories of sitting, clasping hands with Patty on the porch next door flooded over her, and the overwhelming feeling of rightness . . . so much rightness that she couldn't help but grin . . . 

“Did you mean it?” Allison asked, her mind lost in that previous moment, looking down at their intertwined hands. She realized Patty wasn't in her head, couldn't divine what she meant. “Out there on the porch? Did you mean it?”

Recognition reached Patty's eyes, but she didn't respond. Why not?

“I love you,” Allison said, realizing at that moment how much she meant it. Why hadn't she ever said it before?

Patty's face did not respond the way Allison might have hoped. She looked almost—angry.

“I mean it,” Allison said, squeezing Patty’s hand. Patty's face softened a little, but there was still something missing that Allison couldn't understand.

“Yeah, I know,” Patty said, after a beat. “Me too,” she said, and again, “me too.”

And the tension disappeared from Allison's stomach. She didn't realize it had been there until it was gone. She did not want this moment to end. Looking over at Patty, she asked what she had not asked for some time. But she felt that she needed to. More importantly, she desperately wanted to. “Can I stay here tonight?” 

Patty froze. Once again, Patty's response worried her. Patty was closed off—why? Allison wondered what she had done. “I mean . . . you don’t . . . I don’t have to, it’s just . . . ” In response to Patty’s questioning gaze, Allison kept going, trying to explain, her words almost as jumbled as her thoughts. She was not sure she was saying it right. At all. “It’s just that it always makes me feel better when you . . .” Allison realized what she was about to say and she was suddenly embarrassed. Was that—maybe something she shouldn't be saying anymore? But she wanted to stay. 

Patty remained silent.

“Patty?” Allison was so lost in her own head, she wasn't sure what Patty had been doing.

“Yeah.” Patty nodded, agreeing that Allison could stay, and the tension was again released from Allison's body. Nothing had changed. Nothing would change. Everything would be fine.

—

As Allison switched into her big, comfy pajamas, she felt a kind of excitement. She missed this—it was like having a slumber party or something—when she first came home, she and Patty did this often. And, Allison knew, it was partly because she couldn't sleep any other way . . . she would have a bad dream and be up half the night—scared, fretting . . . But when Patty was there—in Patty's arms, none of it seemed to matter. The ghosts that haunted her otherwise just seemed ridiculous. Maybe it was that Patty was a constant. Patty was there all along, she knew it all, and she promised to always be there, and—she always would. Patty didn't go back on her word. 

So when Allison slipped under the covers and Patty welcomed her into her arms again—it was like coming home. Allison sighed. Nothing in her life had ever given her as much comfort as Patty's arms. As she relaxed into it, as she silently asked Patty to play with her hair, she smiled. “Hmmmm,” she said. “Thank you,” she added. The alcohol was wearing off but she was so tired, and the rhythmic gliding of Patty's hand through her hair soothed her to sleep, as quickly as any lullaby. 

—

Once asleep, Allison's dreams came quickly and repetitively. Renée was in them, was consulting with Allison, repeating the same questions, over and over. 

“Can I ask Patty out?” And Allison says it's fine, but Renée keeps asking.

“Is it okay if I kiss her?” Allison doesn't understand why she should be consulted, but she nods, somehow compelled.

“And sleep with her?” Renée asks, “Is it okay?” And Allison scoffs, “why are you asking me?” and Renée smirks, saying “you're in bed with her, aren't you?” And Allison isn't sure how to respond. “Yes, but . . .” is all she can say.

And then the cycle repeats, and she has to answer all over again. 

Allison woke up with a start, disoriented before realizing where she was. Something was pushing up her throat and she realized she needed to run to the bathroom, reaching the toilet before retching into it awkwardly. She felt better almost instantly, but an emptiness gnawed at her stomach. After cleaning up, she went to the sink, swishing mouthwash and, after that, gulping down handfuls of water to fill her empty stomach with something. A sense of dread hit her, and she could not shake it. Nor could she place it.

She heard Patty stir, and she quickly shut off the bathroom light and did her best not to wake Patty up as she crawled back into bed. Thankfully, Patty's rhythmic breathing indicated that she was fast asleep. Then, Patty rolled towards her, flinging an arm around Allison’s waist in the process. Allison, at first, reached to undo this, but instead she settled in, , moving closer. She wanted to cry, she wanted to wake Patty up to talk about it. But she could not even say what she wanted to talk about. Instead, she closed her eyes, and tried to be comforted by Patty's warmth. 

As she lay there, stewing, she assumed that the comfort Patty usually provided wouldn't work this night, that she would be up for hours. But then she was waking from her sleep to a faint light from the window. She felt Patty's hand near her own, and she grabbed it, looking at Patty's face, peaceful in sleep. Beautiful, too. It was no wonder Renée was so eager to ask her out. Allison would, too, if she were in Renée's shoes. As Allison stared, Patty stirred and her eyes slowly opened, looking rather stunned. 

Something about that expression itched at Allison's insides. Like there was something she was forgetting. Like that time that she felt like she dropped something—she felt it again, more powerful than the last time. But Patty was here, and there was no reason to worry about Neil. Kevin was gone. Allison was very much alive. Everything was in place. And Patty . . . Allison smiled, still looking at her. There she is.

Allison's hand reached up and pushed the hair from Patty's face, and Patty looked almost embarrassed in response. Allison was hit by an overwhelming urge to say something, do something—something that would convey exactly what she wanted to convey. She already said “I love you,” but it didn't seem like enough. Patty didn't get it—didn't seem to understand the depths of how she meant it. As she picked through the strands, Patty closed her eyes again, and she said Patty's name softly, trying to get her attention.

Then, Patty's eyes shot open again, and she looked at Allison in horror. “I need to smoke,” she said quickly, nearly diving in the other direction, and she was gone before Allison could protest. 

Alone again, Allison felt the emptiness, in her stomach, an ache, and she brought her hand, which so recently held Patty's, up to her mouth, not sure what was missing—what was needed to fill the void.

Breakfast, she suddenly realized. She hadn't eaten dinner. She drank too much. She needed breakfast. And then, she felt, maybe the world wouldn't seem like it was ending.

Chapter Text

That Friday at Bev's, Allison rushed from one table to the next—what was going on here?—when she felt a buzzing in her pocket. Given the small number of people that actually texted her, she worried that it might be important. So she ducked into the back room in a moment of downtime, and saw, not a message from Patty, but one from Renée, who usually called.

     Wish me luck! 🤞

Allison laughed nervously to herself, but she knew this was coming, right?

     I wouldn't take a “no” too personally

It was right to warn her, wasn't it? Patty was prickly. She might not warm up to the idea, especially right away.

     Oh, um, I meant we're going out *tonight*

What? Allison was thrown off. Patty hadn't said anything. Patty didn't…

     Oh, when did you… ?

Allison started to ask, but didn't want to admit she didn't know—that Patty didn't say anything. She erased those words.

     Oh yeah, I meant like, afterwards…

she began to type, but then Allison realized what she was implying, and quickly hit backspace again, shaking the image from her head…

     Oh, of course 

Allison typed, going with the additional excuse. 

     I've been so slammed at work I nearly forgot

She had worked evenings most days this week, so it was plausible that she hadn't seen Patty enough for Patty to have told her. But they'd spoken every one of those evenings, when Allison came home, and there was no mention. Not even a hint.

But there was also no giddiness, no change…or had there been? If anything, Patty had seemed almost grumpy this week, ever since she ran out of her room that morning for a cigarette….

Good luck Allison added, realizing suddenly that she didn't want to get into it, that she hoped to god that Renée didn't ask her further advice on how to win Patty over. Allison didn’t think she had a clue, in any case. How would one “get” Patty . . . ?

Allison rushed back over to her table, the man in the flannel shirt waved angrily and demanded to know where his beer was. Allison grabbed it and continued. 

Sam ran into her as she was leaving the angry man, a look of concern on his face. He put a hand on her arm.

“What?” Allison snapped.

“Nothing, nothing,” Sam said, “You just look terrible.”

The glare Allison gave him couldn't have helped that assessment.

Sam shook his head. “No, no, I mean you look upset. What happened?”

“I'm okay.”

Sam frowned. “I'm just saying, you can let me know.”

“It's really fucking busy today, Sam. You can see that.” Sam was polite enough to shake off the flinch on hearing Allison say the word.

“Yes, yes, of course. Hey—you know—I’m here, right?”

“Great, actually,” Allison said. “I gotta make a call. Can you keep an eye on table 5?”

Sam glanced over, and the man in the flannel stared the two of them down angrily. “You mean the—” Sam started to say, about to casually gesture behind him.

But Allison had her phone up to her ear and was already heading to the back room.

—

At the end of her shift, and after catching up with Sam a bit, Allison, feet weary and doing her best not to picture Patty and Renée looking at each other lovingly over pasta, made the trek home. She was upset that Patty lied to her on the phone (although she was starting to sense a pattern), but she didn’t know that she wouldn't do the same, given the opportunity. The bus was boisterous with some high schoolers coming from the football game, and Allison did her best to stay out of their way. The walk from the bus stop was a relief after that crowd, and the night was clear and still, there was only a slight chill in the September air. Allison tried to think of anything, anything but Renée and Patty. Patty and Renée.

She walked down Shelby Street on the far side, when she realized Renée's silver Audi was parked out front. It hit home what different worlds they lived in (and that maybe Allison should warn her not to leave her car out front overnight—just in case). But as Allison approached, she realized that Patty and Renée had only just arrived, and were, in fact, still on the porch. Renée was in front of Patty, blocking the door as Patty was facing away, and as Renée looked out to the street, Allison panicked, ducking behind some trash cans, knocking the lid off of one as she (hopefully) remained out of sight.

She stayed sitting, pulling her knees to her chest and hoped that no one in her neighbor's house would spot her there.

All I have to do is wait for Renée to drive off, she thought, but when she didn't hear the footsteps returning to the car, her curiosity got the better of her. She peeked out over the top of the trash cans. And immediately wished she hadn't.

—

Allison sat, her back against the neighbor's trash cans, afraid to turn around again. She knew they were inside. She knew the car was still parked in front of the house. She knew the door hadn't swung back open. She knew she had been sitting there for an hour, that her legs were probably numb from sitting on the sidewalk, in a way that would be more than a little uncomfortable when she got up.

She reluctantly did so. She'd have to go home at some point, and there was no reason she shouldn't. So she slowly rose from the ground, pushing off the crumbling cement with her palms, pins and needles shooting up nerves she'd rather not have activated as she stretched her legs and made sure she could support her own weight on her feet.

As she ambled towards the house, about to divert to the backdoor, she realized the front door, behind the screen, was wide open. The inside of the apartment was dark, though. 

Did they leave it open? Allison wondered, dumbly, and before she was conscious of heading to investigate, she found herself at the top of the porch steps, leaning towards the door to get a better look. Darkness abounded, and there was nothing to see as she came closer. They're asleep, she decided, I'll just shut the door quietly. And she kept telling herself—they’re asleep—as she painstakingly and silently opened the screen door and pulled the front door shut. She kept telling herself that as she slowly and carefully locked the deadbolt from the outside. She told herself that all the way upstairs and as she got ready for bed. They’re asleep. She told herself that even when she knew full well it was not true.

—

Tossing and turning, later that night, Allison dreamt of the fire again. She hadn't had the dream in months, but it came back, and came back different, as it always did.

She told him again—Kevin—that she wanted a divorce. He said what he said—what he always said. "I will fucking destroy you." And she said what she always said—"do your worst." But this time, as the flames leapt around his form, and he kept repeating his line, she could hear a noise in the distance. Was it coming from next door? Kevin could hear it, too, and he looked over, his face melting at the edges, as it always did, but he was laughing this time, at Allison. "You heard right," he said. "Simple Allison." She thought about her line "do your worst," and she asked him, "Did you do this? Is this your worst?" Kevin laughed again, his face gone, only a skull remaining. "I didn't do this," he said. "You did this to yourself." He then let out a cackle that was unlike anything she had heard from him before. "What do you mean?" she asked, and she kept on asking, "what do you mean?" but all he did was laugh, his teeth chattering, and his bones rattling, until there was nothing but a clacking pile on the ground, as the house fell down around her.

—

Allison had the day off, so there was nothing to distract her that morning, nothing to keep her mind off where she wasn't going to go. Normally, on a day off, she'd head downstairs, she'd pester Patty until she went into the salon, she'd go out and bring coffee back from Dunkin’, she'd sit and read on Patty's blue couch until Patty came home from her usually short day. 

But instead she sat in Neil's old apartment (she knew it was hers, essentially, but it never quite seemed right to acknowledge it) and made herself tea, staring into space and waiting. She wasn't even sure what she was waiting for, but she kept waiting nevertheless. Late afternoon, she heard a knock on the door. It could only be one person. She walked over slowly and swung the door wide, doing her best to plaster on a smile. Patty looked at her oddly.

“Where’ve you been?” Patty asked, giving Allison a look that matched her words.

“Whaddya mean?” Allison returned, actually not certain.

“Usually I see you before 2 pm,” is all Patty said, her eyebrows furrowed, still eyeing Allison suspiciously.

“I was feeling like a day in,” Allison lied, “long night.”

“I thought it was slow,” Patty said.

“Picked up at the end of the night,” Allison raised an eyebrow. Would she acknowledge anything?

“What?” Patty responded. Allison concluded that it seemed like a no.

“Got busy,” Allison mumbled. “Or something.”

“Okay,” Patty threw off, annoyed.

“Well, I'm sorry I didn't check in on that movie, but it seemed like you wanted to turn in early.”

Patty seemed taken aback, but then agreed. So that's what they're calling it.

Allison scoffed.

“What's wrong with that?” Patty's annoyance was clear.

“Nothing. I was tired, too. Wasn't up for a movie anyway.”

“Good.”

“Good.” Allison shrugged.

After some silence, with the two of them juat standing there, with similar skeptical posture, “What's with you?” Patty asked.

“Just tired I guess. Couldn't sleep.” That much was true.

“Join the club,” Patty said, with no sympathy.

Allison nearly let out a laugh, but covered her mouth with her hand.

Patty didn't see what was funny, apparently. “I told you I haven't been able to sleep since I watched The Neverending Story.”

Allison just nodded. This was incredible. She didn't think Patty had it in her to lie to her this badly…anymore. It came as a bit of a shock.

Patty looked at Allison, but didn't say anything. Allison wondered whether her reaction was showing on her face. Or which part.

“What?” Allison asked after a while, Patty still giving her a look like she was trying to figure something out.

“I'm just waiting,” Patty said. “You look like you wanna say something, and I'm waiting for you to say it.”

“Same,” Allison said, “honestly.”

“I've got nothing to say,” Patty said, crossing her arms.

“Same,” Allison repeated. For good measure, she added, “So I guess I'll see you around.”

“Yeah, when you're in a better mood,” Patty grumbled.

“When you feel like telling me the truth,” Allison said, heading to the door, assuming Patty would follow. But Patty just stood there. Allison turned, and motioned with her head toward the door.

But all Patty said was “Ah.”

Allison gave in. “Didn't think I would find out eventually?”

“What exactly do you think you know?” Patty asked, forming her words with care.

Allison thought about what she wanted to admit. She found the answer was “not much.” “Whatever it is, I'd rather hear it from you.”

Patty frowned.

“So?” Allison asked. She wanted to hear it from Patty.

Patty stood there, looking like she was trying to decide how she would put it. Finally, she spoke. “Renée, um, asked me to dinner.” Patty said slowly, a look of resignation mixed with something else gracing her features. Did that mean she was happy about it? Or not?

“Why didn’t you just say so?” Allison asked very reasonably. She was nothing if not reasonable.

“Well, it’s just . . .”

“We’ve all been to dinner before,” Allison interjected, knowing it wasn't the point.

“But not like—”

“Like what?” She would pretend ignorance. She wanted Patty to tell her.

“Allison. Come on.”

“Come on, what? Like a date?” Allison smirked. She hadn't meant to smirk, but she couldn't help it.

“You know that's what I meant,” Patty said, arms crossed again and defensive.

“Well, I don’t know, if you don’t tell me.” Allison's arms crossed again in return.

“Come on, Allison.”

Allison knew she was feigning ignorance, but Patty was downright lying. It felt like shit to be lied to. And besides that, it felt like shit to be . . .“I had thought—” Allison started, “I had thought . . .” Allison did not entirely know what she wanted to say. I thought you would say no. I thought you'd turn her down.

“What?”

“You know, I thought that we were alone—” It sounded weird out loud in this context—it sounded wrong, even as she said it.

“That I would always be alone.” Patty spat, her voice suddenly full of venom. “That Tammy was a fluke,” she said, under her breath, but audible. 

Definitely wrong. That wasn’t it at all. “That we were both alone. You know—” It still sounded wrong somehow. On the porch it made sense. Now it did not.

“You know that wasn’t realistic.”

Did Allison know? Was she fooling herself? Could she blame herself for wanting that? “But—”

“No buts, Allison. I’ve done this for a year. I don’t think I can handle it forever. I don’t—”

Patty was now talking in riddles. She couldn’t handle being alone? Patty had always thrived on being alone. Right? “What?”

“This.” Patty pointed between the two of them.

“What’s wrong with this?” This what?

Patty shook her head, like she couldn’t stand it for another second. “I—just—I…”

Allison scoffed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were so dissatisfied. Just itching for a relationship…. I thought that you were okay for a while—”

“Allison.” What did Patty want? She had never said anything about this. Not a word.

“What? Why didn't you say anything? How was I supposed to know? We could’ve talked about it.” Allison began pacing.

“Look at me,” Patty said, her voice not accepting no for an answer. Allison stopped at Patty's words, and did as she was told.

“I’m looking at you.”

“You know,” Patty said, feeling behind her words that Allison, once again, couldn't quite place. Allison got déjà vu, was sent back to that time when she found out—no, Patty was right, not found out, but confirmed—that Patty wasn't just using Tammy for information. 

“What—no—I didn’t know. That's what I'm saying.” This time she very much did not know. How could she?

“You know, you’ve always known.”

“But I—” Always knew what?

“I thought I could do this forever, but I can’t. I can’t do it forever.” Patty looked down, looked away. She looked like something was ending. This was not . . . why?

“So what’re you saying?”

“You wanted to die alone together. I can’t do that. I can’t do that with you. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

“But…but…we’re still friends, right? You’re acting like. . . .you’re acting like we’re breaking up.”

“Well, aren’t we, kinda?” No, Allison thought. No, no, no. No.

“But I’m still gonna live upstairs, I still want to be around. I—you can do this, I won’t get in the way.” Allison was babbling, but it was beyond her control at this point. She had been mad, but all trace of anger was gone suddenly and the emptiness had taken its place. This couldn't happen.

“How generous.” Patty was still angry. Why was she angry?

“You know what I mean, I wouldn’t get in the way, I—”

“Allison, you’re always gonna get in the way.” Patty didn't say this with anger. This was said matter-of-factly.

“No, I promise, I won’t.”

“It won’t be up to you.” Huh?

“But—Patty—”

“You won’t be able to just come—snuggle up in bed with me, or whatever. Whenever you feel upset. I—I can’t— you can’t—have it both ways.”

“Both ways.” Allison repeated, desperate to understand. What was the other way?

Patty let out an incredulous laugh, like Allison should just get it. But she didn't know what there was to get. “Never mind.”

“But, Patty…”

“I—I gotta go, anyway,” Patty said, heading to the door.

“Go where?”

“Does it matter? Isn’t it time you got out there and did something for yourself, anyway? You wanted your fantasy, your dream. All you’ve done is hang out here and work at that damn diner. Get out there. Figure it out.”

“Do you mean date?” Where is this coming from?

“I dunno, date. Travel. Go back to school. You’ve talked about all kinds of things. You came back here to be Allison Devine. Go be her. Go out there and do what you’ve always wanted to do. No one's stopping you.” Patty made a shooing motion with her hand, as if Allison were some pest, some scraggly animal begging for crumbs.

Allison was not ignorant that those words were echoes of what Renée told her only a few days before. “But I—”

Patty walked out the door. Allison wanted to go after her . . . but to say what? Don't go? I won't bug you? Isn't that what she had already said?

Allison sat down. She came back to be Allison Devine, Patty said. But that wasn't it at all. “I came back for you,” she said out loud, to no one “I came back for this’” she said to herself. “I—that’s what I wanted. All I wanted.” 

Allison sighed. “I thought you knew that.” 

Chapter Text

Allison wondered how she used to be able to drink whiskey straight. As she sat at the bar, head in hand, it tasted unbelievably bitter. Each sip was worse than the last. The bartender walked over to her, a look of confused concern on his face.

“No good?”

“I dunno, it just isn’t working for me. Today.”

“Kinda strong, huh?”

“That’s not it, I can . . .” Allison wanted to say she could take it, that she did so regularly, that it just reminded her too much— But she ended up sticking with “never mind.”

“Do you want something else? On me?” The man smiled at her in a friendly (was it?) way that she didn’t expect. He had to be much younger than her. Or at least much younger than she felt. 

“I can pay.”

“But I’m saying you don’t have to.”

Allison grumbled.

“You can still tip.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Vodka soda.” It felt disloyal, almost. It felt ungrateful. She ordered it anyway.

“Whatever you say.” He smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Tyler, by the way. Ty, actually.”

Allison just nodded. 

“And you are?”

“I didn’t say.”

“All right, all right.”

“Allie.” That, too, felt disloyal. She relished it.

“Okay, Allie. A vodka soda. No more of this swill.” He grabbed the glass of whiskey. “Cheers.”

“You’re supposed to say that after I have a drink,” she called after him, but then sighed. Was that her own half-hearted attempt at flirting?

“Allison?” she heard from behind her. A familiar voice, but she couldn’t place it until she turned. It was Molly, which she only gathered so quickly because she was wearing the uniform from the bowling alley. She had seen her a few times, right around the funeral and after, but hadn’t run into her in months. Allison hadn’t been bowling since her return. Mostly to avoid running into Molly.

“Hiiiii,” Allison said, her voice raising unnaturally, her mouth turning up into an unnatural smile. “I mean, um, hey,” she said, shaking off the need to fake it, realizing how terrible and false the “hi” sounded. She had nothing against Molly. In fact, she owed her a lot. Molly had listened to her. Molly hadn’t acted as Kevin’s last safety net. Most of all, though, Molly seemed nice. Too nice, really. But not in a bad way. (Except maybe to Molly's own detriment.)

“Is this a bad time?” Molly's consideration was entirely sincere. As usual.

“A bad time for what?” It was always a bad time for Allison, lately. But Molly wasn’t likely to make it significantly worse.

“Oh, I just—I thought maybe I’d sit here,” Molly said, pointing to the stool beside Allison. “I come in here for a drink sometimes after work. Bartender’s nice.” She nodded towards him.

Allison chuckled. So much for the flirting. He was out for tips. “Ty?” she asked, and Molly nodded. And he knew his audience. “Knows how to get money from old ladies like us.”

Molly smiled. “Yeah, I think so.” Molly kinda shielded her mouth, as if to convey a secret. “But I don't mind, do you?”

Before Allison could respond, the bartender came back. “Hey, Molly! You two know each other?” He seemed completely unperturbed. Allison checked the “confirmed not interested” box. In her or Molly.

Molly put her head down a little. “Sorta.”

He leaned in. “Sounds interesting. Do tell.”

Molly looked over at Allison, who raised an eyebrow as if to say “Do you want me to tell him?”

Molly shrugged sheepishly. 

“Oh, now I have to know,” Ty said, leaning in further, chin resting in both hands. He was fairly tall and had to bend down awkwardly. The result was comical, and he knew it.

Allison smiled and took a long sip of the fresh vodka soda. It wasn’t perfect, but it sure beat the sting of the whiskey. The one she couldn't stomach right now. “It’s a long story.”

Ty looked down the bar, where one guy was drinking at the far end, a beer sitting in front of him that looked like it had hardly been touched. “I’ve got time. Mr. Divorce over there is nursing that one.”

“Mr. Divorce, huh?” Allison asked.

“Well, he’s headed there.” Ty shrugged.

Allison looked over at Molly, “You wanna scam drinks from married guys?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

Molly smiled, noncommittal.

“Hold on, hold on, wait a second, before you go scamming my friend down there, you owe me a story.”

“Owe you?”

“Drink was free, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, I can still pay for it.”

“Come on, pretty pretty please,” he batted his eyelashes. It was ridiculous. As were his dark, full eyelashes, which probably made women jealous as much as they made women swoon. Who was this guy and what was he doing in Worcester?

“Fine,” Allison said, looking over at Molly for continued permission, which Molly didn’t deny. “Well, if you must know, I died for a short time, and Molly, here, she dated my husband while I was gone.”

“What? No!” Tyler laughed awkwardly like she must be joking, before a look of recognition came to his face. “Hold on, hold on, you—you’re Allison McRoberts!—”

“Devine.” 

“—I knew you looked familiar.”

“Oh, great.” Allison smirked.

“Allie, huh?”

“Nickname.”

“Sure. That’s crazy. So wait—your husband—he, uh, he—”

“Burned down our house with him in it.” Allison said, simply. 

“I’m sorry?” Ty said, at first with sympathy, and then with a brow raised in question.

Allison nodded gravely. Molly mirrored her. Allison wasn't sure how Molly really felt about the whole thing. At the funeral she had seemed spooked, but it wasn't always clear what she had been spooked about, exactly.

“That bad, huh?” Ty, who had been focusing on Allison's response, laughed. “But no kidding.  So you two were rivals?” he asked playfully, looking from one to another.

“Not exactly,” Allison said. 

Molly winced. But she didn’t disagree.

“I guess I’ll leave it,” Ty concluded after they didn't elaborate. “So you two are friends?”

“Friendly,” Allison said. “Can’t say this was planned.” She looked at Molly, considering. She did sit down here. On purpose. “But maybe we ought to be. We have a lot in common.” She turned to Molly and she could feel a small sort of smile forming on one side of her mouth.

Molly smiled, graciously. “Guess you can say that.”

Ty nodded his approval. “Just call me a matchmaker.”

Allison gave him a sharp look, but then wondered at her own response. She changed the subject.  “You wanna tell Mr. Divorce down there that Molly needs a drink?”

Ty looked over, then back at Molly and nodded. He gave her a wink. Molly looked away, embarrassed.

As he moved down to the other end of the bar, Molly and Allison could watch him say something to the man in the rumpled suit, who was still moping over his beer. They couldn’t hear a word, but the man turned towards them and Allison gave a little wave. Molly looked at her with amazement.

“Are you serious?” Molly's mouth hung open for a second.

“The drink is for you,” Allison replied, realizing she felt a little giddy, like the drink was kicking in, but not the maudlin feeling that alcohol had been giving her lately.

Molly’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t ask for it!”

“But you’ll get it.” And sure enough, a minute later, Ty came back over. 

“Lady’s choice,” he said, winking again at Molly, and nodding toward the end of the bar. When they looked over, the man gave them a reluctant smile. “Made his night,” Ty said.

“Oh, I bet,” Molly said, unable to look down the bar, keeping her head turned away like she'd rather hide in the corner.

“So what’ll it be?” Allison and Ty asked, simultaneously, and laughed. 

“Vodka soda, I guess,” Molly smiled, like she finally was in on the fun. “Seems to really be working for Allison tonight.”

Allison took a long swallow.

—

A couple more guys at the bar (who they never spoke to) and a couple more drinks later, Allison was feeling like a weight had been lifted. “So you don’t actually want to be working at the bowling alley?” she asked, in response to Molly’s most recent comment. It was half a joke. 

“Sometimes I’d just like to get out there, you know?” Molly laughed softly. “I guess you do know.”

Allison grimaced. She had never fully explained the circumstances of her disappearance to Molly. But Molly seemed to get it, given what she had told her.

Molly continued. “But you at least were able to get out there for a while. I haven’t been out of Massachusetts.” This was said with a sigh. “Ever,” Molly added.

“I guess I—well I didn’t get to enjoy it much,” Allison said. 

“Because you were—” Molly’s voice quieted. “On the run?” she asked, in a whisper.

“Yeah, that.” Allison said. That wasn’t the only reason. But that was part of it, too. Kinda. She thought about her time away—always running, always looking over her shoulder, always longing to go home. It wasn't exactly a vacation.

Molly nodded like she understood, but Allison knew she couldn’t really. “Some days, though, I just want to escape. I want to just—fly to Paris or somethin’.”

Allison’s face must’ve changed, because Molly furrowed her brow.

“What’d I say?” she asked, with feeling.

“I guess I just—one time, I decided we should go to Paris—Kevin and I.”

“Oh, did you enjoy it?” Molly smiled, as if to say, lucky you.

Allison shook her head. “Never happened.” Molly nodded in sympathy.

Allison thought back to what Patty had told her during their last conversation, which put her in mind of an earlier time. Celine Dion's second CD. “I always thought it would be fun to be a truck driver. But I guess you can’t drive a truck to Paris.”

“Well, actually, if you drive the truck onto a boat, and then . . .” Molly started.

“Did I hear Paris?” Ty came up to the two of them.

Allison smiled awkwardly. “Nothing that the two of us know less about, probably.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what. I know Paris.”

“You do?”

“Paris, Texas. But you know, same thing, right?” He laughed.

Allison rolled her eyes good-naturedly. 

“Hey, don’t knock my hometown.”

“Texas, really, where’s your accent?”

“If you must know, I can turn it on and off at will.” He said the latter half in a thick drawl that made them both laugh.

“Must be nice. I sound like Worcester whether I like it or not.” Allison sighed and Molly agreed. 

Leaning in for a more conspiratorial conversation, Ty admitted, “Well, I’ve been in flight attendant training, so I figured it was a good skill to pick up. I can also do Chicago,” he said the last with a flat midwestern a, and Molly laughed.

“I wish I could sound like anything but Massachusetts bowling alley,” Molly said with a frown, “I think it’s too late for me.”

“Hey!” Ty said, putting his hand on both their shoulders. “You two both seem like you could use a change of scenery.”

Allison and Molly looked at each other, then looked at him. “Oh?”

“We’re hiring for the next round of training. I can get you applications.”

Allison gave him a skeptical look. “Aren’t I a bit old for that?”

“No age limits,” he said, hands up in defense. 

“None listed.”

“I bet you could pass for twenty-five if you wanted.” He said it to both of them.

“Maybe thirty-five,” Allison said, thinking of Patty's comment about thirty, thinking she could also pass for forty-five when she needed to.

“You can’t possibly be older than that.”

“Try me,” Allison replied.

“Try me,” Molly added. 

Ty shook his head. “Regardless, they don’t care. You’ve got customer service experience, right?”

Molly nodded, looking down at her uniform, and Allison said, “how would you know?”

Ty smiled slyly. “They interviewed everyone at the diner when you went missing.”

Allison sighed. She wished random people didn’t know so many details about her life. She had started to forget she was something of a local celebrity—she guessed she hadn’t been out much in a long time.

Ty kept going. “But, you do, don’t you? And you can swim, I know that. How about you?” he turned to Molly.

“Not like she can,” she answered, nodding to Allison.

Allison looked over as if to say you too? and Molly shrugged. Allison supposed Molly had more reason to find out about Allison’s background than the average person.

“You finished high school?” Ty asked.

“Yeah, but that’s it, I don’t have—”

“That’s all you need. All set. I’ll forward you the forms. I expect to see you at the next session.”

“If our applications aren’t thrown in the trash.” Allison scoffed.

“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers. They need people. No one wanted to fly during the pandemic.”

“That can’t be true.”

“Oh, it can for us. We’re pathetic. That's how I got the job.”

“Are we signing ourselves up for some sort of a death trap?” Allison asked. 

“Maybe,” Ty admitted, and Molly looked alarmed. “But, you gotta start somewhere, right?”

Allison was inclined to agree.

—

Ty was true to his word, and the next day, Allison received the application information by email. She thought about it, and there was really nothing stopping her. It was kinda like being a truck driver, right? The open air, not the open road? She’d have to travel, necessarily. And maybe eventually she’d get to go somewhere good. Maybe not Paris (based on the flight information she could find), but maybe, you know, North Dakota? To see if there were snakes, after all? 

Despite living directly above her, Allison hadn't seen Patty in a few weeks. She assumed it was deliberate, but there was no evidence either way. If it weren’t for the regular cycles of the trash and the fact that they shared the laundry room, Allison might have assumed that Patty had moved out entirely.  But as it was, Allison just had to smell her laundry detergent weekly and mourn the fact that there was nowhere to go at the end of the day. 

And she started having to go to the library to check out books instead of borrowing from Patty. The last one she had borrowed she had quietly slipped back into Patty’s apartment when she knew she’d be at work. She wondered if Patty would notice. Probably not. Renee’s car hadn’t been back, but there was no other reasonable explanation for where Patty was, and the fact that she was trying to hide it (or so it seemed) was somehow worse than if they had all just . . . gotten along? Allison wished she had said something differently. She knew she had made it about herself. And it wasn’t. It shouldn’t have been. But there was also . . . she wanted to say nothing she could do to fix it. But that wasn’t entirely true. She probably could fix it. Maybe. If she just apologized, right? But what if she couldn’t? And somehow that was worse. If she tried to fix it and it didn’t work. Then that would be it. No more tries. No hope.

Arriving at work that evening, Sam had his concerned look. Allison tried to ignore it, but he’d bring it back every time they caught each other’s eye. 

“What is it?” she finally said, when they were both brought behind the bar for a moment. 

“What? You’re the one who looks like she’s about to . . . run away again.” 

“I’m not going to fake my own death. I think there’s a limit on how many times everyone believes you on that one.”

Sam nodded. “So you’ve thought about it.”

“No!” Allison had thought about leaving. Moving and never coming back. But that was it. That wasn't the same thing. She thought about moving to the desert. But not with Sam.

“So what’s up? You have the exact same look on your face that you did then. It’s freaking me out.” 

“Would that be so bad?” Allison wondered if Sam would be all that upset if she left again. Patty had implied that he took it blithely the last time.

“You said you weren’t thinking about it.” Sam's voice had that edge of exasperation that he always seemed to get when she wanted to have a real discussion. She forgot how irritating that was.

“I’m not. But—”

“But what?”

“I’m thinking about a change of scenery.”

“I hope you just mean a vacation. A real one.”

“Well, not exactly. It’s kind of an . . . opportunity, I guess. But it’s not very likely I’ll get it.”

“I see.”

“It’s nothing bad.”

“Sure.”

Allison made a face, trying for sincerity, trying to convince. 

“Well, if it means you can’t work here anymore, I hope you know how much this place will miss you.”

“This place?”

“And me.” There wasn't enough certainty in his voice.

“Is that a question?”

“Oh, you know—of course I’ll miss you. I did the first time.”

Right. “I’m not faking my death!”

“You know what I mean.”

“Okay, okay.”

“So what does Patty think about this ‘opportunity?’” Sam said, without guile. Allison hadn’t said anything about their . . . disagreement. She didn’t know if Patty and Sam talked much. She didn't want to put him in the middle.

“Oh, you know.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You’re looking for a change in scenery and she doesn’t have an opinion about it?” 

“She can live without me, you know.” Allison figured that was a big understatement.

“Yeah, I’ve seen her do it before.” Sam said, incredulous.

“See, exactly, you’ve seen her do it before.” Allison chose not to understand his meaning.

“How is she, by the way? I haven’t heard from her.”

Well, that answered one thing. “Oh, you know.”

“You said that already.”

“We’ve been busy.”

“With what?”

“You know. Work. Stuff.” Allison prevaricated.

“Doesn’t sound suspicious at all.”

“Whatever, Sam. Shouldn’t you be getting coffee for booth 2?”

Sam looked over, and his face reluctantly admitted she was right. “This isn’t over,” he called over his shoulder.

“What isn’t over?” Allison said, as he walked away. She tried her best to avoid him for the rest of the night, with some success. The looks kept coming, but she refused to talk further. She’d have to wait for the outcome. 

—

A few weeks later, Molly’s voice came through, shaking, on the other end of the line. “Hey,” was all she said. But there was a question to it.

“Did you—did you hear back?” Allison ventured, a sheet of paper held out in front of her. Her hand was shaking. 

“I . . . I did.”

“And . . .?” Allison didn’t want to say first.

“I . . . I got it. I start—”

“Next Monday?”

“Yes! You too?”

“Yes!” Allison could hear the excitement in her own voice and realized she was, in fact, excited. She had been through about three rounds of interviews, and she had checked in with Molly every time, every time thinking it was impossible that they would get to do this. But it seemed like it was really happening. This was an adventure, wasn’t it?

“Oh, thank god.” Molly sounded incredibly relieved.

“I would’ve been happy for you no matter what.” Allison meant it. 

“But now—are we in the same group? Or—I don’t even know . . .”

“Report at 8:30 am, building 4?” Allison read from the letter.

“That’s—yes, that’s what mine says, too.”

“Oh, good.  Good. Thank god. I—you know what?”

“What?”

“Somehow I feel like this was fated.” It was weird, thinking of how this came about.

“Fated?”

“Like—what are the chances I run into you, and it’s you, and—this is so unlikely.” Allison might never have known Molly. Or she might have been a rival—on Kevin's side in a bitter divorce fight. But no, here she was, about to take a chance with Allison. All because Allison had decided one day not to drink alone in the apartment and went out instead.

“I know what you mean.”

“God, I hope this doesn’t suck.”

“Well if it does, we’ll quit.” Molly made it sound so easy. But it was easy, wasn't it? It was easy now to leave a bad situation. She wasn't signing up for eternity. 

Allison chuckled. “Deal. Don’t hide it if you think it sucks. We'll be in this together.”

“Promise.”

Allison sighed. She’d have to tell Sam. But she thought—everyone was right—it was time. Time for something new.

Chapter Text

Molly and Allison's flights were scheduled more or less at the same time that morning, when they walked into the main terminal of Logan airport. 

“Hey, you two made it!” They heard from across the room, as Ty waved them over. He was standing with another guy—tall, thin, with unnaturally blond hair. Next to each other—in their attendant uniforms, their hair, with faded sides, the top slicked back and over in nearly identical fashion—they looked like different versions of the same Ken doll.

“You doubted us?” Molly asked, with uncharacteristic sass. Allison appreciated that she had gained a little bit of nerve since they first started out. 

“Never, never. I was just telling Jake that I hoped to see the two of you. Wasn’t I?” Ty gave the other one a nudge with his elbow.

Jake rolled his eyes exaggeratingly. “Don’t listen to a word he says, ladies, he’s a liar. And a flirt.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Ty returned. Allison furrowed her brow, but then realization dawned. Oh, Allison thought. Oh I see.

Ty looked at her, and she tried to school her features. He winked. She wasn’t sure what to do with that. He winked entirely too much.

“Well, we’re here. We’ve got a few flights under our belt. We’re practically veterans.” Allison said, feeling awkward suddenly.  But Ty just smiled. 

“You have a crash pad yet?” 

“A what?”

“A—you don’t—you have to know about—”

“Oh, right, right,” Allison felt like an idiot. She had heard about the concept, she had been trying to feel out some of the other attendants, but she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. And in the back of her mind she was reluctant—more than reluctant—to give up her apartment. “Not yet. But I’ve been back and forth to Boston way too often and I’m gonna drop over pretty soon. You still working at the Seas?”

Ty laughed. “Nah, once training was over, I high-tailed it out of there. Got some nice tips along the way, though,” he smiled like she was in on the secret. 

“Of course you did.”

Molly laughed, too. “Actually, I heard about a place, was gonna tell you, Allison, had a few spots open up starting next month. I want to keep my apartment in Worcester, but it would sure be nice . . .”

“I—” Allison wanted to agree, but her own apartment . . . it was a special case. And she couldn't just abandon it and leave Patty with no tenant when she wasn't even paying rent….

Oh, that’s probably our place,” Ty said. Jake here and his boyfriend are off to Florida. Or something.” Ty sounded slightly annoyed by this.

“Yeah, yeah. Our room is opening up, and you two would be perfect for it. I can just tell.” Jake smiled, but there was something off, and Allison just got a weird vibe from him.

“Room?” Molly was clearly interested.

“Oh, very very spacious accommodations. Two beds, I swear to god.” Jake crossed his heart for good measure.

Ty laughed. “Yeah, right. Two pushed together.”

“I didn’t say anything about the distance between them. Sometimes you need space to spread out.”

Allison chuckled nervously and looked at Molly, who seemed to find the whole conversation unremarkable.

“That would be perfect.” Molly weighed in, “I’m sick of schlepping back and forth. And I need to get out of Worcester, for a change.”

Allison just nodded. It wasn’t agreement, but maybe it would buy her time.

“Well, if Ty here says you’re okay, then that’s all the recommendation we need.”

Molly spoke up. “And I heard about it from Rachel—she said she gets the final say—”

"Sure she does,” Ty offered.

“Well, if she likes to think she does . . .” Jake added.

Ty continued, laughing. “Purely democratic system, you see. Well, if you’re looking to move in, you’d better come to the party on Thursday.” Ty stated this simply as a matter of fact.

"This Thursday?” Allison and Molly said it nearly simultaneously.

“Yeah. You have flights?”

“I—no, actually, we were talking about grabbing lunch in Worcester since we were both going to be in town for the day,” Molly explained. “We could probably get to Boston by then.” Allison wasn’t sure she wanted to promise any such thing. But it was kinda too late.

“Bring some stuff like you’re moving in, and you’ll be halfway there.”

“But you won’t be leaving until next month?” Allison was hoping this wasn’t all happening quite so fast.

“First come, first serve, right? Pack your bags and come on over. We’ll make it a wild night and no one will want you to leave.”

“Oh, um, is it always . . . wild like that?” Molly asked, hesitatingly. Good thing she didn’t spend too much time with Kevin, Allison was thinking.

Ty laughed. “No, and I doubt it will be on Thursday. We’re pretty lame. Promise.”

Molly laughed nervously. “Guess we’ll see you Thursday. We’re back in the air on Friday afternoon, so—”

“Ah, yes, weekends. Not surprising.”

“You have been doing this, what, a few months longer?” Allison narrowed her eyes at Ty.

“Details,” Ty said. “But Jake here is a pro. So, he knows. And that’s also why he gets to relocate.”

“Gets to?”

Jake laughed, a dismissive laugh with an edge of superiority that made Allison wrinkle her nose a bit in disgust. Who was this guy? “Oh, I transferred out of here as fast as I could. Winter in Massachusetts? Why would you ever? I've lived here my whole goddamn life. It’s time for a change.”

Allison frowned. Sure, she bundled up this morning, but . . . she didn’t really know anything else. 

Jake smirked. “Oh, you’ll see. Wait until you’ve been around a bit. Made some comparisons. Massachusetts is fucking cold."

—

Allison was rushing to get to the cafe where she was supposed to meet Molly. They didn’t have much time if they wanted to get out to Boston by the evening (and pack, for goodness’ sake). What was supposed to be a relaxing day in town was turning out to be a big pain in the ass. From the end of the block, she could see someone lingering in front of the restaurant, a coat with a faux-fur hood—scarf blowing behind her—and Allison was afraid Molly had been waiting for her. Why didn’t she just wait inside in this weather?

As she approached, however, she realized it wasn’t Molly. The woman turned, and it was, to Allison's surprise, Renée Donnelly. “Oh! Hello,” Allison said, without thinking, a frown making its way to her lips involuntarily.

“Hi! Long time no see! Did Patty invite you?” Renée asked, her tone cheerful, like it wasn’t an absurd idea. Like she wished it were true.

“Oh, um, no?” Allison looked around. Was Patty here?

“Oh, I thought maybe she told you to meet us for lunch,” Renée shrugged. “I kinda got the impression she hasn’t seen much of you lately.” Allison narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what Renée knew. But there was no look of recognition. No tsk of disapproval or raised eyebrow of complicity.

“Guess not.” Allison said, a surge of envy shooting through her, her frown deepening to a scowl before she could register the reason for it.

Renée’s face fell. “I—I didn’t mean to—” Renée started, looking a bit confused. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, great,” Allison said quickly. “Just meeting a friend in the cafe right here. You two want to join us?” This last part, Allison said with all the effort she could muster. It showed.

Renée looked up, and then across the street. “Oh, um, no, actually, I guess I want to be across the street. Worse luck.” She suddenly seemed distracted. “See you around.” She ran across the street without hesitation, leaving Allison staring after her, before she, too, hurried inside. To her relief, Molly was there, already sitting at a table by the window.

Allison let out a long breath.

“You okay?” Molly looked concerned. 

“So much to do today, y'know?” Allison said, shrugging out of her coat and setting her bag beside her. Trying to gain her composure, she didn’t look up right away. The wind must’ve been really blowing to sting her eyes like that.

“You decide what you want to do about Patty’s apartment?” 

Allison looked up, biting her lip to keep from reacting to the rather on-point question. She hadn’t. She had been deliberately not thinking about it, in fact. All morning. Overnight. For days.

“It probably makes sense to give it up, if you’re never going to be there. You can stay at my place when you’re in town. My roommate is going to take over the lease, but she says I can stop by anytime and use my old room. It just makes sense. It doesn’t make sense for us both to have a place. Not if we’re never going to be here.”

“Yeah…” We’ll never be in Worcester, Allison thought. What was there in Worcester, anyway? Diane? And that was about it.

“Speak of the devil!” Molly exclaimed, suddenly. “Isn’t that Patty across the street?” Molly looked out, and Allison’s gaze followed, even though she knew it was coming. And there was Patty. There, too, was Renée again. And, before Allison could turn back to their conversation, a long, lingering kiss followed. Allison couldn’t look away—she was frozen, rapt attention—as if the performance was solely for her benefit. Her face slowly morphed itself into a look of horror. 

“What is it?” Molly asked, catching Allison’s gaze still resting on the pair across the street, the haunted look in her eyes.

“Nothing,” Allison said, her features returning to neutral, her head twisting away from the window quickly enough that Molly, intrigued, looked back out and truly saw what Allison was seeing. 

“Oh,” Molly said, looking back at Allison again, curious.

“Oh what?” Allison gave her a half smile, and felt like she was hiding something. Was she hiding something?

“Are you okay? Does that—upset—you . . .?” Molly nodded towards the outside, a look on her face that was asking more than Allison wanted to answer.

“No. No no no.” Allison shook her head. Molly was implying . . . was Molly implying what she thought she was implying?

“It’s okay, you know,” Molly said. “If it does.”

Allison hadn’t even thought of it that way. “No, no, but, it’s not what . . . it's not . . . We were friends.” Allison looked at Molly, trying to convince her. But convince her of what? And why did she feel like she had to?

Molly didn’t say anything for a while. She looked at Allison, with a mixture of curiosity and empathy. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Of course. Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Because. Of course it's not like that. But it doesn’t mean that I'm happy about—” Allison didn’t know how to explain. It wasn’t something she could articulate.

“You two haven’t seen much of each other, have you?” Molly asked, simply. It was a question Allison felt she could safely answer.

“No.”

“That’s a shame.” Molly took a sip of water and looked away, for which Allison was grateful. The scrutiny, little as it was, felt unbearable.

“What makes you say that?”

“You two just seemed so—I dunno—close?”

Allison’s face was pinching, she could feel it. She didn’t want to cry, but she was dangerously close to it. 

“I mean, I barely knew you, but I could see it. What happened?” Molly's invitation to share, so simple and ingenuous, was hard to resist.

“Nothing, it—nothing. We just grew apart.” Or Patty grew apart and I just—didn’t do anything, Allison thought.

Molly’s eyebrows furrowed, but she didn’t say more. 

“It’s all—it’s not a big deal. I just get nostalgic sometimes,” Allison said, keeping her face straight ahead, not turning toward the outside. “We’d better eat. I’m going to have to clear my stuff from the apartment. Luckily, I don’t have much there.”

—

Other than the one that she now used for flights, Allison owned only one suitcase. It wasn't even a suitcase, really, but a duffle bag. She had too many clothes to fit into it, but other than that, she hadn’t really changed anything about the apartment. Everything that was in there was there when she arrived (or soon after), and wasn’t really hers. She never spent much time there, she always hung out at Patty’s. 

Until she didn't.

Molly was waiting outside, Allison knew, and they didn’t have a lot of time (not that Molly would ever say anything). But a part of Allison just wanted to lay down on the couch and breathe in the air for the last time. 

This apartment, when she moved in, had felt so much like freedom. She didn’t know she wouldn’t spend much time there, she just knew that Patty was downstairs, that Kevin was gone, and that her life was whatever she wanted it to be. 

Now, she supposed, she was finally doing something. Maybe not what she thought she’d be doing, but there was a level of excitement—and a distraction from everything she thought she'd have and missed. There wasn’t much else to do but push forward. Move on. And she would get to move on as Allison Devine. Not as Gertrude Fronch. Not as Mrs. McRoberts. 

She took a deep breath and wrote the note. She paused on the closing, but she said what she meant. After all, what did it matter, if she was gone?

She dropped the key into the envelope and wrote “Patty” on the front, trying not to think about what it meant. She stuck the letter behind the screen door, and hoisted her bags over her shoulder, throwing them into Molly’s trunk. And then they were off.

—

Hours later, they were in the midst of a crowded house party, when Jake snuck them up to the room, bags in tow, to stake a claim. Ty joined them on the stairs.

“You really packed in a trash bag?” Ty laughed, looking at Allison’s haul. 

“I was in a rush.”

“Pathetic,” he said with a smile.

When they got to the room, they were a bit surprised at how large it was. There were, in fact, two full beds, almost like a hotel room, and a desk, and a chair in the corner. It was more they could ask for, for the apparent cost, and Allison looked at Molly with a measure of relief. 

Molly and Allison set down their things, Jake pulling Molly towards the door. “Let’s introduce you to the crew. And the punch I made.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Molly said, following. “You coming?” she turned and asked Allison, her face pleading for a friend to join her.

“Oh, hold up, I wanted to talk to you for a second.” Ty grabbed Allison's hand briefly to hold her there, before dropping it again.

Allison shrugged and motioned to Molly to go ahead before turning to Ty with a questioning look.

He smiled. “I’ve got a bottle of whiskey I think you’ll like a little better than that rail shit we had at the Seas,” he said.

Allison looked around. “I don’t see a glass, should we go downstairs?”

“A glass?” He took the bottle and twisted off the cap. He took a swig. “This is how I prefer it.”

Allison looked at him wearily.

“Oh, come on. I promise I don’t have herpes.” Allison’s eyes widened. “That’s not reassuring?” he asked, as he laughed.

She took the bottle, with some hesitation, and took a swig. She could use to forget, she could use to clear her mind. To her surprise, it was incredibly smooth. “What is this?”

“I told you—this is the good stuff. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

“Jake's goodbye party?”

“Sure, yes, exactly,” he said, giving her a look that she swore was . . . interested, if she hadn’t thought . . .

She took another sip, a long one, and looked back at Ty's face, who was still staring at her in a way that made her both warm and uncomfortable. She handed him the bottle and sat down on the very edge of the bed, gripping the comforter, allowing herself to pretend she wasn’t inviting anything. It was just the only place to sit . . . now that her bags were sitting on the chair in the corner. 

Ty sat down next to her, leaving some space. continuing to sip. “So, Allie, what are you trying to escape?”

“What do you mean?” Did she say she was trying to escape? What had she said at the bar that night? “Kevin?” She remembered talking about that.

“Well I guess I know what you were trying to escape,” he said, laughing. “But that seems to have resolved itself. What are you running away from now?”

“Who says I’m running away from something?”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Not always. I—”

Ty put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “No need to get defensive. I’ll go first. I’m running away from my hometown. My parents. Their friends.”

Allison frowned. She thought of her mother. Her mother ran away on her own. Thank god. She just nodded.

“Did I say something?” Ty hesitated, “Oh—oh no, your parents aren’t dead, are they?”

Allison winced. “My dad.”

“Oh—I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t make it better.”

“He was the good one.”

Ty smiled without laughing, a concession to solemnity. “You're running from your mother,  then?”

“No need. I barely see her.”

“Then who?”

“Does it always have to be a who?”

“That response sure makes me think it is.”

Allison held out her hand for the whiskey bottle and took a couple of long gulps.

“Jesus.”

The word–or maybe the way he said it—made her shiver. 

“That bad, huh?”

Allison’s glance could kill.

“It was the diner guy, wasn’t it? I remember him. He looked like he could be a heartbreaker.”

Allison shook her head. How much of her disappearance did this guy follow? And why does everyone think that? “No one broke my heart.”

“Are you sure? You’re responding like I’m rooting around where I’m not wanted.” He smirked. “So I must be on to something.”

A wave of lightheadedness passed through Allison, and it reminded her of the day Renée had asked her about Patty. 

“Oh, shit, are you okay?” Ty waved a hand in front of her face, fanning her like she was about to faint. His hand landed on her shoulder, steadying her.

“I’m fine,” she said, a little more forcefully than intended.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m just a little concerned.” He removed his hand.

“What’s with all the questions?” 

“I—I find you interesting,” Ty said, sincerity in his tone. “I can’t say that about everybody. And certainly not many folks around here. For example—you and Molly—how did you ever get to be friends? Not everyone would do that.”

“Do what?”

“Befriend the woman her husband moved on with. Even if she hated him.”

“Molly . . . she’s a good person. She didn’t deserve Kevin.”

“The way you say it makes it sound like you thought that you did.”

“I—maybe I did. Maybe we deserved each other.”

“That's unlikely. That guy—your husband—seemed like a real douche. The Worcester Wild Dude? And he wasn’t even good-looking.” Allison couldn't believe Ty knew about that. She guessed everyone who lived in the Worcester area knew about that . . .

Allison looked far off. “He made me laugh. Once.”

“Only once, huh?” Ty chuckled. 

“You know what I mean,” she responded with some bite.

“Ouch! Very testy today. Have another drink.” He offered the bottle.

That earned him another glare.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so glib. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Adds to your mystery.” He waved his fingers at her and smiled.

“There’s no mystery to me,” Allison said. “Just a bunch of wasted chances.” She sighed.

“Well, you’re not wasting this one.” The whiskey was still held out in front of her for the taking.

“I ran out of them.”

“So what’s this, then? You change careers, you travel around? What’s this?”

Allison shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Seems like a chance to me,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulder.

For some reason, she would have thought this would annoy her, but she found it comforting. She curled into him, her face resting against his shoulder, where he smelled of some fresh-scented soap or deoderant that didn’t give her any associations. It was just a warm, inviting smell, and she shut her eyes, and she could feel them going wet beneath her lids. She sniffed, involuntarily, and he tightened his arm around her, pulling her into his sweater, which was unexpectedly soft. “Oh fuck,” she said, muffled, against him.

“Is this so terrible?” he asked, putting his other hand up to run his hand through her hair.

“Yes,” she said, still facing into his chest. She pulled back. “I don’t cry. I—the last time I cried it was—I was—I wasn’t in a good place.”

“Well, maybe sometimes you ought to. And maybe that’s how you know something has to change.”

Allison thought about the tub, about the warm feeling she got when Patty rested her head on hers. She looked up into his eyes, almost expecting the fear that she saw reflected from Patty that night. Well, it had looked like fear. It must’ve been something else. But there was no trace of hesitation in Ty's eyes. Just an intensity and resolve.

She raised her face a bit, wondering what he intended to say. She didn’t want him to say it. “You ever think dying alone would be the best possible outcome?” she said, before he could speak.

“Morbid, huh?” he said, smiling again, his face relaxing.

“No, just realistic.”

“I’ve given it a little thought," he offered.

His response surprised her.  “Really?”

“Every time I’m set to visit home, something like that goes through my mind. Or it does once I get there.”

The way he said it made Allison think he meant it. Were his parents so bad? Did they not understand (Allison knew her own mom wouldn't). Was their own relationship a poor one? She found herself curious about what could trouble someone with as much apparent confidence as Ty. But he didn't explain further. “You planning a visit soon?”

Ty smiled. “Not very soon. But I planned to go in April. It's been on my mind—they hectored me about missing Christmas. My mom's birthday is in April.” He chuckled. “You know—I think this time I’d like to take you with me. Make it a little more fun.”

She looked at him like he was nuts. Maybe he was. She didn't know him, after all. Not really. “Won’t your parents get the wrong idea?” She thought it made sense to clarify that right now.

“Nah,” he said, with apparent unconcern. He didn't elaborate. 

“How do you know we’ll even still be on speaking terms in three months?”

“I’ll be on good behavior,” he smiled. “No funny business.” 

“In other words, we’ll barely see each other before then.” Allison knew it was pretty likely true. They flew different routes and had yet to overlap.

“Maybe. But I’ll text you.”

She thought of Patty, of how Patty’s terse responses made her laugh out loud. How much she missed that. “I hate texting.”

“Not the way I do it.”

“Oh, come on.” What did that even mean?

“Fine. But, how’s this—" He grabbed her hand again, rubbed his thumb across the back of her fingers. She tried to decide if it was comforting. "We set ourselves up for a few days off at the same time, and we have ourselves a little trip to Paris.” He beamed like it was the most entertaining thing anyone had ever said.

“Paris?” Allison’s head was still fuzzy, and she had no idea what was going on here, but she thought she had heard that right.

“Of course. My home town.” He smiled. “I’ve been told that you’ve always wanted to go.”

Chapter Text

April - a few months later

“Well, Sweets, maybe you can't go to this one, but are you ever gonna be back in town again?” Allison could tell by her voice that Diane really did want to see her—and she was inviting her to a book club. She didn't even know Diane read books. At least the kind that would be discussed at a book club. But maybe now she finally had time. Allison knew how that was.

“Yeah, probably.” Allison, as she rolled her travel bag through the—where was she again?—right, Pittsburgh—airport, she tried to figure out when she'd be back in Worcester, but she had traded some of her other time off so that she could make this trip and it wasn't so clear when she’d be back again. She held the phone to her ear with her shoulder while she went to grab her ID from her bag.

“I thought you said you had a week off?” Diane sounded hopeful.

“Yeah, but I told you, I'm going to Paris. With Tyler.” Allison felt like his full name sounded better somehow. It had more gravity. 

“So that's getting serious.”

“No, no, not like that. We're friends.”

“Of course, Allison.” Diane let out a little scoff. “Your definition of friend has confused me sometimes.” 

“What do you mean?” Allison wondered if she was making a veiled reference to Sam. He, too, was just a friend. These days. She ought to give him a call . . .

“Oh I dunno." Whatever she intended, Diane didn't elaborate. "I wanted to introduce you to a ‘friend’ of mine, too. You’ve met him. Bill.”

“Bill who? So I know him?”

“Terrell.”

“Billy? The P.I.?”

“Well, I don't call him Billy, that makes it sound like he's five.”

Allison almost said she thought Diane liked younger men, but thought better of it. “How did that happen?” Billy was . . . well, Billy was certainly a step up from Uncle Chuck, wasn’t he?

“We ran into each other again—nothing to do with goin’ on Snapped.” Diane let out a weak laugh. “Thirtieth reunion. Or was it thirty-fifth?”

“You went to high school together?”

“I thought you knew that? Didn't I say?”

Allison should’ve figured. Everyone in Worcester seemed to have known each other since birth. Patty went to Allison’s high school, after all. It was an extremely small world. “But—anyway, Diane, this is news.”

“Well I thought it might be fun, you could bring this Tyler fella here, we could all go out together—-”

“We're not dating!”

“Doesn't mean you couldn't bring him, Sweets.”

“Okay, then how about I bring Molly sometime?”

“You're dating Molly now? That's ironic.” Diane's distraction was showing.

“No! I'm just saying if you want a fourth I can bring a fourth.”

“Whatever you say, Sweets. But you gotta come home first.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Diane was silent for a second

 “Why wouldn't you bring Patty?” Diane sounded like this was a profound—and sudden—realization.

“She's probably busy with Renée,” Allison said quickly.

“Oh. I see.”

Allison sighed.

“How's that going for her, anyway?”

“How should I know?” Allison couldn't know if nobody told her. The last she saw it was going . . . well.

“Ah. Given how you never call me, and you're never in town, I'm guessing you and Patty don't talk as much as you used to?” There was a disappointment in Diane's voice that Allison wasn't expecting.

“Something like that.” A flight announcement caught Allison's attention and she checked the time. “Okay, I gotta run, I'm boarding in five.”

Diane sighed. “All right. Love you, honey. Don't be a stranger.”

A few days later

It wasn’t the Eiffel Tower, but it would do, for now.  The cowboy hat was a bit corny, but the lights were a nice touch, and, Allison suspected, made for much better pictures than they would’ve gotten in the daytime. 

“Your smile looks too fake,” Ty said, smirking, as he held the cell phone up to take another picture with the miniature tower behind them. 

“Oh, it’s my smile that’s the problem?” she said, making an even more exaggerated face.

“Yes, clearly everything else here is incredibly real.”

Allison snickered and stole the camera.  “Enough pictures of me. I’ll get one of you in your natural habitat.” She pretended to try a few different angles and found the perfect one, trying to capture him with the red cowboy hat perched atop his head. Kinda. If you looked quickly.

He grabbed the phone and took a look. “Mhm, mhm, I see what you’ve done here.”

“Work of art,” she said, elbowing him as they walked back towards the rental car. “Are you sure your parents aren’t going to be upset we’re getting in so long after dinner?”

“I’m in no hurry to see them,” Ty said, sighing. “So I don’t care.”

“But, I’d kinda like to make a good impression.”

“For what?”

“I—I just do.” She certainly didn’t want to be disliked immediately. Who wanted that?

“You’ve got a huge advantage over the last person I brought home.” 

“Who was . . .?”

“Jake.”

“Oh,” Allison said, pondering that information, in addition to everything she’d ever gathered about Ty. She was more than a little confused. She knew, from their conversations, that she wasn't the first girl he brought home, but all of the hints seemed to say that he hadn’t brought anyone home in a while . . .

Seeing her questioning expression, Ty added some explanation. “My parents believed what they wanted to believe.”

Allison would’ve liked to know what that was, exactly, and what was the truth, but she didn’t feel comfortable asking. Maybe it was none of her business. And besides, she was here, and that meant—a whole lot of nothing. She got into the passenger seat and stared out the window as Ty slid in behind the wheel.

He turned toward her. “You’re suddenly quiet.”

“Must be nerves,” she said, shrugging.

“Your anxiety is endearing,” he said with a laugh. 

“Well, it’s not like you’ve made your parents seem like a barrel of laughs.”

“Okay, fair. But they’re polite.” 

Allison wasn’t sure what to believe. Ty alternately seemed to hate them and to respect their opinion, depending on the conversation. He wanted to escape, and yet was bringing her along to see them and meet them. It seemed like some kind of test. But who was being tested, and why, was a little less clear.

When they pulled up to a modest but well-maintained ranch with a spacious front porch, Allison thought she might actually enjoy this. The yard was large and there was a surprising distance between their house and the neighbor’s—compared to Worcester, anyway.  She looked around, the flat ground below and the sky above stretching down the road, which would’ve allowed her to see for miles—if it hadn’t been after dark. As it was, the stars were out, and it seemed like a peaceful place to spend a few days.  

Ty walked up and knocked on the screen door.  The door to the house was open and light shone in, showing a hallway that reached back to the kitchen.  An older woman came to the door from the side. “Oh! Hello, you two!  You’re just in time.  I made some chili, since I knew you’d be in late. You must be Allie!” she said, turning toward Allison with a smile that Allison tried to read for sincerity (but with no success). “Ty has told us so much about you!”

Allison laughed awkwardly. Still Allie, huh? She guessed that was her own fault. Ty still called her that to her face, always with an ironic smile, or an implied wink (he used the emoji, too, as it turned out), but . . . “Well, I’m so . . . thank you for your hospitality. I’ve never been . . .” she started to say.

“Never been to Paris?” Ty's mother countered, with a musical laugh. “Bienvenue.”

Allison smiled. She knew that much French.

“I’m joking, I suppose I should say ‘howdy,’” she laughed again, as a tall, gruff-looking man approached from the direction of the kitchen. “I’m Marie. And behind me is the biggest crank in the world, Dennis. 

Dennis took the two of them in, and his mouth morphed from a thin, flat line to a warm smile. He put out his hand and took Allison’s in his own. “Welcome. It’s been a long time since Ty's been home. He doesn’t tell us how he’s doing. By the looks of you, he’s doing fine.” He nodded.

“Well, I—” Allison started, looking at Ty nervously.

“What a compliment, Dad,” Ty said, looking at Allison as if to apologize and say “play along.” She flashed a look of concern, but she smiled as well as she could and thanked the two of them.

Soon, they were sitting around the kitchen table, spooning down bowls of chili, laughing good-naturedly. Allison thought it was about ten times better than anything Kevin and Neil had ever managed to slop together.

“So I hear you’re a widow,” Dennis said, without warning, as if he could read her mind, and panic rose to Allison’s face. 

Ty interjected. “Dad, um—”

“No, it’s okay,” Allison interrupted before he could complain. If Ty wanted to pretend he was bringing her home as a date, then they were going to hear the full story. “My husband died in a house fire right after I asked him for a divorce,” she said, staring at Ty, challenging him to contradict her.

Ty's parents were silent for a second, as if trying to process what Allison had said. And, then, just as suddenly, Dennis broke out into a loud guffaw. “A straight shooter, I see,” he said with a smile. “That’s all right, that’s all right.”

Allison felt oddly proud, but was just as annoyed with Ty for throwing her into this situation with only the vaguest warning.  To add insult to injury, he grabbed her hand and brought it onto his knee.  She looked over again, awkwardly, causing Marie to speak up.

“Oh, darling, it’s okay. No need to be uncomfortable on our account. We’re just glad to have y’all here.” 

Confused and unsure what else to say, Allison yawned as convincingly as she could. “I’d better—do you mind if I turn in?”

“Oh, sure, sure, honey.  Let me take you to your room.  Tyler, you’re not tired already, are you? I think your father and I would like to talk to you for a bit.” Her eye twitched, a kind of shining glint in it that Allison almost thought she, too, would wink at her, but it might just have been the resemblance, of the color of the eyes, or the long, thick eyelashes, that made her think of Ty. Instead, his mom took Allison gently by the elbow and led her down the hallway towards what appeared to be Ty's childhood bedroom.  He had a double bed, neatly made up with plaid blue and red comforter, a desk with a questionably functional desktop computer straight out of the mid-2000s, and, adorning the walls were a host of athletics posters—Allison didn’t recognize them all, but they were primarily football and baseball players.  She recognized the Dallas Cowboy uniforms, if nothing else. And on the dresser were some trophies that looked to be Ty’s own from his childhood—baseball, mostly.

“Oh, there’s plenty to take in,” Marie said.  Allison hadn’t realized she was still standing there, watching her look around. “The bathroom is across the hall. Towels are laid out, but there are more in the closet—small door next to the bathroom. Make yourself at home.”

Allison fiddled with her suitcase until Marie excused herself back to the kitchen, and then she explored the room further. There was a bookshelf, filled with what appeared to be a number of western dime novels and Tom Clancy thrillers, some books on space and space exploration, and, what she had missed the first time, some model planes and rockets on the opposite dresser. There was something so . . . typical about all this, and yet it was nothing like any bedroom that she had ever seen in real life.

One thing she didn’t see was a picture of any woman, real or famous. But that could mean anything, and she was starting to wonder whether she had any of Ty's story correct in her head, or if she was doomed to be tricked into marrying him or something, without ever knowing, like she was in some kind of deranged romantic comedy horror mash-up.

Giving her head a slight shake to re-focus her thoughts away from being somehow lured into a trap, she took her things into the bathroom and started the shower, enjoying the feeling of the warm water washing off the dust of traveling, and wondering if it were, in fact, the worst thing in the world to be the pretend girlfriend for a few days.  As long as he didn’t take it too far, what harm would it do?  It might be kinda nice to get lost in a fantasy. Dennis and Marie didn’t really seem like awful people—maybe a little traditional, a little Texan, but . . . nothing all that different than her own parents (and perhaps a large improvement over her mother). There were a lot of similarities between Marie and the friends her mother had made down in South Carolina that Allison saw once a year. She hadn’t been down there since Kevin had died, and she wondered if she simply didn’t need to go, since it was no longer the lesser of two evils (or was it simply an alternative evil, which only seemed lesser before she actually went through with it)?

Toweling off afterward, she heard, out in the hallway, the sounds of goodnights between Ty and his parents (who seemed to be getting along perfectly well), and she wondered where he would be staying, if she had his bedroom.  She put on her PJs and slipped quietly back into the room, ready to relax into bed, when she realized Ty was standing off on the other side of the room, perusing the bookshelf, dressed only in flannel sleep shorts. “What the fuck?” she said, covering her mouth when she realized how loudly it had come out.

“What?” he said, turning toward her. He looked down at himself with a sheepish grin.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Umm, I was getting ready for bed.” He looked at her. “Much like you were.”

“You’re staying here?”

“Well, yes, it’s my room.”

“I’m staying here.”

“And your point?”

Allison sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ve been nice about this.” Her head tilted in consternation. “But why am I really here?”

“A friendly visit.”

“A friendly visit so your parents think you brought a nice girl home.”

“A nice girl whose husband died in a mysterious house fire.” He smirked.

“A girl, I guess, was good enough. Whoever you could convince to come with you.” Allison wondered if she was destined to be perennially late to the party.

“Hey, now! Not at all. That’s not—” Ty frowned. “That’s not why you’re here.”

“Then why do I feel like I’ve been tricked?” If he'd have asked her to pretend for him, she might have. It might have been kinda fun. But he had said his parents wouldn't misunderstand. She did not mention sleeping in the same bed.

“So they—politely, I might say— decided to let us stay in the same room, and I was going to explain to them—but—it’s just easier to not. And, well . . .”

“Well, what?”

“Why not us?” He almost shrugged, offering this up like it wasn't wholly unreasonable.

“You’re gay!” Allison said, too loudly again, then covering her mouth, realizing perhaps she should be a little more quiet. Ty’s furrowed brows made her add, quietly this time—“aren’t you?”

“Well, that’s not exactly—” Ty frowned again. “Hey, come here,” he said, sitting on the bed and patting the spot beside him.

“Can you put a shirt on?” Allison said, looking at him, her head tilted sideways.

“Distracting?” he asked with a smirk.

“Oh, fine, whatever,” Allison said, removing her oversized t-shirt to reveal only a thin tank top. “If you’re suddenly so straight, we’ll just even things out.”

The look of surprise on his face—and appreciation—reminded her suddenly of a look that Patty had once given her, early on, when she came downstairs in the middle of the night, dressed not too differently, but with much shorter shorts. She felt a similar shiver, despite the warm night, and she swallowed nervously. Maybe she should’ve thought about this . . . she slowly sat down beside him, but stayed a foot or so away, just to be careful.

“I didn’t realize that you didn’t—” Ty started, looking at Allison. “I’m not . . . I’ve been with men, yes. And women. I thought someone must have filled you in by now. I just—I just thought you understood that I found you attractive. Even if we haven’t . . .” Ty shrugged again, and there was a vulnerability to the way he said it that softened Allison a little. Even as she was still angry at him for the—what seemed to be mostly deliberate—misunderstanding.

“But why?” Honestly, she didn’t get it.

“What do you mean, why?”

“You’re much younger than me. I’m—I was married, I’m about to be middle-aged,” Allison started.

“Oh, come on.”

“Well I’m in my late thirties. What is forty but—”

“I’m not all that much younger than you.”

“What, like twenty-eight?”

“Thirty-two.”

“Close enough.”

“And you’re, what?”

“Thirty-seven.”

“So, what’s five years?”

“Well, for one, I can’t have kids or anything. I don’t think . . .”

“So?”

“Isn’t that what your parents would want—?”

“Okay, okay, let’s back up. Yeah, okay, I kinda brought you here under false pretenses, but I didn’t bring you because my parents would think you were perfect.”

“Oh, great, thank you. That makes me feel better.”

“Or because you’re a woman.”

“Well, I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Or to be some kind of breeder.” Allison's eyes widened. “They didn’t like Jake, sure. But I don’t think it was necessarily because of—we stayed in separate rooms when we were here. I think they could tell I had such a thing for him and he just—took advantage of it.”

“Then why’d he say you were a flirt?” Allison was more than a little confused. Which seemed to be her permanent state, these days.

“Because he’s an asshole.” Ty raised an eyebrow. “And he wanted to fuck me and I never would," he added, candidly.

“Even though you wanted to?” Allison didn't know why this was so important. The big question she had was now answered, wasn't it? Why did she need to know the rest?

“It was a long time ago. Or it seems like a long time ago. I wasn’t fully aware of—I didn’t know for sure what I was feeling. At one point, it—well, some things happened—my parents caught us—I think that if they hadn’t, I probably would’ve gone for it. But then—there they were. And his reaction, well, it was obvious that he had no interest in smoothing things over. He just up and left.”

“And you stayed friends?”

“I wasn't always so clear-eyed about how he handled it. It took some time to get over. And he was always . . . around. I couldn’t help but keep hoping. It took entirely too long to see that it was never gonna happen. I think I thought—well I thought for a while it was just about him. It was just one guy, and otherwise . . .”

“But now he’s with Ian.” Allison had met Jake’s boyfriend later at the party. For her part, she preferred Ty.

“Yeah, when they got together, I think it finally dawned on me. But that was a long time ago. There were others since then. I’m comfortable with where I am, now, who I am. But I haven’t brought anyone else home with me since then.”

“Your parents seem—well, nice, I guess?”

“I told you, they’re polite.”

“So what did they say about me behind my back?” 

Ty was quiet, before letting out a chuckle, as if to say don’t be paranoid. But it didn’t necessarily mean they hadn’t said something.

“Why me? Why bring me here?”

Ty shrugged. “I don’t know. You seem—like someone who would get it?" When Allison didn't respond, he kept going. "You’re really pretty, you know, but you—you don’t seem to know it. And it's not fake. You’re very much yourself. You make me laugh. And you—I still can’t get over it—you and Molly are friends.”

“Well, that’s not because of me. I’m not a great pers—” Allison could feel her cheeks going red, she felt like the room was getting hot. Was it getting hot? Where was the A/C?

“And you’re incredibly self-deprecating, which is comforting.”

“To someone as arrogant as you are,” she returned, wondering immediately where the comeback sprang from. 

“And not afraid to give me some shit.” 

Allison smiled to herself. Those last few months with Kevin, she had really learned how to stand up for herself in a way that perhaps she hadn’t lost. “I owe that to—” she wanted to say she owed it to Patty. She did. But she didn’t want to bring Patty up. She wanted to keep Patty locked away and special. It felt wrong, somehow, to casually bring her up in this situation.

“Who do you owe it to?”

“A friend.”

“Anyone I know?”

“No.”

“Anyone I should know?”

“No.”

“Why not, if they were so instrumental?”

“It’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Oh, a her? That’s reassuring.”

Allison frowned. Why should he of all people be reassured by that?

And then suddenly, Ty's face transformed. “Your neighbor! What happened to her?”

Panic arose in Allison’s chest again. How did he guess? And how did he know about Patty?

“I told you, I followed your story. I knew about Sam. They interviewed your neighbor, too, and—” He got silent.

“What?”

“I’ve—I’ve never forgotten that interview.”

“What? Why?” Allison was just grasping here, she didn’t know what was going on.

“Her roommate—well I just assumed it was her girlfriend—” Allison nodded, “she was a cop, right?”

“Tammy,” Allison said, unable to remove all traces of venom from her voice.

Ty looked at her, like there was a dawning in his mind, puzzle pieces that had never been put together before. “Seriously, what happened to your neighbor?”

“Nothing happened to her. I moved. Into the pad we’re in now, if you recall. Otherwise, I stay with Molly.” Allison wanted to act like everything was fine. She tried to keep her voice steady, but it wasn’t working, somehow. She could hear a tremor coming out. A crack that was growing. 

“Remember when I asked you what you were running away from?”

Allison looked away.

“Was it her?”

Allison’s sharp intake of breath was impossible to hide, but there was one thing she thought might work. She turned quickly and grabbed Ty's face with both hands, kissing him. She could feel him flinch at first, but he quickly returned it. It felt good, she hadn’t done this—well, she hadn’t kissed anyone, even, since before she’d left town, and the surge of adrenaline through her body propelled her further. She thought about how he looked when she had entered the room, about his chiseled figure, the spot where his neck met his collarbone. It was working. She could lose herself to this. She could feel his large hand resting on her waist, light pressure as he moved it towards the hem of her tank top and lingered there. Oh, just go ahead, she thought, debating whether she should, in fact, help him along. Instead, she let out a sigh of pleasure, and his hand continued accordingly. This will work, she thought. Work for what? It didn’t matter. She was practically forgetting everything else already.

—

In the middle of the night, Allison awoke with a start. Groggy, she could feel the warmth beside her and hear the soft breathing sounds next to her. Relaxing, she rolled towards the sound and curled herself up against . . . but no, something wasn't right. She expected soft and welcoming, but she faced with a hard, unyielding back. She jumped backwards, jolting her memory and waking up Ty.  

“What? What?” he said, confused and just waking up himself.

Allison's breath came rapidly. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. What did I do, what did I do?  

“Hey, hey, it's just me,” he said, laying his hand on her shoulder.

“But you're not—” Allison tried to say, and tried to say it again.  And then, out came a garbled sound that was half sob and half dry heave.

“Oh my god, what's wrong?” Ty asked, whispering still, but loudly. “What can I get you?”

Allison's heaving breaths were hard to overcome, and she wasn't sure what to do. But each faint brush from Ty made her want to recoil more.  She jumped out of bed and began pacing.  

“Seriously, Allie,” he said. “What can I do?”

“Don't call me that,” she spit at him, surprised at her own vehemence. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” she added, coming to her senses. “I don't know what…” Did she have a bad dream? She didn't know what was wrong. What kind of….

There was a faint glow from the light of the back porch, and Allison could see the horrified look on Ty’s face. She wasn't sure what to do about it. “I—um—um—sometimes I have—um, nightmares,” she said.  It was true. Sometimes she did have nightmares.

“Honey, come here,” he said.

“Don't call me that!” she repeated, before apologizing again and sitting back down gingerly on the edge of the bed.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “Did I do something—?” His voice was soft but foreign to her. What was she doing here? What was she thinking?

“I—I'm sorry. Let me go splash some water—” she said, running across the hall to escape into the bathroom, where she brought the warm water up to her face, hoping it might return her to normalcy. She looked at her face in the mirror and flashed back to the day that Kevin had promised to meet with the bank about a down payment on a new house. Before everything had gone completely to shit. How did she used to do that? How did she do that so often, and now, apparently, one actually pretty good night threw her into an unexplainable panic?

Never had she been so sure that the power of denial was strong. And that power in her was waning. 

—

Allison woke up again, late, and was alone. She could smell something delicious being cooked from down the hall. She got dressed and did her best to sneak into the bathroom so that Ty wouldn't be able to intercept her before they were in front of his parents and she'd be safe from further inquiry. Until they were alone again, anyway.

Looking in all directions before heading to the kitchen again, she was greeted by big smiles and good mornings.

“Nothing like good sleep on a warm Texas night,” Ty’s dad said, giving Ty a slap on the back for good measure.

Allison winced. She hoped that wasn't some kind of innuendo.

But, based on the lack of knowing smiles, it seemed, for now, to be innocent. Ty smiled at her, some hesitation in his eyes. His mother turned around from the stove, where eggs were frying and asked if over-easy was okay.

“Oh, yes. Yes, thank you.” She was delighted to have anything other than scrambled, which was all Kevin would eat, and all she had dared to make since. When she ate with Patty at the diner, it was different . . . but it had been months since she had done that. It was fading into the fifteen years before.

“And do you eat bacon?” Marie asked. Allison could see it in a large pile, and she could smell it. It seemed thicker and somehow more luxurious than any bacon she'd ever seen.

Allison just nodded, and soon her plate was piled with eggs and bacon and Texas toast, and she wondered if she'd be able to eat it all. Ty, too, had a full plate, and she thought about asking him later if there was a good place to run. He must run, or do something, or he would never keep that shape.

“So you slept well. Glad to hear it. What do y'all have planned for today?” Marie asked, sitting down herself after bringing over a plate of fruit as the last dish.

Ty looked over. “I dunno. Maybe we could go out on the trail. You two want to come?”

“Oh, well, no, no, you two go ahead. Bob and Susie are coming over for dinner, I want to be able to tidy up.”

Allison looked around and wondered what it was she could possibly be planning to tidy, but Ty cleared his throat and she realized it was just an excuse to leave them to themselves.

“I bet the two of you don't get to spend much time together,” Marie volunteered for clarity, and Allison could admit that was true, no matter how misleading the idea.

“Not as much as I'd like,” Ty said, smiling warmly at her, and a varied discussion of their schedules followed, which Allison was happy enough to detail. Being so new, she had relatively little control over her schedule (not that Ty had a lot), and the ability to just state the facts made the whole thing easier.

—

Later, as the two of them drove to the trail, Allison, eager to avoid talking about herself and any of her choices, past or future, asked Ty, “How'd you meet Jake? I just assumed you met at work, but if you've known him for a while . . . did you go for the job because of him?”

He looked over, a bit of surprise on his face, and nodded. “He used to work at the Seas.”

“Really? I don't remember seeing him.” She thought she would've noticed him.

“He had a different style then, much more Worcester. Much less playboy.” Ty had a wry smile.

“A transformation you seem to have mimicked.”

Ty looked sheepish. “Hey, you know, I—”

Allison knew her own appearance had changed over time. She'd adopted the style of others—it wasn't necessarily a bad thing, was it?

Ty pulled into a dusty gravel lot where the trail began and put the car in park, turning fully to Allison. “Sometimes you go through a lot of bullshit for people you love and you don't even realize you're doing it,” he said.

“Love?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.” 

“But not anymore?”

“I don't know. I don't expect anything anymore. Does it go away, though?”

“Is that a question?”

“Maybe. You seem like you might know exactly what I'm talking about.”

“What? No—what do you mean?” He was always pressing, always probing. She missed Molly's quiet thoughtfulness. Or—

“You were willing to sleep with me to avoid it.” The look in his eyes was suggestive, the memory of the night before suddenly filling her with the desire for more, and she had the urge to run her teeth down his neck—  But then, as she was leaning forward, she stopped herself. What was she doing? It was like a switch was flipped any time that he— 

“I gotta—hold on, I gotta make a call.” She scrambled put of the car, took out her phone, walking to the other end of the lot.

“Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up,” she said as the phone dialed.

“Hey, Sweets! You know I'm at the packie right now, is something wrong?”

Allison realized something was wrong with her, but she wasn't entirely sure what. “Not exactly, it's just . . .”

“Are you with Tyler? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, we're about to go for a hike, everything is fine.”

“Oh, good, good.”

“Yeah, yeah, everything's fine.”

“Okay, well, there are a few customers and you know I can't just talk on the phone all afternoon.”

“Of course, I'm so—”

“But, hey, you know, I wanted to tell you that last week I ran into Patty and Renée at Maloney's.”

“Oh.” Allison bit her lip. Something was making her nauseous, her stomach churning. Too much bacon?

“Yeah, they gave off a very friends-only vibe this time. Did something happen?” 

Allison let out a breath. “What do you—-”

“Yeah, I'm not sure, but I'd guess that's over.”

“But they were together?” Allison needed to know the details.

“Sure, you two hung out all the time, I don’t know what's so odd about that . . . ”

“Hey, yeah, yeah, I guess.”

“Was there something you wanted to talk about, hun?”

“I—”

“You know, maybe you should give Patty a call. She seemed interested in what was going on with you—” Diane chuckled. “Did a fine job of pretending to know what was going on, but I got the impression she knew less than I did.”

“Oh, um, yeah, um, maybe.”

A crash could be heard in the background, followed by Diane's quiet. “Well shit.”

“Ah, help is needed in the reds," Diane said, "Call again later, okay?”

“Okay, bye D.”

If Allison thought that would somehow help her confusion, it did nothing. She bent over, putting her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. Her breath that shouldn't need to be caught. She felt a hand on her back.

“You okay?”

Allison stood up. “No,” she said, simply.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No,” she said, again.

“You wanna start on the trail?” he asked, nodding toward the entrance.

Allison nodded. They walked, silently, for the length of the trail loop.

—

Dinner was miserable.  All Allison could think of was “call Patty.” Marie and Dennis asked her questions, as did their friends, who were perfectly nice, and she wasn't even sure she knew how she was answering, and she could feel the positive vibes from them slowly dissipating as her own mind was drifting further and further from the conversation at hand. 

After dinner, she volunteered to help with the dishes, when Ty spoke up.

“Can I steal Allie for a minute, actually?” He said, giving her a significant look.

“Oh, not a problem,” Marie said, suggestively, “why don't you go out on the porch.”

“Mhm,” Ty said quickly, leading Allison out the front door.

“I'm sorry,” she said, as she sat down on the porch swing. “I don't know where my head is.”

“Yeah, you told my parents friends that you were once on the run from the cops.”

“That was a joke,” Allison said. No one had laughed.

“Was it?”

“Yes!” Allison said, lying.

“Whatever, I know I brought you here under false pretenses, but if you stay, can you try to be a little . . .”

“I need to call home,” Allison said.

“Home?”

“Yeah,” she said, pulling out her cell phone. “Damn it.” She had no signal whatsoever. “Shit.”

“What?”

“No bars.”

“Here. Use my phone,” he handed it over. “Call your mom, whatever, let me know if you want to stay. You're welcome as long as you want. But I don't want to keep you here against your will.”

Allison took the phone and nodded slowly. She put the number in and stared at it for a while. And then she hit send.

She expected to get the voicemail, the What?!, and she expected to have to leave a message, one that she hadn't planned in the slightest, especially calling from another phone, but instead she heard Patty softly answer, which immediately calmed her in a way she wouldn't have expected.

“Patty?” she said, hoping that Patty's voice didn't change when she realized who it was.

“Yeah?” Patty said, her tone changing, but unreadable.

“It's Allison,” she confirmed.

“Where the hell are you calling from?” Patty didn't sound angry. But she sounded confused. And perhaps reluctant.

“Oh, well, it's not my phone.” Allison admitted.

“I guess that's a relief.” Allison realized that probably Patty didn't have any idea what she had been up to. Unless someone told her? Maybe Diane?

“Oh, um, yeah, so. . . Hey.” Allison really wanted to hear Patty—Patty the way she would sometimes talk to Allison when they were alone. Allison wasn't sure she deserved it anymore, though, she wasn't sure she earned it, in her long absence.

“Hey.” There was a bite to Patty's voice and Allison swallowed nervously.

“I um, how are you?” she ventured, softly.

“What's this about?” Patty said, her words with spikes that made Allison shiver.

“I just um, I wanted to talk to you.” That was it, right? She always wanted to talk to Patty.

“Okay,” Patty said, voice dripping with doubt.

“Is this an okay time?” Allison tried to calculate—it shouldn't be too late. Patty was a night owl. But maybe Patty was out somewhere. Maybe she was on a date. 

“Never better,” Patty said, and Allison wasn't sure if it was sarcasm or not.

“Oh. Oh. Good. Because . . . because . . . I wanted to tell you something.” It came out before Allison could think about it. Did she want to tell Patty something? What?

Patty made a noise that Allison couldn't interpret, but she knew she had to keep going. With the truth. As she knew it. She had panicked yesterday, when Ty had been right. Allison was running. “So I'm here with this guy, and—and I realized something. You see, he and I were friends. I mean, I thought we were, and then, well, it turns out that we weren't, you see.” Allison kept going, but she didn't know where she was going. She just knew the confusion had been part of it. It was all part of it.

Patty's response was dry. “Do I?”

Allison needed to get this out. “Yeah, I mean, I didn't get it. I didn't see it. But—”

“What, Allison?” Patty's patience was already wearing thin, and that was never good.

“I think I haven't been paying attention,” Allison said, suddenly. Because wasn't that the truth? She was meandering through life on vibes and she never stopped to think about anything. Not really. Not where it counted.

“Hmmph,” was all Patty said in response.

“I don't think I've paid attention in a long time. Maybe I never did.” It was important for Patty to realize. Allison hadn't seen it before. She hadn't seen it at all. She knew how important Patty was but she didn't realize what that meant to her. 

A silence followed and Allison felt the need to fill the space with words, to let Patty know she was still there. To make sure Patty was still there.

“But I get it now. There were things I wasn't seeing. Maybe I wasn't ready. But I see them now.” She wasn't sure she was making sense, but she had to get Patty to see what she meant.

“Allison, see what?”

“I'm trying to say it. It's hard. It's hard when I can't see your face.” It was hard when Patty wasn't there, when they weren't so close they were touching. She craved that. She missed that.

“Well I'm looking at you like you're crazy.” The response was so Patty that Allison nearly wept. 

“That's…reassuring, actually.”

“But Patty, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I realized today I wasn't being . . . fair. To you.” Because that was the problem, right? Patty didn't know. Couldn't have known. Allison herself didn't even know, consciously. Or maybe she did. Maybe she just wanted Patty to say something first. But Patty never did.

Patty let out some kind of exhale, and Allison held her breath, waiting for the response.  But all Patty said was, “Stop being cryptic.”

Allison pressed forward, hoping she could explain before Patty just gave up on her. “I was—I was ignoring things. Big things.”

“Like what?” Something was wrong. Patty's tone was upset. There was every possibility that she didn't want to hear this. That was why she had moved on.

“Umm … feelings?” It was all Allison could say. It would be so much easier in the dark, lying in Patty's arms. Wouldn't it?

“Was that a question?”

“No, well, yes, but, not a question for you.” Allison could feel the panic taking over, felt her voice changing. “I mean, maybe for you, too.” Maybe if Patty was alone again. Maybe Allison could convince her . . .

“Allison, honey, I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Either say it, or—”

“I'm trying!” Wasn't she saying it?

“Well it's not really coming across.”

Allison swallowed. She thought about Ty, about being tricked, about not knowing what he wanted. Was that it? Was that the problem? Did Patty think she had been—that Allison had been using her? “I'm sorry—I'm sorry for what I did to you. What you had to—having to deal with me all the time. All over you, but without—I'm sorry! I didn't know what I was doing. I wasn't paying attention.”

“You weren’t doing anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, no, I think I was. I was—I didn’t know I was, but now I’m realizing—” Allison didn't know how to say it. She didn't have words for it. Were there words for it?

“Realizing what?”

“I—”

Patty's voice changed again, and it was real anger this time. Sharp and cold. “Fine, Allison. Just say it. You should’ve realized it a long time ago. Just say it.” 

Here was her opening. Allison wanted to say it. She thought she was ready to say it. But Patty didn't seem to want to hear it.

“Hey—” There was a voice in the background. “Is that—” the voice said, and Allison knew immediately. She didn't have a chance. She never had a chance.

“Oh my god, is Renée there?” Allison said, her breath coming fast, panic fully setting in.

“Does it matter?” Patty asked, shortly. Of course it matters, Allison thought. Why wouldn’t it matter?

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought—” Allison was thrown into confusion. No. No.

“Allison, say what you were gonna say. Let’s just get it out there.” 

“No. No. I—nevermind, I—” She couldn't do it now. Not now. She had already said too much.

“Allison, come on.” The impatience in Patty’s voice was hard to take. Did she want to hear Allison just to dismiss her?

“I gotta go. I gotta go.” Allison hung up. She nearly ran into the house, straight to Ty's room. He was sitting back on the bed, against the headboard, a book in his hand, and he looked up when he saw her. She went over, and he held out his arms. She crumpled inside them.

Chapter Text

Some weeks later

“So then what happened?” Molly asked, sipping her beer slowly. 

“I decided to stick it out,” Allison said with a shrug. “But that didn’t happen again. I—that was—impulsive.”

“This is all so—I don’t really . . .”  Molly hesitated. “Well, actually, I always thought he liked you, but I didn’t want to say anything.” Molly smiled her self-deprecating smile. 

“I’m still not sure exactly how he feels about me. But we don’t see each other all that much, and, I’ve—I’ve been—reluctant to make anything happen there.”

“Why?”

“I’m clearly not ready to move on.” Allison thought maybe that was the understatement of the year.

“You were married for ten years, and he died, and I mean, it takes—”

Allison gave Molly a confused look, but then she just agreed. Maybe Molly didn’t really need to know how complicated it was. Maybe it was better if no one ever knew. It wasn’t likely that she would ever really understand it herself. And part of the problem was, no doubt, related to suddenly having a dead husband. She took a long gulp of her drink. She still couldn’t handle rail whiskey but she had moved off of vodka to rum.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this after it happened.” Molly looked genuinely put out.

“I didn’t see you!” It was true, but it was also a cop-out. Allison didn’t talk to anybody until well into May.

“Right.”

“And I was embarrassed.”

“But why?”

“Because . . . I dunno, I felt stupid the whole time. Like I should’ve seen everything. And I was such a mess, you should’ve seen—” Allison remembers the day afterward. She left Texas the next morning, she missed Ty’s mom’s birthday party. But there was nowhere to go. She came back to Boston, and she knew Diane would want to see her, but she couldn’t bring herself to go to Worcester. So she sat in the room she shared with Molly and did nothing until it was time to go back to work.

Molly smiled sadly. “Oh, I’m sure you were fine. Ty still talks about you glowingly.”

“Oh, I bet.” Allison was pretty sure that was a lie. Their conversations, mostly via text, had been stilted. She didn’t know what to say and he was most likely pissed. 

“No, really, I saw him the other day. He asked how you were. Said he was thinking we should all get together soon. Actually, that reminds me. The international flight division is hiring. Ty was saying he thought we should apply, too. Said we might actually get out of the northeast—outside the US—beyond Canada. We could really go places.” Molly got out her phone, and pulled up a document—”see, there’s an application,” she handed the phone to Allison.

As Allison scrolled through, there was bolded language about a background check waiting period. Shit. They had made her submit something for her current spot, but it seemed like nothing ever came of it. This looked more serious.

“I—I don’t know if I’m right for this,” she said, handing the phone back to Molly.

“I’m sending it to you, anyway. Just think—you could see the real Paris.” 

Allison chuckled. “I’ve had enough of Paris, thank you.”  She looked up and saw Diane walking in with Billy, and waved them over. She greeted Diane with a hug and made introductions. She tried to act like she just remembered Billy vaguely, but the way Diane looked at her, Allison suspected Diane now knew even more than she had before. It must be serious. 

“So this is Molly,” Billy said, smiling oddly as he looked at her, then looked at Allison. “Uncanny.” 

“What?” Molly asked without guile. The two of them were both dressed alike, by chance, with striped shirts and khakis. They both had their hair pulled back tightly, the way they usually wore it for flights. They had driven together from Boston that afternoon after arriving within an hour of one another.

“Oh, um, nothin’,” Billy said, apologizing. “Shall we sit?” He reached into his pocket for something and handed it to Molly. “My card, should you ever need my services.”

“But why would I—?” Molly started, as she read the card. “Um, thanks?” Molly looked at Allison, who looked away.

Allison watched Diane and Billy as they all sat and talked, and wondered why she had, at first, thought it an odd match. They seemed to agree on almost everything, and their shared acquaintance appeared to encompass all of Worcester. Something about the intersection of those who buy liquor and those who get snooped on embodied an entire town. She started to get nostalgic. She had barely been back here, and she would leave again soon. Her and Molly were only in town until tomorrow, and, even then, only to see Diane and for Molly to stop in to see her mother. Allison wasn’t sure how she was going to spend the evening. Maybe she would stop in at Bev's . . . if she could be sure she wouldn’t run into anyone else.

“So how’s your friend?” Billy asked. “The one who was always with you? I thought she was your bodyguard or something." He smiled—a smirk. "Saw her in here once . . . with a woman who looked a lot like you, actually. Well, from far away.”

“Oh?” Allison’s eyes went wide.

“A few months ago.” Billy added, after an elbow nudge from Diane.

“Oh, yeah, well, yeah—Patty.  Haven’t seen her in a bit. I’ve been flying.”

“Oh, that’s right. A flight attendant. Surprised they let you do that, given—” Billy looked at Molly and quieted. “Given your age,” he finished, awkwardly.

Molly frowned.

“Good save,” Diane said, rolling her eyes at him.

“Things are changing,” Allison said, plastering a smile on her face. “But it’s—it’s fun. I like to travel.”

“So I’ve heard,” Billy added, laughing. “Runs in the family, I guess.”

“Well, I don’t know what you mean—”

“Your mom’s in South Carolina, right? She had to get there somehow. And I’ve heard that’s a lovely place to go on a getaway—” Billy smirked, and Diane elbowed him again.

Allison looked at Diane. “The two of you, I don’t know—you just seem so—”

Diane raised an eyebrow. “Otherwise desperate?”

Billy laughed. “Like the last two pathetic souls left in this crumbling town?”

For whatever reason, the shared response did a lot to calm Allison’s fears about her aunt getting into another relationship just like the one she had before. It was reassuring to know that they actually laughed together. 

“So how’d you two meet?” Molly asked, wanting to get a word in, but not realizing, perhaps, the can of worms she had opened.

“We met in high school, actually,” Billy said, turning to Molly. I moved there when I was in 10th grade and there she was. Smoking hot in those days. As she is now.” He smiled appreciatively. 

“Oh, please,” Diane said, but she smiled anyway. She looks younger than she has in years, Allison thought to herself.

“I remember she used to pass by me in the hallway on the way to history,” he added, and Diane smiled fondly. 

“Well, that’s sweet.” Molly turned to Allison, “Isn’t that sweet?”

“Of course,” Allison said, not entirely convinced any of it was true. He specialized in cover stories, after all. 

“So how’d you reconnect?” Molly asked. 

“Well, you know,” Diane started, “After Chuck died, well—”

“We ran into each other, you might say,” Billy added.

“You might say at the reunion,” Diane said, clearing her throat.

“I have my ways,” Billy said dubiously.

Molly looked confused for a second, and then realization dawned on her. “Oh, did you—you found her?”

“Well, I knew where she was,” Billy admitted. “We had run into each other a little before that. But we did both end up at the reunion." He paused. "Eventually.”

Diane nodded. “Yeah, we did cross paths before that. Recently.” She cleared her throat again. “Chuck did some damage to his car at one point.”

“Like an accident?” Molly asked.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that,” Billy said, scowling. “Some kind of accident.”

Diane scoffed. “Chuck was always dozing off,” she said, “It was the sleep apnea. A real danger behind the wheel.”

Billy nodded. “And in front of it.”

Diane, looking like she wanted to change the subject, grabbed Allison’s hand. “You know, Sweets, I wanted to tell you something.”

“Oh? Allison suddenly looked down, and caught a flash of something on Diane’s hand that she hadn’t noticed before. Was that . . . ?

Diane held her hand up. “Bill and I are—we’re gettin’ married.”

Allison’s eyes went wide, as did Molly’s.

“You are?” Allison asked, as Molly congratulated them.

Diane smiled. “Sometimes you just know,” she looked at Billy, who smiled back.

“Sometimes luck goes your way,” he added. “And sometimes you get a bat through the windshield.”

“And sometimes both,” Allison muttered.

Molly looked at her like she was crazy.

“Inside joke,” she said, addressing Molly's look, and Billy nodded his acknowledgement.

“I didn’t realize you knew each other so well,” Molly said, looking from Billy to Allison and back. “Small town, I guess?” Allison squinted a bit and nodded slightly.

Diane took Allison's hand again. “I never really got a wedding—Chuck didn't want to spend any money, and your mother cleaned out your grandparents with hers  . . . so back then we eloped and Father O'Donnell did a little mass with our families when we got back . . . " Diane shook her head at the memory. “Bill and I, we were thinking we could do it right.” She looked over at Billy. “This time.”

Billy nodded. Allison wondered if he had ever been married. She hadn't asked. Somehow she assumed not. With all he had likely seen, perhaps it was no wonder. This was rather optimistic of him.

“Can I ask you a favor?” Diane said, looking at Allison intently.

Allison wasn't sure what to think about it all, but she would do a lot to make Diane happy.  

“Would you be my maid of honor?” Diane asked, sincerely.

Allison was a bit taken aback. “What about my mom?”

Diane scoffed. "Donna—let's just say she already told me what she thought about the whole thing. It being only six months, all that.”

“She's not even gonna come?” Allison shouldn’t have been surprised. And a part of her hoped the answer was of course not.

“Oh, I wouldn't be surprised if she shows up just to spite me. But I'm not going to make it easier for her to ruin my day.”

With that comment, Billy looked decidedly uncomfortable, and Molly looked ready to excuse herself. But then Diane laughed it off as a joke (Allison wasn't so certain) and everyone else recovered enough to have a normal conversation for the rest of the meal. Allison found out they wanted to have the wedding at the end of the summer. There was a lot to get done. Diane acknowledged that Allison wouldn't be able to help much with her schedule.

“But you can reserve a week for me, right?” Diane asked, her eyes hopeful. “We’ll probably have a lot to do right beforehand.”

Allison nodded. “I wouldn't miss it.” She thought about it. “Even if they have to fire me.”

Diane smiled. “I don't want it to come to that.”

Allison shrugged. She realized it didn't matter much to her. The novelty had worn off. Now it was a job, like any other. Traveling was . . . repetitive.

When they parted ways, Molly and Allison made their way back to Molly's car. They would head back to their pad, and be off again in the morning.

“That was . . . a little awkward,” Molly said, with some hesitation, as they got on the road.

Allison thought about how much Billy knew, and silently agreed.

“Your mother is her sister?” Molly asked.

“Yeah.”

“Waaaaiiiit. Did Diane used to date Neil?” It was like Molly had a revelation.

“Kinda. Date is maybe a strong term. But I dunno what to call it. They had a thing.”

“I remember.”

“What.”

“Kevin was a real ass about it.”

“Sounds right.” Allison quirked a brow. She wondered when he found out.

“That was right before . . . ” Molly trailed off and shook her head.

“Ah. I don't think they've . . . been a thing for a while.”

Molly had a thoughtful expression. “How is Neil?”

Allison had no idea. Her only connection was Patty, and that was no connection, anymore. She shrugged.

“He was nice.”

Allison laughed, perhaps too derisively.

“What?” Molly looked at her in astonishment.

“Well, he hated me, so it's no wonder he was nice to you.”

Molly bent her head, sheepish.

Allison realized, though, that it didn't matter. “I—all long past, anyway. I wonder if that's why Neil and Kevin were fighting at the end.” It didn’t matter but it wasn’t long past. Not really. Not to her. She had stood up to Neil—or tried to—for Patty’s sake. But it was hard to understand her mindset then. She had somehow avoided seeing him since, and not seeing him made his figure, in a way, loom larger in her memory. As dangerous, as a threat. And maybe he wasn’t. Not anymore. But nor did she have any desire to see him again.

“Oh, yes, that's definitely why,” Molly said, a knowing look on her face.

“Ah.” It gave Allison something to think about. Maybe she should see what was up with Neil. Patty had gotten so that she rarely spoke about him. Allison wondered if they ever made up, wondered why they had a falling out in the first place. Allison wondered why she never asked Patty. What had they talked about, all that time?

As she was lost in thought, Molly spoke up. “Do you think you'll bring Ty to the wedding?”

Allison looked at Molly sharply. She hadn't thought about needing a date. She supposed Ty made the most sense, if she brought anyone at all. But it might be opening a whole can of worms. (Even if he might deserve it.) “I don't know. Hadn't thought about it.”

“Seems like it might be a good opportunity to spend some time with him, in your home court.”

Allison shrugged. “I'm not sure my hometown has any advantage for me. And besides, I'm not trying to win.”

“Then what are you trying to do?”

“I thought I was trying to make a friend. I thought I had.”

“A friend can make a good wedding date, too.”

Allison smiled over at Molly. “You know, you're right.” She chuckled. “In which case, I think I have a better idea.”

—

That evening, Allison walked into Bev’s and Sam, who had been talking to a customer at the other end of the bar, did a double take as he turned and she sat down. “Long time no see!” he said, with a genuine smile. “Or hear, for that matter!”

Allison smiled sheepishly. She knew she hadn’t been in touch. It hadn’t been that long, but it had been a a few months. She had told him, eventually, what she was up to, but the conversation petered out and she hadn’t provided much in the way of updates. She was too afraid of news from him. And too afraid to admit what kind of news she was afraid of. “I’m sorry about that. I’ve been—busy.”

Sam nodded. “So it seems. I guess it’s my fault, too, I haven’t tried very hard.”

Allison appreciated it, but she knew it was her. She didn’t want to talk to him.

“So what have you been up to? Go anywhere fun? How’s it going?”

Allison shrugged. “I’ve been around. Mostly the northeast. But I’ve been to Florida, to Texas—” she almost didn’t mention it, but she didn’t have to explain why.

“Hold on—” Sam looked at her askance, “—I thought you were terrified of airplanes. I forgot about that—how did you even manage—?”

Allison shrugged. “Bein’ dead once made it all a little easier, I think.”

Sam frowned. “Allie—”

Allison rolled her eyes. “I dunno, it just didn’t bother me anymore. I just wanted to—do something.”

Sam looked around. “Yeah, I mean, I guess this place . . .”

“That’s not what I mean. I think—it was just time I did something new. I had been—coasting.”

“I always thought of it as a well-deserved break.” Sam smiled sadly.

“Well, not everyone thought of it that way.” Allison looked down.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, his hands on the counter between them, investing in the conversation, which had turned serious.

“I—it was time for me to get out there and do something.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Some people thought I was coasting, I guess. Some people—”

“All-i-son,” Sam said, slowly. “Who are ‘some people?’”

Allison shrugged. There was no point in getting into it.

“If you’re talking about Patty, I think—”

“I’m not, I’m not talking about only Patty.” She was thinking of Renée, too, for that matter. They both said it. Her mom would’ve said it, too, if she had had the chance. Probably. Although she would’ve said it even worse.

“Because Patty—”

Allison cut him off again. “It doesn’t matter what Patty thought, she—it was time.”

“Time for what?” Sam gave her a look that said talk to me, but she couldn’t risk things getting back to Patty.

“Time to move on.” Allison thought that was the gist of it, after all.

“Move on from what?” Sam asked.

“What do you think?” Suddenly, Allison realized she shouldn’t be there. This was too dangerous. Sam and Patty were friends—probably spoke all the time. Nothing good could come from this. “I gotta go,” she said, pushing away the water that Sam had brought her. 

“Already?” Sam called to her as she walked away.

“Got an early morning tomorrow,” she shouted to him over her shoulder. She didn’t turn around.

—

That night, she sat in the spare bedroom of Molly’s Worcester apartment, her head back against a pillow, propped against the wall, a bottle of wine in her hand. The bed frame was simple, there was no headboard, and minimal other furniture—just a chest of drawers and a mirror, not even a chair in the corner. Molly was staying with her mom and grandma for the night. Took a load off of her mom, who was getting older herself, and who took care of her grandmother, most of the time.  Molly had invited Allison along, but she wanted to sit and think—or sit and stew. Either one.

Allison pulled up the application for the international division. Maybe the job had lost some of its glamor, but Allison didn’t have a convincing alternative to going for this. There wasn’t anything here for her, after all. Diane didn’t need her. Her own mother didn’t want her. Sam and Bev’s were doing fine, and, well, everyone else was just wonderful, as far as she could tell. The background check might be a little tough, but she could get through it. No one could prove any crimes in the name of Allison Devine, after all. Right? 

She took a sip from the bottle, rooted in her bag for a pen, and began to fill out the form. What the hell, why not? If she was going to die alone, she might as well see a bit more of the world.

A few months later - About a week before the wedding

Allison looked at her phone. Five missed calls from Sam. Another missed call from a local Worcester number. What was this?

She was supposed to meet Diane, but she had to pick up Molly on the way. Molly had agreed (after some convincing) to be Allison’s plus one for the wedding (and the whole week before, because Diane could use an extra hand, after all, and why not get a week at a decent resort hotel?). She had a rental car for the week.  But out of the blue all these phone calls? There was a voicemail, too, which Allison wondered about. Was it Sam? He didn’t generally leave voicemails. Had he ever?

“Okay, I’m ready.” Molly had come out to the car and leaned down into the passenger window. 

“Oh, hi,” Allison said. “You—have you heard anything about your application yet?” Allison asked as Molly opened the back door.

“Oh, no, not yet.” Molly threw her suitcase in the back seat and looked over as if to say “have you?”

“Nothing about your character references being called?” Sam had been one of them, and his calling her, and so many times, made her more than a little nervous.

“No, why?” Molly sat in the passenger seat and glanced at Allison with concern.

“Oh, I dunno. I just never . . .” Allison’s voice drifted off. “Nothing to worry about, guess I’m just getting anxious.”

Molly laughed. “Yeah, hard not to. It's a big deal." When Allison flinched, thinking about everything that looked suspicious about her life, Molly added, "the job, I mean. It would be huge." Molly pulled her seatbelt on and flipped the visor down to block out the sun a bit. “You ready for this?”

Allison smiled. “Ready for what?”

“This is going to a lot, isn’t it?”

“A lot?”

“A week of wedding preparations? Isn’t that kind of a lot—like—all that happily ever after stuff?” 

Allison hadn't really been thinking about it that way. She had been thinking about helping Diane. Not what she'd be helping with. “Would you—you don't have to come early if you don't want—I just thought it might be kinda fun. Diane said there'd be some fun stuff—something about a lake or something?” She knew Molly had been married once. She hadn't thought about the memories all this wedding prep might dig up.

“Oh. No no, I don't care! I meant for you! All this marriage stuff after what you went through?” 

God bless her, Allison thought. As if that's what would trouble me. “Oh, I'm fine. I'm happy for her.” Allison's real fear was the wedding itself. And who she feared she might see. The week before, with decorating and organizing, was not even on her radar of things to worry about.

“Oh, that's reassuring. I'm happy to have the break. Your aunt is a lot of fun. Do you know who else will be there?”

“Diane said something about someone from her book club. And Billy's brother, and maybe one of his friends. I don't know, I've been so slammed—back and forth with a crazy schedule after I traded all that time in April. That was a poor choice, as it turns out.”

“I still can't get over that," Molly shook her head. "I know I'm here, but did you consider inviting Ty, at least?”

“Oh, that's…no, not really." Allison didn't consider it. Not for a second. But she felt she owed Molly more of an explanation. "I—I just didn't think I was ready.” And nor was she ready to have a rumor about her and some guy spreading around town. Or through the wedding.

“Not ready to have him meet your family?”

“Yeah.” Something like that.

“Makes sense. I guess you'd be a little reluctant to jump into something quickly,” Molly said with some feeling. 

Allison just nodded, still in her head, back to thinking about the voicemail, about the background check.

“You seem a little distracted,” Molly said, her eyebrows furrowing with concern.

Suddenly, Allison let out a laugh. What else could she do? Molly looked at her like she was crazy. But Molly often did that. Allison shrugged. “Just realizing I'll be still for a week. And home. And I'm really fucking looking forward to it.”

---

When they got to the hotel, Diane met them out front as Allison parked the rental car. "Hey sweets. Hi Molly! The others will be in tomorrow, but let's grab a bite to eat at the bar. Lots to do."

Allison had been waiting for an opportunity to call her voicemail, so she excused herself to put her bags in her room. "I'll come back down in a minute," she said. The elevator was creaking and slow, but eventually descended to the ground floor and took Allison and her bags up to the third again. She rounded the corner to her room, and, as soon as she was inside the door, she leaned back against it and dialed her voicemail.

“You have one unheard message.”

“Yes of course, blah blah blah,” Allison said to no one. "Come on."

And then a familiar voice started.

“Hi Allison. Just wanted to give you a heads up. Got a call on my work number from someone doing a background check. Don’t worry, I gave you a glowing review. But there were some questions about the six months that you were away that I didn’t feel comfortable answering with any authority. If you have any trouble, let me know—there are ways to contest the conclusions and I’m happy to talk you through the logistics of it. No charge.”

Allison, in her fit of ambition, had filled out that application for the international division, and had to put down three personal character references. But she had kinda hoped they wouldn’t actually call them. She put the names down with that very thought in mind. And with the thought that she really didn't have many choices.

Suddenly, it occurred to Allison. Oh shit. If they called her, and Sam was suddenly calling every five minutes, then they probably called the third name . . . Allison had to get on the phone with Sam. And soon.

After a pause, Renée's voice continued. “Oh, and, hey!" she sounded unusually animated. "I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow!”

Allison's whole body froze. Tomorrow? What was that about?

Chapter Text

Part III:

Maybe they're seeing 

something we don't

Renée's phone had been buzzing non-stop since they arrived at the hotel, burning a hole in the hidden side pocket of her dress. Before she had a chance to check it, she knew who it had to be. It had been like this all week, and she thought it was simply a “let's get everything done before you take a week off” sort of thing. But now that week off supposedly had started, and there was no let-up. Given that she agreed to go (not to mention what she had agreed to do), it wasn't fair to Patty to be distractedly texting all the time. Better for her to come alone than to come with someone who couldn’t even give her the time of day. Renée would know. 

But dinner was over now (thankfully) and it seemed entirely reasonable to slip away for a bit. She pulled Patty aside on her way to the room. “I gotta do some work—possibly make a few calls—I'll see if I can find a place down in the lobby. Maybe if the bar is emptyish?”

Patty looked confused. “Just use the room, it's got a desk and everything.”

“It's probably Tammy,” Renée offered, tentatively.

“So?”

“I didn't think you'd want to deal with that after all this.”

Patty rolled her eyes, as if she weren't bothered in the slightest by recent events, but Renée knew better. Renée had been watching all evening.

“In any case, I wouldn’t mind . . . a breather.” Renée didn’t have to spend an evening attached to Patty’s hip to remember what it was like to be there for real—as relatively brief as it was. It could be a little confusing, even if she knew completely that Patty was not playing games, not really. It was Renée's brilliant idea, after all. And so far Patty was playing up their ‘relationship’ less than she was (but no one would question Patty not showing much warmth—no one who knew her, anyway).

“Can’t fake affection any more today?” Patty smirked like she had her dead to rights.

Patty was always like this. Assuming the worst of herself. “Far from it. I need a little separation before we settle in for the night or I might make you try to forget why you’re here.”

Patty had no answer to that (except a bit of a wide-eyed stare), and Renée was satisfied that she made her point. 

“So I’ll see you a little later?”

Patty mumbled something about a book, but nodded and left to find the elevators. Renée walked down the hall of the main floor towards the bar and breakfast area, and found a little  business center with a desk that seemed to be unoccupied. She sat down to catch up on her text messages and realized the number had grown to ten:

[5:50 pm] I think I’ve got a lead on this guy.

[5:58 pm] No, seriously, I really do.

[6:00 pm] Give me a call, I want to see what you think. 

[6:10 pm] I mean, if you’re free. I know you’re my boss.

[6:25 pm] You know what I mean. I work for you. I can’t demand that you call me.

[6:30 pm] But, really, I think this is good stuff.

[8:15 pm] Okay, so I checked it out. I think I’m right about this.

[9:00 pm] Is dinner over yet? I know there was the whole opening thing . . .

[9:45 pm] Okay, so how about now? It’s almost ten.

[10:01 pm] How’s Patty doing?

So Tammy had finally gotten to the real point. Finding out what was up with Patty. But Renée was still curious about the so-called lead. Even if it was mostly bullshit. She hit send to call Tammy.

“Oh, hey,” Tammy said, coolly, as if she hadn’t been frantically texting all evening. 

“Was there something important?” Renée would be happy not to mention Patty at all, if she could get away with it.

“This Samuelson guy, I think I found him. You’ll never guess where.” At least Tammy was pretending this was about work.

“Where?”

“He’s working at O’Neill’s.”

“The bar . . .” Renée was going to say “that we used to go to.” But she didn’t.

“Yeah.” Tammy filled in the blank for her.

“What’s he doing there?”

“Dishwashing, apparently. Has been for a while. Might’ve even overlapped.” Well it was nice that she remembered.

“That’s funny.” Renée wasn’t sure if it was funny—or just unexpected.

“Tell me about it.”

“But hey—good work.” Renee could appreciate the effort Tammy put in, anyway.

“Thanks.”

Should I let her off the hook, though? “Why did you need my input?” Renée asked, abruptly.

“Oh, um . . . there was . . . ”

As suspected. “Oh, you know what? Patty says hi.”

“Really?” Tammy sounded stunned.

“No. Of course she didn’t.” 

“Oh.”

“But you know we’re not dating anymore, right?”

“You’ve mentioned that,” Tammy said, with barely a detectable ounce of chagrin.

“It’s still true.”

“Okay?” Tammy could make it simultaneously apparent that she was unconvinced and yet she didn’t care in the slightest.

“You sound like you don’t believe me.”

“You’re at a wedding together. You’re staying there in the same room for a week. It's none of my business.”

“How do you know we’re in the same room?”

Tammy said nothing.

“Tammy?”

“Sister’s calling me. Going out later.” Tammy just acted like she hadn't heard. “I’ll let you know in the next couple of days what I find out.”

“Mhm, sure.” Renée rolled her eyes. “Can’t wait.” She went to end the call but realized Tammy had done so first. Figured. 

Working with Tammy had been . . . interesting so far. Probably a good decision, since Tammy was incredibly competent, and Renée needed to get her practice off on the right foot. But it brought up a lot of interpersonal . . . stuff that Renée might have rather done without. For example, when Tammy started, Renée and Patty had been just friends and everything had been fine with Tammy. No weirdness about it. They even crossed paths occasionally getting a drink after work, and everything seemed regular. But as soon as Tammy heard about this wedding thing, that all changed. And Renée could hardly lie about it. Tammy was too good an investigator for that big of a lie to work . . . for long. Before she said something about going to the wedding, Renée had honestly thought Tammy was over Patty. Renée had been given plenty of opportunities to observe her, and Tammy had acted like she was.   

But . . . getting over an old flame wasn’t always easy. Renée knew it well enough. And feelings could pop back up . . . rather unexpectedly.

Now, as Renée walked out the door of the business center, she nearly ran into Molly, whom she had just met, and nodded a quick hello, which Molly returned with a big smile. 

Molly struck Renée as too optimistic for a town like this, but maybe it was all an act. Renée figured she had some time to find out. Might be interesting to see what made her tick. Or at least find out what she ever saw in Kevin. Allison had the excuse that she was only twenty when they met. Molly did not. Although, in her defense, she also didn’t stick around for very long.

Renée had plenty to think about as she made her way to the hotel bar and ordered a Manhattan. Patty undoubtedly was in the room reading, and could use her own breather. So there she sat, twirling the little straw absent-mindedly, letting her mind wander.

Hours earlier

After driving up to the front of the hotel, Renée walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, leaning over to help Patty out of the car. She could feel Patty's eyes on her as she did so. She supposed it was nice to know that she hadn't lost some effect on Patty, even if she played a distant second fiddle to her one-time friend and mentee. It was difficult to be angry about it. She liked Allison. A lot actually. And she missed seeing her. Especially since the last time she had, Allison was as cold as Worcester midwinter—and not just because it was January.

Renée knew she should have seen it. She often thought back to her conversation with Allison at the bar that day, and she realized Allison's reactions were not—as much as Renée had pretended they were—welcoming. Renée had dismissed this at the time as surprise, but she was now sure it was more than that. It was uncertainty, it was fear, it was . . . very possibly jealousy. And the sad thing was, Allison might not have even known it. Or she might have discouraged Renée from trying. But by the time Renée met her on the sidewalk outside the restaurant last winter, Allison's reaction could not have been clearer.

Since then, everything had seemed to be a series of missed chances for the two of them. Allison moved out and moved away, Renée walked in when Patty was on the phone and Allison had abruptly hung up after trying to say something. It was like the universe was keeping them from resolving their differences. When Renée heard about the wedding, it seemed like, finally, an opportunity to right the ship. To get it back on the course that Renée had caused it to veer away from. 

She admitted that she was, in fact, the cause. Or at least a cause. Patty wouldn’t hear it—didn’t believe for a second that Allison would have ever considered . . . anything like that. For Patty, Renée had actually saved her just in time. In Patty’s mind these days (or the part that spoke out), Allison was as straight as they came, a desperate flirt and a subtle manipulator, and she would’ve tortured Patty forever if she had the chance, keeping Patty wrapped around her little finger, always there whenever Allison happened to need her. Patty insisted that she could see it getting worse and had resolved to do something about it anyway. And yet this picture didn’t jive with what Renée knew of Allison. (Nor had Patty’s apparent convictions been enough for her to just move past it. She was here, after all, and if Patty didn’t have the same objective as Renée did, Renée wasn’t sure what her objective was.)

After hatching the current plan (which Renée thought of as a plan to make Allison jealous, even if Patty saw it as something else—maybe an act of self-preservation?), Patty tried to back out of the whole thing at least five times. And Renée had convinced Patty to hear her out—to let things happen and give Renée a chance to be right. 

So it was kinda important that Renée actually was right. In reality, not just in her own head. To be full of shit at a time like this would be so unfortunate.

The whole ride to the hotel, Patty had been fidgeting in the passenger seat, just as she had for that first date. Renée now understood that Patty had been worried that Allison would be home, would see them. Patty still didn't know how Allison found out in the end—she was convinced that Allison saw them come home or recognized Renée’s car when she finally came home. Renée was reluctant to disabuse her of this, to tell her that Allison knew before Patty did, that Allison gave Renée her blessing. Because it would be contradictory, would go against the picture she was painting for Patty. It would not convince Patty to believe her. And if she tried to explain that Allison seemed upset (if in retrospect), that didn't exactly do Renée any favors, either. 

Unfortunately, not everything always made sense, no matter how one tried to squeeze all the evidence into a neat little summation. For Renée, there was no sense highlighting what didn't fit the narrative. For example, Allison using Renée as a character reference. She would avoid telling Patty about that, too, if she could help it.

As Patty stepped out of the car, Renée was hopeful that her presence would be all Patty needed to survive the ordeal. Whether Renée was right or not about Allison, it would be an ordeal for Patty to spend the week with Allison. And if the ordeal was a bit Renée’s own fault, she kinda owed it to Patty to be here. Glancing at Patty’s face, Renée saw that Patty was, in fact, looking at her with relief and a little bit of pride. It was a promising start.

But just as quickly, Patty’s face transformed. Her eyes were big, and hurt, and that downturn her mouth did anyway—that went slack. Renée gave her a questioning glance, and then turned to see what Patty had seen. 

“Don’t look over!” Patty said, sharply, but it was too late. Renée had fully turned to see Allison, in a very short sleeveless dress, being slowly released from a hug by a man with dark hair and a goatee, who let his hand slide down her bare arm and squeeze her hand in a rather familiar way.  

“Who’s that?” Renée said, under her breath as she turned back to Patty, who had schooled her features into a more blasé attitude. The one she was an expert at showing to the world. 

“Paris, I guess,” Patty said with contempt, her mouth a short line now, apparently anger getting the better of her.

“You brought a date, too, don’t forget,” Renée said, knowing that the truth was unlikely to help, but figuring she had no cause to downplay reality at this point.

“It’s not about that,” Patty mumbled, although what it was about was less clear.

“Would you rather get the room first? Come back later?”

“Yes,” Patty said through her teeth, so Renée steered them away from Allison’s direction and towards the front desk, where they were able to check-in and head up to the room to unpack before anyone could greet them. 

But this had only delayed the inevitable. Fifteen minutes later, Renée was practically dragging Patty by the arm into a small banquet room where a buffet was being set out, and a large table had been laid out in the middle of the room.  Folks were still milling about at one end, where a bartender poured drinks.

“This is kinda fancy, isn’t it?” Renée asked Patty, as Patty hesitated in the doorway, not budging.

“Uh. Yeah.” Patty replied, looking around, warily. 

“I wouldn’t have thought Allison’s aunt would be able to afford—” Renée started, when the man from earlier came up behind both of them and clapped them on the shoulder. 

“Welcome, welcome,” he said, his voice a trifle too loud, his familiarity more than a little unexpected. “You must be Patty and Renée. The only two I haven’t met yet. Come in! Have a drink.”

As he was met with a blank stare from Patty, Renée gave him a tight “Yes, nice to meet you . . .”

“Benny. Well, Benjamin. Terrell. Little brother of the groom. This little spread is on me.”

That explains that, Renée thought. 

“My restaurant is doing the catering. Benny’s. On Park.”

“Ah,” Renée said. “Isn’t that splendid. Well, Patty, did you know the Benny is Billy’s brother?”

Patty looked the man up and down and raised an eyebrow. She shook her head.

Benny turned to Patty, reached out his hand, and took hers in both of his. “It is a real pleasure to finally meet you. Both my brother and Diane speak so highly of you.” He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek before turning to Renée, who gave him a glare of warning. He stood up straight, tipped an invisible hat and said “see you around. Grab a drink!” before heading to the other side of the room. Patty looked after him, her mouth still open, dumbly.

“You know, I’m not sure . . .” Renée began, doubting their earlier impression.

“I can’t believe it’s that guy,” Patty mumbled, presumably referencing Allison.

“I don’t think so. Maybe she’s here alone, after all?” Renée looked at Patty hopefully, who didn’t seem willing to get her hopes up. “Only one way to find out.”

Patty just rolled her eyes, as Diane and Billy caught Renée’s eye, and came over to greet them.

—

Assigned seating had them at the opposite end of the long table from Allison, who arrived five minutes after everyone had sat down. She walked in the door, taking in the table, and her eyes immediately fixed on Patty, and then Renée. Patty was looking down, but when Renée met Allison’s eyes, she stumbled a bit on her heels and apologized meekly, before sitting down in the empty spot and staring into the salad laid out in front of her.

Allison was sitting across from Diane and to the right of Benny, and on Allison’s right was a woman with light brown, wavy hair that Renée didn't immediately recognize. Patty nudged Renée with her elbow.

“What's Molly doing here?” she asked, barely loud enough to hear. 

Ah, Molly. Renée shrugged. “You would know better than I would,” she whispered.

Patty furrowed her brow and went back to picking out and eating the croutons from her salad one by one. 

“You can eat the colorful stuff, too, y’know,” Renée said, loudly enough that the man to Patty’s right laughed slightly.

“Thanks, I know,” Patty said, giving Renée a glare. Renée noticed the man's plate was untouched, as well.

Renée smiled. “Looks like someone after your own heart,” she said nodding to the man, who smiled back.

He brushed his hand off on his napkin and reached out to Patty. “I'm Richard.” He met the eye of the woman across from him. “This is my wife, Susan.”

“Oh I know Patty,” Susan said, smiling with an odd glee. Renée wondered what she was getting at.

Patty looked up and gave her a sort of nod of acknowledgment. 

Susan turned to Renée. “The book club, you know,” she said to Renée. “We meet at her salon sometimes. Now I’m a customer.” She patted her hair, and Patty grimaced.

“Oh, what are you reading?” Renée hadn’t been paying much attention to the book club stuff, and perhaps she should have.

“We read Little Fires Everywhere last month, so someone wanted to read Everything I Never Told You. But honestly, I don’t know. It’s so sad.” Susan looked more than a little frustrated.

Renée was out of her depth with anything published after she got out of law school. They had been some slow reading years . . . or decades. “Is that how you know Diane?” Renée remembered Patty saying something about Diane showing up out of the blue, soon after they ran into her.

“Oh, well, not originally. We go way back. High school, at least. Maybe junior high. And I always go to Deftos when I throw my parties.”

Wondering whether this “going way back” extended to the family, Renée ventured a question. “Oh, do you know Allison?” Patty jammed her heel into Renée’s toe. She was happy she had passed on the open-toe heels.

“Who?” Susan asked. 

“Diane’s niece. Just walked in late.”

Susan looked towards the end of the table, towards Allison.

“Oh, um. She used to work at Deftos? Haven't seen her there lately . . .”

“I guess she’s been out of town.” Renée wondered if she could get some insight into what Allison had been up to.

“Oh! That's right! Allison.” Susan acted like she remembered something important. “She’s the flight attendant. Oh yes, of course. Always out of town.”

Renée looked over at Patty, who looked more confused than she’d ever seen her. Renée replied, “That makes more sense, actually. I didn't realize.”

Susan leaned forward so that she could speak a little lower. “Diane is always acting like her job is so glamorous, but I don't know that flying to Pennsylvania and back really counts for much.”

Renée smiled politely, and looked up to catch Allison, down the table, looking away quickly. Renée decided to go for it. “Allison!” she said, with some volume, to get her attention.

Allison turned back, surprised. “Oh. Um, hi. I didn't see you there.” Renée knew very well she was lying, but there was no good in pointing it out. 

“How have you been? I haven't seen you in months? I heard you aren't working at Bev's anymore.”

“Yeah, nope. Not for a while," Allison said, impatient for the polite exchange to be over.

“You're a flight attendant?”

Allison nodded, and her glance fixed on Patty.

“I heard you were in Paris recently,” Renée said, hoping to find out what that was about.

“Oh, well, not exactly—” Allison began, but Diane cut in.

“You never did tell me how that turned out, sweets. Why not?” Diane had a look of concern that Renée wasn't expecting. 

Allison, who was looking at Patty again (Patty herself was studying her fork), had a look of fear—her eyes went wide and she clammed up.

“Sweets?” Diane questioned.

“Oh it was fine,” Allison said, quickly, in a way that would have ended inquiry, but Benny, who had been talking loudly to his brother about a new sandwich they planned to roll out, and who so far appeared to be immune to subtlety, suddenly spoke.

“Oh! I love Paris. Paris is absolutely fantastic in the springtime.”

“Oh?” Diane asked, and Benny went on and on about the Eiffel Tower, and the Louvre, and some delightful little outdoor cafes that the tourists didn't know about. Billy frowned at him, and Allison was silent—off in her own little world. In the end, neither Renée nor Patty spoke to her again at dinner. Afterwards, when Renée had hoped to find her and make Patty say hi, she had disappeared. Instead, Renée met Molly, briefly, and the rest of the others, before giving up on Allison's return and getting out of there, Patty practically pulling her by the wrist through the winding hallways.

—

Her drink was about half empty, and the bar completely empty, when Renée heard a sound behind her. She turned to see Allison, her back already turned to walk the other direction.

“Hold on,” Renée said. “Wait.”

Allison paused before turning. Her eyes were red, and her mascara looked a little smudged. “What?”

“Did you get my message?” Renée asked.

“Sure,” Allison looked down, still standing in the same spot. “Didn’t know what you meant when you said you’d see me . . . well, today,” Allison’s foot scuffed at the floor. She was still wearing the sleeveless dress, but she had on flat sandals now, which Renée was pretty sure she hadn’t been wearing when she almost tripped in the banquet hall. “Guess I do now.”

“Guess so,” Renée tried to catch her eye, and when Allison glanced up again, she waved her over. “I guess your aunt didn’t explain who would be here.”

Allison looked indecisive, but slowly made her way to the bar. “No, she did not.” Allison smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I find she was deliberately vague.”

“You think so?”

“‘Book club people,’ she said,” Allison rolled her eyes. “You know, she tried to invite me once. Never told me why.”

“Ah, Patty’s salon thing?”

“Yeah, just found out about that.”

“I see.”

“No one tells me anything.”

“Go ahead and sit down, I’ll get you a drink.” Renée called the bartender over. “What would you like?”

Allison shrugged. “You don’t have to.”

“You were here for a reason. What were you going to get?”

Allison bit her lip. “A beer.”

“Thought you didn’t like beer?”

Allison scoffed. “Does everyone know that?”

“Never mind. Do you still want one?” The bartender was waiting patiently in front of them.

Allison turned to him and ordered something on tap, before turning back to Renée and sitting down next to her. Renée turned around on her stool so she faced Allison. “So this is familiar,” Allison said, her face unreadable.

“Been about a year,” Renée said, knowing exactly what Allison must be referencing.

“A little less.”

“Hmm,” Renée saw that Allison, too, was very exact on dates. 

As the bartender got Allison the beer, neither of them said anything. Renée came to realize that Allison had no plans to chat. 

“I can’t help but feel you’re angry at me for some reason,” Renée said. When she saw that Allison was about to protest, she added, “but then I found out you listed me as a character reference, and I was more than a little confused.”

Allison took a sip of beer and winced. Renée tried her best to ignore the look. “I didn’t think I’d have to see you,” Allison said, staring into the glass.

“And it’s that terrible?” Renée was pretty sure she knew why, but she had this chance to find out, and she didn’t want to waste it. 

Allison looked hurt.

“We were friends, weren’t we?” Renée gave her a slight nudge with her leg.

Allison looked deep in thought. “Yeah.”

“But we’re not anymore?”

Allison still stared, mostly downward, but her eyes widened a bit as if considering a new idea. “I haven’t heard from you in a bit.”

“Likewise.” Allison looked up sharply.

“Yeah, but—” She was ready to complain. 

“But you were avoiding Patty, not me.”

“She was avoiding me!” Allison said, her voice filling with emotion—Renée at first thought it was anger and then she was no longer sure. 

“I—” Renée realized she wasnt authorized to confirm or deny. A lot of help she was.

“Don’t even worry about it.” Allison laughed, without humor. “It doesn’t matter. I’m fucked.” 

“What are you talking about, Patty—”

“I listed her as a character reference, too! I didn’t think they’d actually call them." Allison had a look on her face that told Renée she blamed herself for just about everything. "She hates me. That’s not really going to help my chances much, is it?” Allison sighed. “And now we have to spend the week together. You should see the itinerary.”

“Itinerary?” There was a lot to unpack in Allison’s words, but for some reason, this is what Renée asked first.

“Oh, basically everything that Benny’s sells advertising to—the paddleboats at the lake on the grounds here, seats behind the dugout at the WooSox game, the fucking ice skating rink! You name it—we’re all going. He basically made it my week from hell. I’m going to spend a fucking week like this.”

Renée hadn't had a clue what the plans for the week were. If Patty knew, she hadn't shared them. This could get interesting. “Speaking of Benny, actually,” Renée wanted to clear something up. “Are you two—?”

“Are we what?”

“Um, dating?”

“God, no!” Allison looked appalled. “Why?”

“When we got in earlier, he was kinda—”

Allison shuddered. “I think he does that to everyone. I—no! I just met him! I knew Billy, but I didn’t know that was his brother.”

“Ah.”

“Jesus,” Allison said. “I hoped you thought better of me—” Allison stopped, as if realizing. “Oh.”

“What?”

“Guess I don’t have the best track record.” She shrugged, defeated.

“Allison, that’s hardly what—”

“Nope, you can say it. I’m an idiot. I married a moron, I throw away—” Allison had a sharp intake of breath. “Well, let’s just say, I suck.”

“Not at all.”

“Hmmph. I notice you didn’t contradict me earlier.”

“Contradict you?”

“I know she doesn’t want to be here. I can tell when she doesn’t want to be somewhere.”

“It’s not because of you.” Was that a lie, exactly? The truth was rather hard to define.

“Then who?”

Renée, again, had walked into a question she wasn’t authorized to answer. She was usually so good at this kind of thing, but maybe when things got personal she was out of her depth. She switched subjects. “Patty's not going to ruin your job application, or whatever it is.”

“What?”

“If you put her as a character reference, she won't sabotage you.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I just know.”

“Well, that makes one of us." Allison sighed. "I need this. I don’t have anything else.”

“That’s not—” Renée wished she had thought about what she wanted to say before actually having this conversation, and maybe then she wouldn't be at a loss for responses. “You know what? I—the guy who’s doing the background checks, the one who called me. I know him.”

“You do? So?”

“So, if I’m wrong, maybe I can fix it some other way?” 

“It’s probably not going to matter.” Allison shook her head. “Sam said he wasn’t expecting the questions, and he may have—alerted the guy to something suspicious. Patty probably did the same. I should’ve warned everyone, should’ve come up with a story. But I didn’t. And now, not only will I not get this job, but my current job will probably fire me, too. And maybe they’ll talk to the police, and—”

“Allison!” Renée stuck a hand out and grabbed Allison’s shoulder, as she seemed about to fall forward off her stool. “It’s not that bad. Here, I’ll tell you what. I’ll talk to Patty. I’ll see whether she’s heard from the guy yet. If not, you can work something out. And I can always call him back. He would trust me.” Renée needed to get her shit together before talking to Patty. That was for sure.

“But I can’t—I can’t ask Patty—”

“Yes, you can.” Renée said with conviction.

“She already thinks I’ve taken advantage—”

“But she lo—” Renée shut her mouth quickly. “She looked upset today because she thought you wouldn’t want to see her.” Finally, her fuzzy brain was getting somewhere. But that was a close one.

“Sure,” Allison said, with no conviction.

“Wouldn’t I know?”

“I guess you would.” Allison looked like she believed Renée this time, but that it wasn't good news.

Renée nodded. She squeezed Allison’s knee as she hopped off the stool. “Don’t worry about any of this. Everything is going to work out just fine.” It was time to finish up this conversation before she made Allison's night any worse.

Allison looked like she was about to cry. But she nodded in acknowledgment and took up her beer.

Chapter Text

Molly looked in the mirror, straightening a wayward curl and adjusting the shoulder strap of her dress. A little uncomfortable wandering around alone with all these people she barely knew, she had been looking for Allison, who had ducked out at some point during dessert when everyone had been remarking on the richness of the hot fudge. But Allison's dessert went untouched and she was nowhere to be found. The bathroom, too, held no sign of her.

Behind Molly’s right shoulder, a woman emerged from a stall, letting out a slight laugh. “Your friend really found a good one, there.”

Molly wasn't sure she understood. They had arrived late to the dinner, Allison walking in when everyone was already seated, and hadn't been able to meet everyone yet. Molly hadn't picked up the woman's name.

“That's Diane's niece? The one next to you? They look alike. I just figured.” The woman shrugged.

Molly understood that Allison was her friend, but that didn’t explain the ‘good one.’  “Oh, um, yes, but, that's not—that's not her boyf—, um—”

“These days no one ever wants to put a label on it. But honestly, she seems too young for him.” The woman had proceeded to wash her hands and was now delicately drying off each finger with the fancy paper towels in a way Molly had never seen.

“I mean, sure, but—”

“And too good-looking. Although I guess her husband wasn't what you'd call ‘conventionally attractive.’” The woman had reached into her purse for some sort of skin cream she was applying precisely under each eye.

Molly expected the woman to actually look over, but she continued into the mirror. Molly felt the need to clarify. “They're not dating. She just met him.”

“Oh, sure dear, but—”

“No. Literally. They met this afternoon. She'd never seen Benny before in her life.”

Finally, the woman turned, resentment written on her face. “But Diane made a joke to me just a few days ago about ‘throwing them into the deep end’ for a week.” A long sigh punctuated the recollection. “I just assumed she meant she was testing out their relationship.”

“Oh.” Molly could only imagine that Diane had hoped Allison would bring Ty. If that had been the case, he'd have to meet her family and friends in such an intimate setting. All rather daunting. “But I don't think—Diane must've expected that Allison would bring her—well, not really her boyfriend, but—but—Allison brought me instead.” Molly felt a little silly saying as much. Where was Allison, anyway?

“She brought you?” The woman looked Molly up and down. “Huh.” Molly thought she heard her mumble “I wouldn't have figured,” followed by “I guess they're everywhere nowadays,” but she wasn't completely sure.

“We're friends. We work together,” Molly offered helpfully.

“I see.” The woman was rifling through her purse, but given the number of tsks and huffs, she didn't appear to be getting anywhere.

“No, but—” Molly stopped. What difference did it make? “Well, anyway, it’s nice to meet you.” Or not meet you. 

The woman nodded and went on looking through her purse, in a way that seemed to exclude further conversation. Molly walked out of the bathroom and back to the banquet room, where most of the crowd was still milling around with drinks. But not Allison. Where was she?

Molly spotted Patty, and felt that she should go say hi. It had been months—over a year?—since they had interacted. They had never said much to one another, but they inevitably ran into each other when she was dating Kevin. And there were a few times—after—that they saw each other. It was often awkward. “Hi!” Molly ventured, hoping that her enthusiasm might make up for lack of subject matter.

“Hey,” Patty said, turning her head, giving a pointed look to the woman she was with, standing a few feet away, who Molly understood to be Renée. Molly had seen her that day at the restaurant, the day Allison seemed so off. Molly had chalked it all up as the loss Allison was feeling, moving on from where she had been so long. Moving away from the street where she had lived with Kevin, the neighbor she had lived next to, had grown close to, who was also moving in her own direction.  

As Molly reflected, Renée moved over to stand beside Patty and reached out her hand to introduce herself.

“Hi, I’m Renée. Donnelly.” She tilted her head slightly towards Patty, which Molly assumed was a subtle form of association. An “I’m here with her.” “You must be Molly,” Renée said with a smile. “Patty pointed you out to me earlier.” An uninterpretable look passed from Renée to Patty as she said this, but Molly let it go.

“So nice to meet you! I haven’t talked to Patty in ages,” Molly turned back to Patty. “How have you been? I think I saw you, and, uh, Renée,” Molly nodded in acknowledgment, “last January outside on the street when I—you see, I was having lunch with Allison and then we saw you—” Molly wasn’t sure if she should say much else, given that Allison wasn’t exactly pleased to see them. Didn’t exactly run out to meet them.

“Oh. Huh.” Patty said, as though she had no idea.

“Of course!” Renée smiled. “We saw you as you were leaving,” Renée gave Patty a soft elbow, “you remember that! You said ‘Oh that’s Allison and Molly!’” Renee turned back to Molly, “And we totally should have run out to say hi, but we were afraid they’d think we were skipping out on the bill, didn’t we honey?”

Patty gave Renée a bit of an eye roll, but nodded slowly. 

Molly thought it was a shame that they hadn’t. “That’s too bad. I bet you would’ve cheered Allison right up. I think she was having a time. We were about to move into the crash pad. I think she was feeling a bit, well, undecided about the whole thing.” There was nothing wrong with saying as much, right?

“Really?” Renée said, tilting her head, and then looking at Patty. “Imagine that.” Renée was very friendly and outgoing, but Molly couldn’t help but feel like Renée knew something important that Molly didn’t. She just had that sort of . . . expression. “Imagine that Allison wasn’t happy to be moving out.” Renée gave Patty a look as she said it.

Molly smiled. “She was sad to have missed you, I think. But we were due at a party. And she still had to get her things from the apartment. Well—you know.” When Molly looked at Patty, Patty’s face was nearly inscrutable, but her eyes widened slightly in a way that Molly, once again, couldn’t interpret. Molly laughed awkwardly, not knowing what else to do. “We told our friend Ty that we’d be there, and it was at the house we were moving into. Anyway, I think Allison kinda started something with him later that evening, so it was—” The look that Patty was giving her was such that Molly closed her mouth again. What?

Renée smiled again—the same look coming to her face. Like she already knew everything. “You don’t say? Started something?”

Molly smiled again, this time in embarrassment. “I’m—don’t listen to me, I—Allison has got to be around here somewhere, to speak for herself.” Molly nervously looked out the doors to the hall, but, still, nothing.

“Wait, um—” Patty spoke out, uncharacteristically. “You work with her now—you’re a—you’re a flight attendant, too?” She spoke of Allison but didn't say her name.

Molly was happy to get back on a conversation topic she was comfortable with. “Yeah! We applied together. We ran into each other at the Seas last fall, just happened to hear about openings from the bartender, well Ty, the guy who . . . well, anyway, we decided, you know, on a whim, together ‘what the hell?’, we were both just sick of sitting still, we had talked about wanting a change of scenery. And, you know, it’s been—” how had it been? “It’s been a real experience.” Molly had never felt so free in her entire life, actually.

“I bet,” Patty said, tersely. “When—um, when did you apply?”

“Oh, I think it was in October or so. Took a while to get hired. Lots of hoops to jump through.” That was an understatement. And this latest job opening was looking to be even worse.

Patty nodded almost imperceptibly and looked lost in thought.

“Wait—I thought—didn’t Allison tell you all this?”

Patty’s mouth turned up into a smile that disappeared just as quickly, and she turned away, walking to the small bar that had been set up in the corner. It was a look that Patty had often given her. It was the same brush off.

“I’m sorry about that,” Renée said, looking rather annoyed, “I think she hasn’t been feeling well.”

Molly shrugged. “That’s how I remember Patty. She never was a talker, I was so surprised to find out she and Allison had gotten to be such friends. She barely said hi to me. I always ended up chatting with Tammy.”

At the mention of Tammy, Renée smirked. But then her smile softened. “I think maybe Allison brings out the best in her,” Renée said, her face apologetic.

Molly smiled, too, in sympathy. “Maybe so.” She sighed. “But hey—I’ll let you go. I was hoping to find Allison. She just disappeared.” Molly laughed, awkwardly again. Renée said a brief goodbye, and Molly left the banquet room to explore the hotel a bit, hoping she might spot Allison on her phone or otherwise. She hadn’t been answering texts, either. It was a little shitty to leave Molly alone like this.

—

Molly walked into the hallway and, feeling a buzz, opened her phone. It wasn't Allison. Instead, there was a text from Ty, which made her smile. 

     How’s the shindig?

She responded.

     Better if you were here

There. She said it. 

     Really?

     Really

She smiled to herself, and, an answer not immediately forthcoming, she put her phone away. She went outside, circling the swimming pool and picnic area, and ending up on a peaceful walk around the lake behind the property, where she decided it was beautiful enough around the grounds that Allison could abandon her here all she wanted. As she came back through the lobby, Molly was about to turn the corner when she heard voices speaking low, and realized one was Renée. She stopped in her tracks. 

“I didn't think you'd want to deal with that after all this.” Renée said, with emphasis. But what the dealing was, Molly hadn’t heard. “In any case, I wouldn’t mind . . . a breather.” Renée continued, her voice still low, as if not to be overheard. Molly began to feel like she shouldn’t be where she was, that this was a private conversation. But she needed to go that way to get to the elevators, and . . .

“Can’t fake affection any more today?” Molly heard Patty say in response, her tone sarcastic, and Molly almost gasped, before recovering herself and putting her hand to her mouth to muffle any sound. Not willing to hear any more, she turned around and started walking in the direction of the outside. Maybe one more trip around the lake was called for. Maybe Allison was swimming or something.

—

After another lap, stalling for time, Molly inched her way into the hotel again, and managed to bump straight into Renée, who she greeted, trying to paste on a smile that covered her embarrassment. That over with, she peeked into the business center and the phone cubbies, ran up to her room, and giving up on Allison once and for all, went outside to just sit for a while. She enjoyed the cooler evening air and the soft sounds of the lake, until true darkness set in, and she reluctantly made her way back to the hotel. She should call her mother, make sure her grandmother was doing okay. Her grandmother hadn’t been feeling well when Molly left.  She could also use a drink, perhaps. She hadn’t really had anything at the dinner, trying to make a good impression on all the relative strangers, and a cocktail sounded nice right about now. Her mom could wait fifteen minutes—she was probably watching a show, anyway, and wouldn't want to be interrupted.

When she reached the bar, Allison was there, head in her hands. Had she been here the whole time? Molly wasn’t sure she’d checked. It hadn't even occurred to her.

"This looks familiar," Molly said, thinking back to the night at the Seas when she ran into Allison, when Allison met Ty, when this whole thing started.

"Yeah, a little too familiar." Allison grimaced. “For too many reasons.”

Molly had more of Ty’s side of the story than Allison’s, but she got the feeling that something went wrong somewhere. This setting maybe wasn't helping. "A little different from the Seas though."

Allison looked around at the small bar, the fancy hotel decor, and she nodded with a smile. "This may be the nicest place I've ever been." She let out a laugh that sounded like she was scoffing at herself. "Something to appreciate, anyway."

"Not having a good time?" Molly came over and sat beside Allison, ordering her own drink.

"Yesterday was all right.” Allison shrugged.

"But not today?" Molly took her drink and had a first sip. 

"Today I'd like to be about a thousand miles from here." Allison sighed and twirled her glass. 

"Benny is too much, isn't he?"

Allison's laugh sounded almost crazy. "Yeah. That's what's wrong."

Molly suspected she knew the real issue. "Harder than you thought?"

"What do you mean?" Allison sounded surprised. 

Molly realized she was finally getting somewhere. "I just get the feeling this is all a little more than you expected. That maybe you wish that—" But Molly couldn’t just say it.

"Hah, yeah, well, I certainly didn't know who would be here." Allison’s face was full of pained laughter.

So maybe Benny was bothering her. "You'd prefer to have a bit of a buffer?"

"That's what you're here for.” Allison shrugged again, apologetically. “I knew I’d need you, I just didn't think I'd have to deal with this all week." Molly nodded, and Allison kept going. "This—this week before—this was supposed to be the easy part." Allison thought for a moment. "Not to say that I'm not glad I asked you—I just—clearly I'd rather have you here than not."

"Oh I know, y’know, ideally, you'd rather—"

Allison shook her head. "It's too late now. I've fucked it up and it's never going to be the same."

This was a harsher picture than Molly had previously been given. She swiveled on her seat to face Allison, who still looked away. "What really happened?"

"Didn't I tell you?" Allison asked into her beer glass.

"A little, I guess." Or next to nothing.

"Well, the point is it's my fault. All of it. I was selfish. And stubborn. And I’m the one who’s suffering for it. So I deserve this, I do.” Allison’s shoulders slumped. She believed what she was saying.

Molly put her hand on Allison’s knee and gave it a shake. “You can fix it.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Who?”

“Renée.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize . . . did you tell her about it?”

“I think she just knows. She’s like that.”

Molly was happy she wasn't the only one who felt like Renée knew something she didn't. “She seems great. But, you know, do you think her and Patty—?” Molly wondered if Allison had noticed anything that could explain that strange conversation. She knew Patty so well. Or used to.

Allison scoffed. “They seem perfect for each other,” she said, a bitterness to her voice. It was hard to be happy for people when your own life was all mixed up.  

Molly figured it was none of her business to speculate. “So Renée told you that you can fix it?”

“More or less. She’s an optimist. She thinks everything can be fixed. And no wonder. She usually can fix everything that troubles her.”

“Aren’t you an optimist?” Molly never knew Allison to expect the worst. 

Allison's smile still did not reach her eyes. “Only when I’m delusional.”

“That’s not—”

“It’s a problem I have.”

“I don’t think so.” Molly thought Allison didn't give herself enough credit. She had spoken to Ty so many times. It was far from hopeless.

“Regardless.” Allison through her hands into the air a little. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do now.”

“Can’t you just pick up the phone?”

“Why do that, when I’m here? All week.”

“I don’t think it’s too late, I think you should go for it. You are here. You’re not up in the air somewhere. Off in another city. You’ve got a week.” Molly gave her best cheerful smile.

Allison shook her head slightly, but said nothing.

—

Molly decided she could help Allison out. Since she apparently wasn’t going to help herself.

Once in her room, Molly opened her phone. Ty had responded to her earlier text.

     You want me to come?

She knew why he was so eager.

He had been very talkative of late. Ever since April, and the apparent fiasco that was Paris, she had heard from him daily, and now Molly knew just about everything. Including a few things she wasn’t completely sure she ought to know. But Ty had confided in Molly, hoping to get some insight into what went wrong. And Allison was being very close-lipped even though it was obviously upsetting her. The whole conversation in the bar proved it.

She repeated herself for good measure.

     If you want to be here, you should come

There was a bit of a delay before Ty's response came through.

     And Allison’s aunt won’t mind?

     I think she’d want to meet you

     You know, I’m not sure that’s a good idea, with everything that happened

He was as bad as Allison sometimes.

     Come on!

     You really think it’s okay? 

     I do!

     Okay. Should I let Allison know?

     I’ll tell her. 

     Are you sure?

     Yeah.

     Okay. Let me see. I have off a few days.

Molly chuckled at his miraculous availability at a moment's notice. He continued. 

     The wedding is on Saturday?

Molly smiled.

    Yes

This was how it was supposed to be. Molly didn't think she was going to say anything. Allison might try to argue against it. But she could use a good surprise for once.

Chapter Text

“Jesus,” Patty said to herself, as she set down her phone on the bed beside her and went to reach for the TV remote. Renée chose that moment to walk through the door. “You’ll never believe this shit," Patty told her. 

“What is it?” Renée closed the door quickly and set the deadbolt, as though someone was outside trying to listen in. 

“Those reporters are still out there looking for a story. This time the guy said he was doing a fucking background check. Will they never stop?” Patty hadn’t had a call like this in months, but there was no mistaking it. They made up the most batshit stories.

“Patty, this guy was doing a background check.”

“How would you know?”

“Allison applied for a job and listed us as references.”

What the hell?  “Us?”

“I got a call a couple of days ago.”

“Why did she—?” This information was hard to process. It was some guy doing a background check? Allison listed her as a character reference?

“Who else would she list?” Renée asked, sounding not the least bit surprised or concerned.

Patty didn’t have a great answer to that one. “Sam?”

Renée sat down on the edge of the bed. “I think she did list Sam.”

“Oh.”

Renée gently put her hand on Patty’s forearm. “Did you—what did you say?”

Patty thought about it. She blew out a breath. 

“Patty.”

“What? I used to make up all kinds of shit to give them the runaround. I—”

“What did you tell him?” Renée looked at her sternly. 

“The one about her hiking the Appalachian trail and going off the grid on a journey to find herself.” It was the one Patty found most amusing. And also the easiest to excuse if anyone followed up. 

“I guess . . . I guess it could be worse. Fuck, though, I doubt that’s consistent with what Sam. . . Damn. Bad timing,” Renée looked displeased. “And I just told Allison you would help her.” She rolled her eyes.

“I was helping her! That’s what—wait—you just told her? I thought you were working.”

Renée looked a little sheepish. As sheepish as she ever got. “I may have run into her at the bar.”

“Wait, you did? What did she say? Did she—” Patty shut her mouth when she saw the eyes Renée was giving her.

“Did I what?”

“Never mind, then.”

“I’m not here to act as some kind of go-between. If you want to know what’s up with her, you. have. to. talk. to. her. yourself.”

“Okay, fine, but now I’ve messed up her—" Patty stilled. "What does she need a background check for?”

“Airlines can't be too careful. Especially if you’re flying internationally. I bet she’s trying to expand her routes.”

“Oh.” Patty didn’t like the sound of that.

“What now?”

“She wants to be anywhere but here.” Allison didn’t just want to move away, she wanted to leave the same airspace. Patty looked towards the window. It was dark outside, but she could see the lights of the hotel's back patio and pool deck.

Renée turned Patty’s face back towards her. “Talk to her.”

“But what do I do about this guy?” Patty motioned to her phone.

“Call him back.”

“And say what?”

“The truth, I guess.”

“No. No no no.” The truth was never going to work.

“What is it with you two? You’d think you were running some kind of underground drug ring.”

Patty understood she was joking, but jesus. 

“Huh,” Renée said, weighing Patty’s reaction.

Better fix it . . .  “I wasn’t— We weren’t—”

“Okay, Patty. I don’t need to know. Better if I don’t. Regardless. You should probably call back and explain that you thought he was a reporter. And maybe get your story straight with Allison.”

Patty got out her phone to see if she had the number. “Shit. Again.”

“Now what?”

“I forgot, his number was unlisted. I only answered because I thought it might be something wedding-related.”

“That's odd.”

"It just says ‘private.’”

“Ah, okay. Well. We’re in luck. I know him." Getting up, Renée added, "Hold on. I think I have his card.”

“You have his fucking card?”

“We used to hire him to investigate for us. At McLaughlin.” Patty gave her a look, and she kept going. “So what? I keep this shit—I like business cards.” Renée went to her suitcase and pulled out what looked like a wallet, but appeared to be full of little cards.

“Jesus, what is that?”

“Hey, it’s helpful sometimes. Here.” Renée handed her a card. Tim Mulligan, Private Investigator. It had a number. And an address. “Call him.”

“Okay.” Patty really didn’t want to.

“And talk to her. Probably before you call him. So, better do it soon.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“And now you’re trapped here together. So there’s no time like the present.” After Renée saw Patty's look, she conceded, "It can wait 'til morning."

Patty wished she could find out more about Renée’s discussion with Allison without asking. “Did Allison say she wanted—”

Renée cut her off again with a look and a shake of her head. “I’m not doing this.”

“You are here pretending to be my date. You don’t get to be all high and mighty.”

“Actually that’s exactly why I get to be.”

“You’re obnoxious,” Patty mumbled, although she was pretty sure Renée could hear.

“Hmm.” 

“What?”

“You will go out of your way to avoid doing the one thing you want to do the most.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You get a week to hang out with her. All the time. She’s not here with anyone. She confirmed that she just met Benny today, by the way. You’re welcome.” Renée looked very proud of herself. “You can reconcile, you can spend every minute of every day just—together.”

“Won’t she be kinda suspicious about us?” Allison may not have been there with anyone, but Patty was supposed to be. And there was still that guy Molly had casually mentioned. Where was he?

“So?” Renée had a response to everything, didn’t she?

“I—”

“So she guesses you’ve got a front? Or maybe she just thinks I’m a reasonable person who doesn’t want you to lose all your friends when you date me.”

“Friends. Right. That's what got me in trouble in the first place. Thinking we could be friends.”

“Well you are. Whatever else you are, you are that. Or you should be. My point is, it doesn’t matter what she thinks about us. We’re not real. And she’s going to know eventually.”

“Well—” 

“Even if you end up just friends, and that’s all you are—I think she’s going to have to eventually know. I’m not marrying you just to keep the ruse alive.” Renée smirked.

Patty rolled her eyes. The reality of the situation was quickly catching up to her. It all sounded easy when she hadn't seen Allison in months. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Better find out soon before you waste the chance.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll talk to her.” Patty said it, but she wasn’t sure she meant it. She just wanted Renée to shut up.

“Good.” 

“Any more advice from the oracle?”

“We should go to bed.” Renée raised an eyebrow.

Patty groaned.

“To sleep. Allison said there’s a full schedule ahead. Continental breakfast, paddle boats to a picnic lunch tomorrow. We got a schedule in the welcome bag, apparently.”

“Right.” Patty knew, but she had been trying to forget. Exasperation was going to be her mode all week, she could feel it. She swore under her breath. “Asshole.”

“I heard that.”

Of course she did.

The next day

Patty lowered herself down onto the seat of the paddle boat gingerly, uncomfortable with the bobbing that resulted when she stepped inside.  Renée, for her part, seemed to hop right in, unperturbed by being off-balance. She leaned back and turned to Patty as she grabbed her hand, the sun glinting off the mirrored lenses of her sunglasses like some badass TV detective. “Ready to have some fun?” 

Fun is for people with disposable income. Patty knew Renée had that in spades. Of course she was ready. “I guess.” Patty eyed their vessel warily.

“You can't possibly be afraid of a paddle boat.”

“Water's not my thing.”

“Mhm,” Renée said, as she worked her way through the knot tying the boat to the dock.

“It's not.”

“Oh, that reminds me. It’s almost noon, and I let you wander around all morning without getting in your way. Did you talk to Allison?”

“Jesus, what are you . . .”

Renée pointed to the shore, close to where the dock began. “Because there she is, all alone. I hear she's great in the water.” Patty glared at Renée and looked over at Allison, who stood there, scanning the lake, her hair up, dressed in a colorful wrap, which showed more leg than Patty was used to seeing, and flat sandals. “Hey! Allison!” Renée shouted, prompting an additional dirty look. 

Allison hesitated, and looked around, but there was no one and nothing to distract her, so she approached, cautiously. She looked at Renée only. “Oh, uh, hi.”

Renée hopped up suddenly, throwing off the balance of the boat, leading Patty to grip the sides tightly, her knuckles whitening. "You know what, I gotta go take a work call, I probably don’t have time for this. Why don’t you join Patty here?”

Allison looked around, still not meeting Patty’s eye. “Oh, um, I, uh, Molly was . . .”

Renée was already out of the boat.  “Tell ya what, I’ll stick around and let her know. Her and I can catch up with the group when we get a chance.”

Allison, as if she realized she couldn’t get in without Patty’s permission, looked at her, then, her eyes frightened, reminding Patty of the night she approached the steps outside the burnt-down house. Like she didn’t know what punishment she deserved. Allison shook her head. “Oh. No, no, I shouldn’t.”

“Don't be stupid,” Patty said.

“Stupid?” Allison said, as though there were several meanings.

“Get in,” Patty said, more gruffly than maybe she intended, and Allison's lips twitched ever so slightly, like she wanted to smile but thought better of it. She scrambled in, stumbling slightly and catching herself as she almost tipped forward onto Patty.  The fear in her eyes returned and she hastily sat down and looked away.

Renée smirked at Patty and Patty rolled her eyes, just as Allison glanced back, very clearly thinking the eye roll was for her. Suddenly, the fear in Allison's face turned to anger, and Allison stared at Patty in a way that Patty had not expected, and had no response to. 

Renée's voice punctuated the awkward silence. “Have fun, you two. Great time to catch up!” She gave a quick wave and jogged away, pulling out her phone. Patty was pretty sure she didn't have anything to do for work. She had promised she wouldn't. 

Patty wanted to grumble, but the day was beautiful—sunny, not too warm, the light was sparkling on the surface of the lake. “I'm sorry,” she said, through her teeth. Allison's head swiveled from her stare out towards the far side of the lake.

“For what?”

“Renée basically dragged you in here.”

“What?”

Patty realized Allison would have no reason to believe Renée was trying to push them together. And Patty wasn't sure whether it was such a great idea to share that.

“Never mind.”

Allison's mouth twitched and they sat there, both looking out into the distance, for longer than was natural.

Then Allison, without saying anything, put her feet on the pedals and began to slowly get them moving. Patty, jolted from her daze, reached for the steering handle, only to bump her hand into Allison's, and withdraw it just as quickly.

“No, no, you steer,” Allison said. Whether she had turned to look at Patty was unclear, because Patty made no eye contact. Patty thought she heard mumbling involving “sense of direction,” but she could just as easily have imagined it.

So Patty took the handle, and Allison started to pedal. Patty did her best to find her footing and join in. “We're off like a herd of turtles,” she said, mostly to herself. But then she heard the most inexplicable thing. A smile came unbidden to her face. 

Allison was laughing.

Patty looked over, and it was unmistakable. She was laughing—and that crooked smile went up one side of her face and . . . Patty wasn't sure she'd seen something so reassuring in a long, long time. She let herself smile at Allison. “What?” she asked, without her usual bite.

“I said that.”

“Yeah.”

“You know?”

“As we left for Vermont.”

“But how do you remember?”

Patty couldn’t help but roll her eyes a little. “The same way you do, I imagine,” she said.

Allison looked confused, but her smile remained. “Hey. I—” she paused, like she rethought what she wanted to say. “I was surprised to see you here.”

“As surprised as I was to have been asked.”

“Oh.”

“I see Diane some, but . . . “

“Okay, because I was wondering—” They spoke at the same time.

“Sorry,” Patty said.

“Do you think she—” Allison stopped again.

“Think she what?”

“Never mind.”

“Okay.” Patty wished Allison wouldn’t do that.

“I'm gl—I’ve been so out of the loop lately, I don't even know who Diane's friends are anymore. Or who yours—” Allison stopped abruptly—it seemed to be a pattern.

“Mine are?” Patty finished for her.  

“Yeah.”

“Didn't know you cared much.”

“Of course I do, you're the one who—” Again, no conclusion.

“—who can actually finish a damn sentence?”

Allison looked hurt, but her mouth was clamped shut for a moment, before she said. “You're the one who told me to go.”

“I told you to get a life. I didn’t tell you never to talk to me again.” Patty pushed her feet harder against the pedals, and a little yelp sounded from Allison, whose sandal had gotten caught. She recovered, stifling any reaction to what must have bruised her foot.

“Well maybe if you hadn’t avoided me for weeks, I’d have understood what you meant.”

“Avoided you?”

“You were never home. I came by!”

Patty frowned. “You did? When?”

“To do my laundry.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit.”

“I went through your apartment."

Patty was silent.

"Hey—I’m—I always—” Allison stopped again.

“Can you ever just finish a fucking sentence?” Patty couldn't handle all these dropped thoughts. It was like their entire relationship had become an unfinished sentence.

“I wanted to see you.” Allison said it, matter-of-factly, as if it took no effort to say.

Oh.

“But I guess you didn’t.”

Patty looked away. Was that true? She had been avoiding Allison. There was no doubt about it. But had she really not wanted to see her? Or was she just . . .

With no response, Allison seemed to retreat into herself, taking up as little space as possible. Her feet still pedaling, but her arms pulled inward, her face down. 

“I’m seeing you now, aren’t I?” Patty couldn’t handle it. She hated this scared version of Allison, even more than she hated the naggy ficus.

Allison still looked down. “Because you have to.”

Patty let that one linger, but she couldn’t not respond. “Seriously, Allison?” She wanted to provoke her, to make her angry. She wanted the fear to be forgotten. She loathed it.

“What?” Allison’s sharp look got part of the way there.

“You think I’m here because I have to be?”

“Diane asked you to be a bridesmaid, obviously.”

“And if I really hated you so damn much, I could’ve said no.” Patty paused. “I could’ve said ‘screw it,’ and stayed home.”

Allison was quiet.

“You know I don't do things to be nice.”

Allison looked up, a half smile starting to spread.

“I don’t hate you.” Patty could admit that much.

“I didn’t say—”

“Well then stop acting like I said I never wanted to see you again. I never said that. I didn’t.”

Patty crossed her arms, but then realized the boat swerved weirdly. Her hand flew back to maintain its spot on the handle.

Allison, seemingly oblivious to the disruption of their course, said quietly. “Do you think . . .” she hesitated, as if forming the words. “I need your help.”

Of course she did. “With what?”

“I um . . . there’s this job.”

“Uh huh.” Patty knew where this was going. And she didn’t want to go there.

“I need you to um . . . lie for me.”

“Allison.”

“I hate to do this Patty, I know I always ask you for things, but—”

“No, Allison, I—Renée told me.”

“Oh, good.” Allison’s face looked visibly relieved.

“But she uh—told me right after I got off the phone telling the guy all about your spiritual journey hiking the Appalachian trail.”

“What? Patty! He’s a—”

“I know! I thought he was a reporter. So sue me! A little warning would’ve been nice.”

Allison sighed. “I know. I didn’t think—I didn’t think they’d check. Or maybe I just didn’t think I’d get this far.” Allison sighed. “Point is, I didn’t think at all.”

“What else is new?” Patty said, with more sarcasm than she intended. 

Allison was quiet for a minute. Patty started to regret her comment. The regular swash of the rudder in the water sounded. Patty could see that the other groups were out ahead of them, close to the far side of the lake, where they were to have a picnic. Patty figured she could handle the silence for long enough to just get there. Not that it would be all the pleasant being there, with her social armor deciding to abandon her for this, a doomed opportunity from the start.

Allison’s voice broke the rhythm of the pedals. “Renée said she knew the guy who did the background check.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think . . .”

Patty was waiting for it. Could Patty ask Renée to help her out? Maybe call in a favor? Isn't that what girlfriends do? Would Allison ever get over herself?

“Do you think if I could somehow . . . correct his report . . . do you think?”

“You mean maybe I could ask my girlfriend to help you this once?” It felt weird to say girlfriend.

Allison, who had—did she shudder?—when Patty said girlfriend, looked appalled. “No! She knows who he is, where his office is, I thought maybe I could, you know, sneak into his office and find the report and maybe just tweak—”

“Are you crazy?”

“Patty. I broke into city hall and stole a death certificate. No. We did that. This isn’t even in the same league.”

“But you—”

“But I what?”

“Oh.” Patty realized she was going to say that Allison was normal again. Unbroken. Okay. The kind of person who got hired as a flight attendant. Buttoned up. Responsible. Who dated fancy guys that took her to Paris. Why would she want to risk all that?

“I need to fix this, okay? It’s not just about the job—it’s—I don’t know what kind of trouble I could get into.”

“Oh, come on. It’s a background check, not a police report.”

“I don’t know! Maybe there’s some kind of national security thing! I don’t know!”

“Calm down, Allison. You’re not going to be locked in a dungeon because I said you were backpacking. You did go for a hike."

“You don’t know what Sam said.” Allison's tone sounded ominous.

“Jesus. What did Sam say?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s hopeless. I bet it’s all on this guy's computer. I bet he’s got like a dozen security cameras, super secure passwords—he’s a PI, after all.”

“Now, Allison, I don’t think—”

“But maybe if I could just—”

“What are you . . . ? Allison.”

“Hey!" Allison's face lit up like she had an idea. "Has he ever seen you?”

“What?” Patty was starting to get afraid. “No. No way.”

“He definitely has my picture. And he knows Renée already. But maybe if you could—maybe you could distract him, while I—?”

“No. No. Absolutely not.”

“You’re the one who told him some made-up—”

“Don’t give me that, Allison. You’re the one who didn’t warn me.”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll figure out a way to do it myself.” Allison gave a little sniff and started to pedal harder. Eventually, Patty couldn’t keep up and just pulled her feet back. Allison’s face was set and determined, and she stared at Patty’s feet as though they were causing the boat to slow down.

“It’s not going to go any faster. It’s a fucking paddle boat.”

“Well, it certainly would go a little faster if I weren’t the only one pedaling.”

“I’m sure it would be easier if I weren't here at all.”

Allison was pissed. "Honestly, I think I’d make it over there faster if I just swam over myself.”

“Don’t be silly.”

Allison huffed. “I’m a champion swimmer.”

“Yeah, in high school.”

“Well, I’ve been swimming lately, so, no, I can still do it.”

“Sure.”

“You wanna bet?”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“What else is new, right?”

Suddenly, Allison undid her wrap, leaving only a two piece suit underneath, kicked off her sandals, stood up, nearly tipping the boat, and heaved herself semi-gracefully into the water, going under and then coming up, sputtering, raising an eyebrow at Patty before turning, with a kick off the side of the boat, and heading off towards the shore. Patty looked down at the colorful wrap and sandals with chagrin. She swore the boat was listing slightly to her side.

Jesus, Allison.

She tried not to watch Allison move towards the shore as she started pedaling again.

—

As Patty pulled up to the dock several minutes later, she looked around for Allison, but didn’t see her. Shit. Diane and Billy approached.

“You see Allison?” Patty asked, trying not to sound alarmed.

“Oh, um,” Diane turned to Billy, who shook his head, “No. Did she come over?” 

Patty grabbed the wrap and sandals out of the bottom of the boat. “No idea,” she said quickly, as she started down the beach towards a stand of trees that appeared to be the shortest distance from where Allison decided to get out and swim. She picked up her pace as she heard “Where ya going? Lunch soon!” behind her from Diane.

As Patty approached the taller grass that led into the grove, she thought she heard a sniffling. A few steps later, there was Allison, sitting in the shaded grass, her knees pulled up to her chest, dripping and shivering.

“Allison?”

She picked up her head and looked over. “Oh. Patty.”

“What the hell, Allison?”

“I made it.”

“Yeah, and you’re freezing.”

“No. I’m just a little chilly.” Her teeth were audibly clicking as she shrugged nonchalantly.

“Oh for god’s sake, Allison. I brought your wrap.” Patty held it out.

Allison hesitated, but then gingerly got up, giving Patty a better view of her in the pink and blue swimsuit that Patty hadn't fully registered earlier. Jesus Christ, she had been swimming lately. Before Patty could stare too long, Allison had twisted the wrap around her, her arms, legs, and hair still dripping wet. Patty tossed her sandals on the ground in front of her.

“Thanks,” Allison said, wiping off her feet in the grass and slipping them into the sandals. She undid her hair from its messy bun and twisted it to wring it out. Patty winced.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Allison pursed her lips.

“No one knew you were out there. I can barely swim. That was incredibly stupid.”

“I was fine.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Yes, I was. I’m like, certified.”

“Yeah, certifiable.”

Allison was about to respond, but then she started laughing. A little at first, and just that slightest hint of a smile, but then it grew louder, like she couldn’t control herself. But it wasn’t joyful. It was disturbing.

“What is it, now?” Patty asked, carefully.

“Isn’t it funny?” Allison’s eyes looked a little crazed.

“Isn’t what funny?”

“I—magically—” Allison snapped her fingers, “—get rid of the biggest pain in my ass and yet—I can’t seem to get my life together. There it all was, handed to me on a plate, and—this. This is what I make of it.” She indicated her surroundings. 

Patty looked around—the sun, the breeze rustling in the trees, the wind on the surface of the water—it was a pretty nice little spot, all told. But somehow she didn't think that was what Allison meant. “Oh come on.”

“No, really, Patty. I had everything I wanted, and what did I do with it?”

“Everything you wanted? Your husband died. You didn’t win the fucking lottery.”

“Yes. I did,” Allison said, her head down. 

“Get serious.”

“Well, maybe you didn’t think so. But I did.” Allison shrugged and walked past her, back towards the group.

—

When Patty got back, Renée and Molly were pulling up on the dock.

“Oh, took you forever for that work call,” Patty hissed at her.

Renée smirked. “I had a nice chat with Molly.”

“Great. Why did you do that?”

“Didn’t have a good time?” There was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

“I—” Patty realized that nothing bad had actually happened. But she was confused, to say the least.

Renée didn’t miss her hesitation. “So maybe we’ve made some progress?”

“We?”

“I certainly did my part.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I try.” When Patty didn’t immediately answer, Renée’s voice softened. “Was it—did you get to talk? I know I joke, but I’m serious.” Renée was saying all this as she stood next to Patty, arm in arm, her mouth close to Patty’s ear. 

Patty could see Allison standing at the covered picnic area looking over at them. Molly approached her, but she still looked towards Patty and Renée, until Molly waved a hand in front of her face.

“Patty?” Renée realized she had been distracted, and then, as Renée looked across, “Oh. I see.”

“Jesus, it’s not that big a deal. We pedaled over, Allison jumped in and swam half way, and now, here we are.”

“She what? ”

“She’s unhinged.”

“We’ve established that you like that about her.”

“Oh stop it.”

“She swam in that wrap?”

“No, she took—”

Renée smiled, very wide, but managed not to laugh.

“Oh, seriously. Shut up.”

“So I think a few points for me. I’m keeping track.”

“Of course you are.”

“Jesus, it looks like she’s shivering. You didn’t even offer her your flannel?”

“Then what would I wear?”

“Turnabout is fair play.”

Patty rolled her eyes, and yanked Renée towards the picnic area. She tried to ignore the laughter.

—

All through the inane discussions over soggy lunch meat sandwiches (provided by Benny’s!), Patty was lost in her own head. Even with Renée twirling a finger around her hair (largely unnecessary, because Allison had been looking at them the whole time anyway), Patty could only think about what Allison had said. She had “everything” she wanted. Like what? Clearly she didn’t think she had it anymore.

“Renée?”

“Yes, honey?” she answered, earning another eye roll.

“You don’t have to call me that.”

“I want to.”

“To annoy me.”

“That doesn’t hurt.”

“Never mind, then.”

“No, no. What?”

“Did Allison come into a lot of money, or something, when Kevin died?”

Renée’s finger stopped with the hair. “What?”

“Did he have some secret stash or something? Or like, some great life insurance? Or did she inherit some valuable property?”

“No. Not at all. Why would you think that?”

“Something she said. Something like she won the lottery when Kevin died, but now here she is.”

Renée’s mouth twisted in doubt. She shook her head. “Nothing I can think of. Mostly, all she got was a little money that paid off his debts. I’d say she spent anything left over on my help, but I ended up not taking my full fee. So maybe a few hundred dollars.”

“That wouldn’t amount to much.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” Renée went back to stroking her hair, earning her another glare. “Are you sure she wasn’t talking metaphorically?”

“Metaphorically? Allison?”

“She likes to read, right?”

Patty’s scoff was more audible than she intended.

“Maybe she just meant that she was happy. That she thought she had it good.”

“Happy about what?”

“What was there to be unhappy about?”

Patty thought back to the day Allison came home. To the feeling of bringing her inside the house, of her making a home there in Patty’s apartment until they cleaned out Neil’s. 

She remembered sitting on the couch on that first night, after watching Allison uncharacteristically wolf down a pizza. There Patty was, half turned towards Allison, receiving from her such a smile that Patty didn’t know what to do with it. She almost thought that Allison must be so traumatized that she didn’t even know where she was. But then Allison had looked Patty in the eye and said—

“God, I missed you.” 

Patty knew Allison had said it already, once. She didn’t need to say it again. Patty knew. 

Then Allison had laid her head down in Patty’s lap and sighed. She was asleep almost instantly. Patty couldn’t help but play with Allison’s hair, softly, almost in disbelief that she was really there. Before Patty had woken her up, to help her in to Patty’s bed for the night, Allison had awoken on her own, looking up at Patty, and smiling, taking her hand that had been playing with her hair, and giving it a squeeze . . . 

“Patty?” Renée’s voice broke through the memory. “You want dessert? I’m going to grab a cookie.”

“A cookie?”

“Benny has some big spread over there with, like a pyramid of cookies. Looked kinda good.”

“Since when do you eat cookies?”

“Fine. Whatever. I’m not getting you one.” Renée stuck her tongue out. As Patty smirked, she caught Allison staring at them again. Catching Patty’s eye in return, Allison walked towards her. 

Given where Patty’s thoughts had just been, she was afraid of what Allison might have read on her face. 

But all Allison said when she got there was “she’s great, isn’t she?” as she looked after Renée.

Patty’s mouth tightened. She nodded, slightly.

“Hmm,” Allison said, and shifted to walk away, when Patty’s hand shot out and grabbed Allison’s wrist. Allison pulled it away, but Patty’s hand tightened.

“Fine. I’ll help you,” Patty said, and Allison stared at her, wide-eyed, and then down at her wrist. “I make no promises about how much help I’ll actually be. But whatever it is. I’ll do it.”

“What?” Allison looked genuinely confused, and looked down at her sandals before Patty could respond.

Patty dropped her hand. “You know, this PI guy, this background check. What do we gotta do?” Patty knew this was all a terrible idea. But she hadn’t agreed to a terrible idea in a long time. And she missed it.

After a beat, Allison looked up, eyes glistening and hopeful, her mouth turned up in a lopsided smile.

Patty bit her lip, hating the way her body reacted to that silly grin. 

There was no way this was going to end well.

Chapter Text

“Come on, come on,” Allison hurried Patty along the sidewalk towards the private investigator’s office. 

“Are you sure Diane isn’t gonna be pissed?” Despite agreeing to “do whatever,” Patty had not been very agreeable. And for someone who claimed to barely be friends with Diane, she sure seemed to worry about what Diane thought.

“Renée said she’d make excuses for us, don’t you trust her?” Allison asked, slowing her stride to face Patty. They had left in the middle of a food tasting, sponsored, once again, by Benny’s. No one was missing them. Renée and Molly were much better company, anyway.

Patty hesitated before answering. “She agreed to cover for us going to talk to him. Not for sneaking into his office and stealing his files.”

“It’s practically the same thing.”

The skeptical look Patty gave her was perhaps well-deserved, but Allison couldn’t think about that right now. 

“Anyway, do you have your earpiece?”

“You mean the AirPod?” Patty asked, rolling her eyes.

Allison returned the expression. “What am I, an international spy?”

Patty stopped. “Won’t it look suspicious to have this in my ear? Or rude?”

“You are rude.” Allison pulled at her arm to keep them walking.

“Shut up,” Patty replied, letting herself be dragged along a step behind Allison’s long, quick stride.

Allison smiled. Patty could be counted on to prove her point. And when Allison looked back to see if she still had any goodwill to spare, she even got a small smile of acknowledgement. Allison slowed again so that they could walk together. “It doesn’t matter if he thinks you’re weird or rude or whatever. All we need is for you to be in there and figure out a way to get him to leave the office with you, so that I can sneak in. Then, when he leaves for the day, I can let you in from the inside, or, worst case, you come back for me tomorrow.”

Patty stopped again. “That’s the part I’m worried about.”

Allison stopped and turned, a few feet in front. “Why?”

“I don’t want you to be stuck in there all night.” Patty looked sincere, but she was looking away, her eyes were focused across the street.

“Would you rather do my part?”

“We can't switch, he knows who you are.”

“He might not remember what I look like from a background check.” It was possible. Maybe the picture had different hair. Her hair was up today. He'd have no reason to suspect . . .

Patty’s face soured at the idea. She kept walking, moving past Allison briskly. “Fine, whatever, we just stick with the plan the way it is.” She spoke over her shoulder. “And you’ll let me back in after he leaves so you won’t be alone. But I still don’t know how we get away with this without having it all recorded.”

Allison threw her hands up in the air. “Maybe it will be. But he won’t know to look because there won’t be anything wrong. We will disturb as little as possible.” Allison smiled to herself at Patty’s apparent concern that she would be left alone all night. Maybe she didn’t hate her, after all. She was here, wasn’t she?

As they approached, Allison and Patty split up, with Allison headed across the street to sit in the window of the coffee shop. It was as fool-proof a plan as she could manage on short notice. It was low-stakes. It didn’t involve any unhinged third parties. She put her own earbud in and called Patty. “You hear me?”

“Yes,” she could hear Patty mutter. “Is this loud enough?”

“Yep,” Allison said, glad to know at least this aspect would work. 

Allison could hear Patty enter the office, but once inside, she could no longer see her. “Come on in,” a male voice said, presumably Tim Mulligan, Private Investigator. “How can I help you?”

“I can’t hear him very well, can you get as close as possible?” Allison heard a chair screech across the floor as Patty began to speak.

“I um, I uh, need to uh, track my um my…” Patty spoke quickly and sounded like she forgot the story they had come up with.

“Your—girlfriend—” the man began to offer. Well, thought Allison, he’s a perceptive guy. 

“Okay, I can hear him,” Allison added.

“My boyfriend, I mean, fiancé,” Patty finished, with emphasis. Allison breathed a sigh of relief. It was a stupid cover story, but it didn’t need to be a good one.

“Ah. Of course. Oh. I didn't get your name.” The guy sounded fairly young. For some reason she had imagined some old grizzled dude, left over from an earlier era. Or at the very least, someone more like Billy.

“Oh, um, uh, Gertrude.” 

What the hell?! “Patty!” That was not the name they discussed.

“Gertrude?” The man sounded interested.

An awkward pause followed. Then Patty said, “Um, yes, chair, um, Cherr-y Gertrude.” Oh, great save. Maybe Patty did hate her after all. Why couldn’t she just use the name they discussed? The one Patty made up?

“Well, Cherry, um—is that a nickname?”

“No!” Patty sounded on edge. Allison started to bite at her fingernails, and could hear her mother scolding her in her head. Why did this have to be one of the times Patty was nervous? Why couldn’t this be one of the times she was completely cool?

“Okay, okay, Ms. Gertrude.” The investigator’s voice was unperturbed, and Allison hoped he believed Patty’s nerves were reasonable under the circumstances.

“I prefer Cherry.” Jesus Christ.

“Mhm. So, your boyfriend. What's the situation?”

“Well, he, um, he's—” 

“Is there another woman?”

“Yep!” Patty sounded entirely too chipper. 

“Maybe you should sound upset?” Allison chimed in, to which Patty made a groaning noise.

“And is this . . . upsetting?” Well at least the P.I. was in agreement. 

“Yes. Yes, of course. Terrible.” Patty sounded annoyed. Probably more towards Allison than her fake boyfriend, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Mhm. And, do you have a reason that you think so? Any leads?”

“Well, um, I think he, um, goes to see her at, um Tricky Ricky's.” 

Allison scoffed. “Seriously, Patty? That's what you choose?  What happened to the rest of our story?” 

“You're not help-ing,” Patty said, sing-song, under her breath. 

“What was that?” The P.I. asked. Fuck.

“Oh. I'm just thinking maybe this isn't helping.” Okay, okay, Patty was quick with that one.

“I'm sure it is. Don’t you worry.” He sounded hopeful. “Actually, you know, I have to make a call before seven. Do you mind if I—I'll just step into the back file room?” Allison could hear his chair moving, and then a door shut.

After a moment, Patty spoke up, her voice still a whisper, but urgent. “Now! Get in here now,” Patty said, and Allison could hear her teeth gritting, but she was already on the move, halfway across the street, doing her best to dodge traffic. 

Patty met her at the door, which buzzed as she opened it. “Quick,” Patty said, “that closet over there,” she motioned to it. “It looks like it's full of coats, but it's summer, so there’s no reason to use it. Keep the door cracked.”

Allison went over and made her way through a closet with what seemed like an unusual number of trench coats, pulling the door almost shut behind her. She could see a sliver of light, but from her spot at the back, there was no view of anything else. It was oddly warm and smelled of cedar. She tried to rearrange herself, but she froze in place as she heard the man return to the room. There was a rustling of papers and she could hear his chair rolling out and a squeak when it swiveled.

He cleared his throat. “I heard the bell. Did someone come in?”

“I went for a smoke break,” Patty said with a nonchalance she hadn’t had earlier.

“Back awfully quick?”

Patty coughed. “Changed my mind. Heard it's bad for you. “

“Mhm.” Allison could hear a slight laugh from the P.I. So he had a sense of humor. “Where were we? Your boyfriend is seeing someone at Tricky Ricky's. So, tell me a little more.”

Patty’s chair screeched against the floor again as she shifted her weight back to stand up. “You know what? I'm not sure I want to do this,” she said rather decisively.

“You aren’t?” 

“No, I'm sure it's all a misunderstanding. You know, communication.” She coughed. “It’s what we really need. Not someone snooping around.”

“It is?” He sounded skeptical.

“Yep.” Allison could practically hear Patty inspecting her nails. 

“Okay, well, let me know if you change your mind.”

“I'd better get going. Doubt I’ll change my mind.”

“You seem very sure.” There was an awkward pause, when the detective spoke again. “Well, look at that, it’s about time for me to head home. I can walk you out. It’s been nice to meet you Ms. . . . Gertrude.”

“Cherry.” Allison bit her tongue to stifle her snort of laughter.

“Of course. I'll just grab my jacket.”

Allison could hear Patty’s intake of breath, and she held her own, trying to make herself as small as possible in the back of the closet as she heard the P.I.’s steps approach.

He stopped.

“What am I thinking, it must be eighty degrees out there!” he said, cheerfully, slapping the closet door like the back of an old friend. Allison did her best not to sigh with relief.

“Yeah. Silly,” Patty said, and Allison could feel the tension in her words.

As Allison heard them walk towards the door, she inched forward, getting a deep breath of air, and tried to see how he locked up. From what she could tell, he simply turned a deadbolt. She waited a minute and then called Patty, who picked up right away.

“I didn't see him set an alarm,” Allison said.

“Me neither.”

“Ok, good. Let me know when he’s out of sight.”

“I went across the street to the coffee shop. He walked down to the parking lot and got into a red jeep.”

Allison paused for a second, and then shook off the feeling of déjà vu. “Okay, okay, I'll come let you in.”

Allison gingerly stepped out of the closet and went to the door, which had a window blind where she could see Patty approach. She flipped the lock and opened the door.

As Patty stepped in, Allison had a sudden realization. “Shit. We won’t be able to lock the deadbolt when we leave.”

“Maybe there’s another set of keys?” 

Allison's heart sank as she shut and locked the door behind Patty. “Or maybe this was a stupid idea.”

“Of course this was a stupid idea.”

Allison frowned. She thought Patty had changed her mind. “Then why are you here?” she asked, trying to keep the emotion from her voice, and failing.

“Better than you doing this alone.”

“Is it? I’m just throwing you into harm’s way, too.”

“Well I’d rather—” Patty looked down.

“What?”

“Never mind.” 

“Who can’t finish their sentences this time?”

“Let’s find this shit and get out of here. What are we looking for?”

“I don’t know, something with my name on it. That looks like a background check.”

“What the fuck does that look like?”

“How should I know?”

“Helpful.”

“Well I found a death certificate, didn’t I? How hard could this be?”

“Won’t it be on his computer?”

“He probably has to send it in, right? And maybe he has notes.”

“This all seems like it could lead to nowhere.”

“Fine, then. Leave.”

“No, I’m here now.”

“Leave. I don’t want you here.” Allison turned away. “You did what I needed you to do. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Shut up. I’ll check the file room. He went back there earlier.”

As Patty disappeared in the backroom, Allison smiled. “Okay, I’ll look in the filing cabinet by the desk.”

—

“I found it!” Allison was staring down at the desk, a folder with her name on it, forms clipped on the inside that looked to be printed out, a handful of notes scattered inside. It was sitting there in plain view, right on top.

“What?” Patty came in, a worried look on her face.

“Wait, what’s wrong? Did you find something, too?”

“Oh, um, no.” Patty said, looking at the floor. “What did you find?”

Too preoccupied with her own discovery, she waved Patty over and began to go through the notes. There appeared to be a few separate sets, but Allison couldn’t for the life of her figure out what they said. Was it in code? “What the fuck is this? Some foreign language?”

“It’s shorthand.” Patty said, simply. 

“What?”

“It’s like, for, like, 1950s secretaries.”

“How do you know that?”

“I dunno, I just do.”

“So what does it say?”

“I don’t know shorthand. Do I look like I was plucked outta Mad Men?”

“Then how do you know it’s—” Allison took a deep breath. “Whatever, hold on, let me look at the form. It looks like he’s filled it out.”  Allison perused the background check form, which had been signed on the last page, Timothy Mulligan. Everything looked incredibly standard. She couldn’t find any problems. “How is this possible?” she said, to herself.

“How is what possible?”

“There’s nothing wrong here. He’s filled it out as if I had a completely clean record. Nothing wrong whatsoever.”

“Well, don’t you?”

“I mean, technically, maybe.”

“Well then?”

“But he must have gotten three different stories from three different people. I’m completely suspicious!”

“Maybe he did his own research.”

“Or maybe he’s shirking his job.”

“Great! We can go, then.”

“But how? Why? I gotta figure this out.”

“Does it matter? You get what you want, right?”

“I wonder what his notes say . . .”

“Allison.”

“Well maybe we can take them with us. Just find out. Then bring them back.”

“Allison. He’ll know if they aren’t there.”

“Or we can take pictures.”

“That’s—actually that’s not a bad idea.” Patty looked almost stunned. Thanks a lot.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Hey—I’ve told you that you’re not a—” Patty stopped.

“Not a what?”

“Not a screw-up.” 

Allison remembered. The same situation. The death certificate. Patty standing in the middle of city hall, saying—what was she saying, again? I’ve been here, standing next to you. She had been then. But she wasn’t standing next to her anymore. Or was she? Allison looked over. “Thank you,” she said, quietly. 

Patty just nodded and looked away again. 

As Allison took out her phone to take pictures of the shorthand notes, Patty stood, leaning against the desk. Allison could feel her eyes, and wondered why she was just, well, watching. “Guess you got lucky for once,” Allison heard her say. 

Allison snapped a picture of the last sheet, and put them all back in the folder, and placed it on the desk where she had found them. “For once?”

“You’ve had your share of shitty luck.”

“And more good luck than I’ve deserved.”

“Nah.”

“What do you call Kevin—well, that? Or Tammy just deciding to let it all go?”

“Wait, hold on—”

Just as the words were out of Patty’s mouth, the sound of the key in the door made them freeze. “Shit!” Allison said, in an urgent whisper. She looked down and saw that the space under the desk was covered. “Under here!” She grabbed Patty’s arm and dragged her under the desk, pulling her nearly on top of her. They just barely fit, squeezed together, limbs pressed each other in an odd configuration. As they sat as still as they could, Allison heard the door open and the bell sounded.

Allison attempted to listen further, but her breathing and heartbeat seemed to drown out all further noise. She felt Patty’s arm wrapped around her thigh in an attempt to take up as little space as possible (and possibly to keep from falling over). But it was . . . distracting. And then there was a loud click, and she could feel Patty’s grip tighten, right above the inside of her knee. If her breath was loud before, she knew there was no way that it couldn’t be heard now.

A beep cut through the sounds of her own breathing. What was that? Followed by a robot-like female voice. “Alarm activated.”

The bell sounded and the door shut again, and they could hear the key turn, and the deadbolt flip.

Allison wanted to ask Patty if she heard what she thought she heard, but she was afraid to cut the silence. Her heartbeat was even faster now, and Patty’s grip had not loosened.

Time ticked away, and there were no sounds from the door, nothing throughout the office, not even the hum of electricity or an air vent. Patty’s hand loosened its grip on Allison’s leg, slowly, but her fingers remained, spread out on the thin fabric of the leggings Allison had put on this afternoon, in some futile attempt to mimic the stealth of a cat burglar. She wished she had worn jeans. 

“Allison?” Patty said, her voice low and questioning.

“What?” Patty’s hand was still there, and Allison was unsure whether she wanted it to be gone, or to stay there. Or move downward so that—

“I think you can, um, let go.”

“Huh?”

“Your arm.”

It was then that Allison realized her own arm was wrapped around the back of Patty’s waist, her fingers curled around in front gripping the other side of Patty’s flannel. She could feel Patty’s own breathing, erratic though her voice was steady.  “Oh. Oh. I’m sorry.” How had she not noticed?

“You can let go,” Patty repeated.

“Right, right,” Allison said, letting the fabric pass through her fingers and trying, unsuccessfully, not to let her hand graze Patty’s abdomen. Allison could feel a sharp intake of breath, and she finished pulling her hand away quickly, simultaneously pulling her knees further toward her chest, and away from Patty’s hand. But she miscalculated, and instead of avoiding Patty’s hand, it first slid further down her thigh. Jumping up, she hit her head on the desk, “Fuck!”

Patty, for her part, was scampering out from under the desk, and by the time Allison emerged, her hand rubbing her head, Patty was across the room, avoiding eye contact.

Allison looked at the door. A few feet to the left was a little box, now blinking green. “What do we do now?”

Patty whipped her head around. “I didn’t do that on purpose! You moved—”

“I meant about the alarm.”

“Oh.”

“Did you see what the code was?”

“How was I supposed to—?”

“You were on the outside.”

“You had me in a vice grip.”

“Well, we had to stay hidden.”

Patty cleared her throat. “Mhm.” She played with the collar of her shirt.

“And anyway, you had your hand—” Allison shut up. She would pretend she didn’t notice. There was no reason to go there. “You had a hand in, uh, getting us into this spot, too.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I guess we just have to, uh, wait for morning.”

“Great.”

“If we sneak in the closet before he gets in, we’ll probably have an opportunity to leave at some point in the morning, right?”

“Sure.” Patty didn’t sound convinced.

“It’s the best I can do.”

Patty scoffed.

“You have a better idea?”

“No.”

“Well then.”

“Fine.”

Allison sat down in the desk chair and motioned for Patty to sit down.

Patty pursed her lips. “How come you get the nice chair?”

“I got here first.”

“Whatever.”

“You have any playing cards?” Allison needed some kind of distraction, her mind kept returning to the underside of the desk, which was right there, at her feet . . . 

“Oh, yeah, sure, let me just reach into my pocket here—”

Allison rolled her eyes, but god, she missed this. Missed bickering. Missed them, together. She let out a sound, not quite a laugh, which, in the silence, caught Patty’s attention.

“What?” Patty said, elaborately adjusting the guest chair to show her discomfort.

“I just—I missed this.”

“What, the life of crime?”

“No. Well, a little. No, I meant, um, hanging out with you.”

The light in the room was dim, emanating from a what appeared to be back-up lighting in one corner. But was Patty blushing? “I didn’t go anywhere.”

Allison sighed. “But you did.”

“I went on one date and you freaked out about it.”

“You lied to me.”

“How did you even know—”

“Renée asked me.”

“Asked you what? To stay away?”

“No no no. Before she asked you out, she wanted to know if I was okay with it.”

“And then she asked me out anyway?”

“What, no! I said it was fine.”

“Sure didn’t act like it.”

“After she asked, the night you were out, Renée asked me to wish her luck. It caught me off guard, because you never said a word. Then I called and you told me you were reorganizing your goddamn makeup!”

“But—”

“You just flat out lied.”

“I—”

“Why?” Allison wished she knew. She herself had done enough wrong. But she didn’t understand why Patty had kept it from her.

Patty paused. “I don’t know. I guess I thought you’d be weird about it.”

“But why?”

“You were weird about it.”

“But you—” Allison was going to repeat the fact that Patty had lied, but she didn’t know that she would’ve reacted any better if Patty had told her outright. What was the point? Was she even still mad about it? It was long past, Patty and Renée were an established pair and there was nothing that could be done but move forward. “I’m sorry.”

Patty looked surprised. “What?”

“You’re right.”

“I am?”

“When Renée asked me, I was all messed up about it. I didn’t even know it. You must’ve thought I was deranged.”

“When—”

“The night I—the last night I stayed over—” Allison had thought about that night repeatedly. Maybe if she had done something differently, then things would be different, but—  It was too late now.

“Oh,” was all Patty said, although several emotions seemed to pass through her features, one by one. 

“Do you know the night—?”

“I know,” Patty said, firmly, leaving no doubt.

“Then you know how fucked up I was.” Allison thought about the way she acted, and she saw in her own actions exactly what Ty had done to her. Only, unlike Ty, she had been lying to herself, she didn’t even know she was doing it. Or she had been oblivious—what difference did it make? The result was the same. It was just that Patty knew better than to give in when things could go nowhere. Should go nowhere. Unlike Allison, Patty had some semblance of self control.

Patty looked down. “I didn’t realize . . .”

“So you just thought that’s how I always was?

Patty looked like she wanted to say something, but she thought better of it. Allison waited to hear more, but nothing else came.

“Well, anyway, I’m sorry. If I was weird then. If I was always weird. There’s no one I can think of who’d be better than Renée. I—she’s great. You’re great. Together. I saw that, I see it now. I just—I miss this.”

Patty sighed. “I’m still here.”

Allison looked up, and smiled, as much as she could muster. “Yeah. You said that.” She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she started pulling at the desk drawers, until she spotted something. No. 92 Club Special. She looked up again at Patty, her smile growing wider.

“What now?”

“Must get dull in here. He has a pack of cards.”

—

“Gin.” Allison spread her cards out on the table. Patty followed suit and they tallied the points, “That puts me at 520 total. And you at…110.”

“Oh, come on. You never play cards. How do you win every fucking game?” They had been playing for hours. They didn't know what else to do.

“My dad used to play with me.”

“I thought you never had any fun.”

“Well, not for fifteen years.”

“Glad I didn’t get out the poker chips. You're a fuckin’ ringer.”

Allison smiled. “Oh I’m terrible at poker.”

“Because you’re a terrible liar.”

“Like you’re any better.” Allison thought back to Patty’s discussion with the P.I.

“You wanna bet?” 

Allison shook her head. It was getting fuzzy. If they were going to start bluffing, she wanted it to be clear. She yawned. “You know, if we take turns, we can probably get some sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Not gonna fight me on this?”

“Nope. I’ll keep a lookout for the first shift.”

Allison laughed. “That was easy. Now to find some place to sleep.”

Patty went over to the back wall and slid down, her legs stretched out in front of her. “Come here,” she said, patting her lap.

“What? Really?”

“I oughta be good for something,” Patty laughed. She took off her flannel and laid it on the ground next to her. “This floor is probably disgusting, who knows who comes through here,” she shrugged. She had a sleeveless shirt on, and Allison stared for a second, wondering if she'd ever seen Patty's arms before. All of them, anyway . . .

Allison walked over and crouched on the ground next to her. “You sure?” She had gotten over her fixation on Patty’s hands after enough rounds of cards, but this wasn’t likely to help things.

Patty looked down and nodded. “Come on. One of us might as well get some sleep.”

“Don’t forget to switch. After an hour or so, maybe.”

“Of course,” Patty said.

Allison laid her head gingerly on Patty’s lap, realizing how intimate this was, always had been, and cursing herself for suggesting something so fraught when she had just been apologizing for similar behavior. But Patty seemed unperturbed, and her hands found their way to Allison’s hair, pulling out her hair tie, and working through the tangles lightly the way they had done a hundred times before. It was so deft and so gentle that it nearly made Allison cry, and it brought memories back that she had nearly forgotten.

—

The day of the fire, the day Allison came home, she had been laying like this, on the couch, had fallen asleep this way, when she woke to find Patty’s hands moving gently through her hair, and she looked up with a relaxed smile. She couldn’t ever remember feeling as safe as she did right then. And at the time there was so much going on—Kevin’s death, her escape from being arrested—that safety seemed the ultimate goal.

But Allison also remembered the look on Patty’s face as her hands stilled, realizing Allison was awake. Patty had looked at her then, and Allison thought, for a moment, that Patty wanted to kiss her—and for even longer, that she really wanted her to. Maybe it was only a passing thought, or maybe Allison was wrong, maybe Patty was simply glad that Allison came home.

In the end, the moment had passed, and nothing had happened. Then, or ever after. And it was probably for the best. Patty was happy now. And what a mess Allison would have been back then . . .

—

“Wake up, hon,” the sound of Patty's voice startled her, and Allison, her dreams a confusing mix of terror and embarrassing fantasy, forgot for a moment where she was.

“What? What is it?” she said, rolling toward the voice, reluctant to awaken.

“The sun’s coming up, he may get here soon.”

“Isn’t it your turn?” Allison asked groggily, her eyes still closed, remembering their deal.

“Eh, I let you sleep.”

“But—”

“I don’t sleep well anyway.”

“That wasn’t the deal.”

“Shut up and let’s figure out where to hide before we get caught like this.”

Allison eyes shot open and she scrambled up, remembering that her pillow was not, in fact— “Okay, okay. Closet?”

“Yeah, probably our best bet.”

“Not particularly roomy in there.”

“Better than the desk.”

Remembering the position under the desk, Allison couldn’t help but agree. “Closet it is.”

They both went in, and sat down, figuring it would be more comfortable, at least until someone actually arrived at the office.

“I sure hope today isn’t his day off,” Patty mumbled.

“Does he take a day off?” Allison asked, panic rising in her voice.

“I dunno. He could have a stakeout or something all day.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

“I’m sure it’s fine—” Patty said, when she heard a key in the door again. Allison looked at her phone. 6:00 am. What the hell? What kind of hours does this guy keep?

They both stood up, and pressed themselves to the back of the closet as the door opened. 

“Come on in,” Tim’s voice said, to someone, as they could hear him disable the alarm, and two sets of footsteps enter the office. “I’ll just grab something in the back. Make yourself at home.”

Allison stood still as possible, when she suddenly felt something grab her hand, and realized it was Patty, her hand squeezing Allison’s in reassurance. She squeezed back.  

The feeling must have distracted her from listening, because suddenly, light poured into their small space and Allison’s eyes had a hard time adjusting, but there was no mistaking that voice.

“You two can thank me later. Now get the hell out of here.”

Allison gasped and dropped Patty’s hand. Her eyes focused firmly on the floor, she brushed past the coats, ran over to the front door, went outside, and strode down the block as fast as she could without drawing attention. Shit.

Chapter Text

Renée dragged Patty out the door of the office as she sputtered some response about why she and Allison had been hiding in the closet. As if Renée were about to yell at her—about to send her to detention or something.

Doing her best to ignore Patty’s protests, Renée ran ahead and called, “Allison!” down the street, but, true-to-form, Allison was a couple blocks away already and would take a while to catch, even though her pace had since slowed.

Giving up on any rush, Renée resumed walking and turned to Patty. “Why is she running?” It was a simple question. But she hardly expected a simple answer.

Patty’s face was turning red. And she wasn’t running. Interesting. “Are you just going to leave that guy hanging?” Patty asked, hesitant, ignoring Renée’s question altogether.

“I’ll clear it up with him later. We’re cool,” Renée said, smiling to herself at Patty’s obvious, multi-pronged anxiety. She picked up the pace a little to keep from falling further behind Allison, who had not yet stopped to wait for them.

“Are you sure?” Patty wasn’t convinced.

“Patty, don’t worry about it,” Renée said as they continued long strides. They were now about a block away from Allison, though she was still walking rather quickly.

“How am I not supposed to worry about it?”

Renée decided ignoring this was her best bet. “Why is Allison running?” she repeated, instead.

Patty shrugged, but she still looked embarrassed. Just as the outside light had fallen on Allison and Patty pressed to the back wall of that closet, Renée had seen Allison’s hand pull away sharply. Renée hadn’t been sure what to make of it, but it sure seemed promising. “We’ll get back to this later,” Renée said, giving Patty a stern look, as Allison had finally halted progress but was pacing back and forth.

“Um . . . um,” Allison said as they approached, as much to herself as to them, almost in rhythm with her steps.

“Hey, Allison,” Renée offered in as unaffected a voice as she could muster. She really didn’t want to torture her. Much.

“Um . . . hey, um, Renée,” she returned.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Renée offered, starting to feel bad. It was difficult to take this so seriously, but Renée knew her amusement was probably best left for later. She was dealing with two very tightly wound individuals, and maybe she couldn’t entirely blame them. She put a hand on Allison’s shoulder and squeezed. But Allison’s body remained tense. Patty stood a few feet away, trying not to make eye contact.

Allison did stop her pacing, though, and gave Renée a worried look. But she did not speak.

“I’ve got you covered.” Renée reassured.

With surprise in her eyes, Allison said. “You do?” After a beat, she continued. “Why?”

Renée smiled, unable to help herself completely from enjoying the knowledge she had recently obtained. “Why not?”

Allison looked alarmed and stared at her own feet. “Um . . .”

Renée grabbed Allison’s hand, which was nearly balled into a fist. She almost had to pry her fingers apart. “You’re fine.” She looked over at Patty, still glancing off in several other directions. “You, too.” Renée sighed. “You’re both fine. Just don’t go back there, okay?”

“Okay,” they both said, in unison. 

Allison spoke up, though quietly, “It wasn’t—” she started.

Renée bit her lip, trying not to laugh at Allison’s meekness. “I don’t need to know. Let’s just get back to the hotel. You two have a dress fitting this morning, if I’m not mistaken.”

Patty grumbled, and Allison was silent. Renée turned them around and directed them both to her car, which was parked on the street near Tim’s office. They rode in silence, Allison sitting in the back seat, alone, looking like a child being punished.

Renée did her best not to smile the entire time.

—

In the large back room of the dress shop, the bridesmaids were gathered, along with Renée and Molly, who were the only other women in the group, besides Diane, who weren’t currently dressed in burgundy satin. Patty had just walked back from the changing room, and Renée couldn’t help but think the color suited her. Even if the grimace that accompanied it wasn’t the best way to accessorize.

Knowing very well it was not the time, Renée perversely decided to revisit the morning’s activities. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think Allison was embarrassed to be caught holding your hand,” she said, her voice low. It was a big room, and others were talking, but she couldn’t be sure how far her voice would carry.

“She was caught breaking and entering, more like.” Patty rolled her eyes, but Renée could tell there was a certain hesitation. She was interested.

“You should tell her.”

“Tell her what?” Patty acted like there was nothing to say.

“Tell her we’re not really together, so she doesn’t feel guilty.”

“Allison doesn’t feel guilty.”

“Coulda fooled me. Your supposed girlfriend catches you two hidden in the back of a closet holding hands and she runs halfway across town. No guilt there. Nope.”

“Shut up.”

“You say that when I’m right.” The seamstress came by and did some measurements, leaving again with a sharp nod. Renée, who had been making faces the whole time, positioned herself behind Patty and fussed with the zipper at the back of her dress, adjusting the straps carefully, brushing at Patty’s shoulders as though something had fallen on them. 

“Stop that,” Patty said quietly, through her teeth.

“Just making sure you don't need any more adjustments,” Renée replied, close to her ear.

“Sure you are,” Patty said, under her breath.

“Well, she's watching. You're welcome.”

Patty turned her head. “I'm not sure I should be thanking you.” As she said this, Renée saw that Allison’s eyes had focused on them yet again.

Every time Renée caught a glimpse of Allison across the room, Molly hovering, inexplicably helping with her fitting, Allison was staring at Patty, or at Renée, seemingly oblivious to being caught, or not caring at all. “Hold on, is Allison here with Molly?” Renée asked, laying a hand on Patty’s shoulder, suddenly a little confused.

Patty shrugged. “I guess so. I don’t know why else she’d be here.”

“So she did bring someone.”

Patty laughed. “Funny.”

“No, but think about it.”

“About what?”

“She didn't want to come alone, either.”

“Yeah, it would be boring as hell.”

Renée narrowed her eyes. “Not if you were here.” Patty rolled her eyes. “Alone.”

“I hardly think she brought Molly to protect herself from me.”

Renée turned Patty towards her and shook her head. “From us,” she said, nodding her head between the two of them. “She knew about us. Or thought she did. Remember?” It made a lot of sense. Or it seemed to. Renée realized she could really use someone to tell her she was an idiot once in a while. She was starting to think she was always right.

“Come off it.” Well, Patty could be counted on to have her own opinion. But that had a tendency to make Renée double down.

“Never.” Renée said it playfully, but she was starting to wonder if her conviction about Allison and Patty was true, or just something she wanted to believe, and there was no one to contradict her but Patty. Still standing behind Patty, she pinched her back lightly where she knew she'd be ticklish.

Patty jumped away and smacked Renée, prompting Allison to send them a look like a poor lost puppy. If she was going to react like that to every little interaction they had, Renée would never be set straight. She grabbed a spool of frilly trim from the counter next to her, throwing it at Patty. “Why don't you try some of this? I think it'll look good.” 

It hit Patty square in the chest, allowing her to awkwardly trap it. 

“Nice catch,” Renée said, laughing, as Patty threw it back. 

“Is that a proposal?” she asked, her voice resonating in a way that a few people turned to look.

Renée nearly guffawed, spool back in her hands, guessing what kind of look Allison might be giving them now.

“We don't throw the tulle,” a harsh voice said from behind them, as the proprietor of the dress shop stepped up and grabbed the roll. Renée looked over at Patty, but she was already halfway across the room. Nice.

“Of course not, ma’am,” Renée said, voice as serious as she could muster. As the woman walked away, Patty slowly meandered back over. “Thanks for abandoning me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were experienced in evading the law,” Renée smiled slyly.

A rather fake coughing fit ensued, and Renée took an opportunity to glance up in Allison’s direction. Allison caught her eye, and Renée was surprised, again, that she didn’t look away. She looked . . . like she was studying her, studying them. It was oddly unnerving.

Patty pulled at Renée's elbow, distracting her attention from her game of watching Allison. “Okay, get me out of this thing. I don’t intend to wear it more than I have to.” 

Renée took a moment to look, and realized the chances of seeing Patty in a low-cut burgundy dress were going to be few and far between. Which was a shame. “You look good, though. You really do. You can really tell you have . . . arms.”  Renée bit her lip and smiled.

Patty scoffed. “I’d better, otherwise it’s a fuckin’ waste of time.”

“That’s the spirit!” Renée said, spinning Patty around to help start the zipper.  As Patty walked off towards the dressing stalls, Renee gave one last look over at Allison. 

But she wasn’t there anymore.

Behind her, a voice called out. “Don’t forget! Baseball game tomorrow evening. Sign-up for the shuttle! And let us know if you want a promotional hat!” One of the women that Renée remembered as Diane’s book club friend was going around with a clipboard. This wedding was starting to seem like some kind of cheesy work retreat. It would be awfully dull to be here alone.  

Patty was still changing as Renée thought about what a slog a nine inning minor league baseball game could be. But then she remembered something that might make it interesting. She pulled out her phone and dialed. Tammy picked up on the other end. “Hey—yeah, it’s me. Do you remember the camera guy at the WooSox games? Yeah, Darryl. Does he still work there?”

—

The rest of the day went by quickly, Allison and Molly had disappeared, and Renée lost her favorite pastime. They found out from Diane at dinner that it was something to do with work, and Patty tried to hide it, but there was a look of worry in her eyes. They returned to their room after having a rather silent drink at the bar. Renée had hoped to get some sense from Patty of what she was thinking, but so far she had stayed quiet, the playfulness of the morning gone.

Giving up on finding something to watch, Renée turned the television off and watched as Patty stood on the other side of their room, staring out the window that overlooked the pool. “She probably wouldn't appreciate being watched,” Renée ventured, adjusting the pillows on the bed behind her. She thought about picking up a book, but she knew there was no point. 

Patty turned, her face unreadable. “She knows the entire hotel practically has a view back there. Besides, there's no lifeguard on duty, I'm just makin’ sure she's okay.” It all sounded very reasonable, but Renée knew Patty never admitted to worrying about anyone (though she often did).

“You're gonna run down there and save her if she starts flailing?” Renée smiled, hoping to get Patty to smile in return.

“Shut up.” It almost worked.

“You should tell her.” Renée decided to antagonize her, instead.

“Right now?”

“Why not?,” Renée motioned to the window. “She's alone—no time like the present.”

“And when she says ‘why would you lie about that?’—what do I say then?”

“Blame it on me. Say I was embarrassed,” Renée suggested.

“That doesn't even make sense. “

“Say I didn't want to cancel after Diane made all the arrangements,” Renée shrugged, “and leave you without a date, and…” Maybe lying wasn’t that easy.

“And when Allison finds out we broke up in January?”

“What's a little fudging?”

“Isn't that against your code of ethics?”

Renée rolled her eyes. “Why don't you want her to know? I understand when you thought she was bringing someone, but she's here with Molly and she's . . . well, I think she's totally fucking in love with you, to be honest.” This morning was more than enough proof.

“That doesn't even make sense.”

“That's the only way her actions make any sense at all.” Renée hoped she was right. But she said this like she knew she was.

Patty bit her lip, considering. “So I tell her we're not really together and what, she feels bad for me?”

“She jumps for joy inside.” Renée raised an eyebrow, “And, for all I know, jumps you.”

Patty let out a dismissive snort. “You don't know Allison.”

“I do know Allison. Maybe not as well as you do. Or should.”

“Seriously, though. What makes you think she’d—when she has never shown . . .” Patty’s voice trailed off. “Why hasn’t she ever done it before?”

Renée felt she could answer that well enough. “One—she's frightened to death of you. And two—it took me dating you for her to realize she felt that way.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“How long did you know her before you admitted it?”

“To you or to myself?” Patty asked, mumbling. It was a surprisingly honest question.

“And what made you realize it?”

“I . . .” Patty looked like she was thinking. “Well it wasn’t her going on some stupid date—” Just then Patty’s mouth clamped shut, like she remembered something she didn’t want to remember.

“And she was married for ten of those years. Maybe cut her some slack for not realizing it right away.”

Patty shook her head before answering, like she was trying to convince herself. She walked away from the window, her hands wringing, her head tilted, her eyes full of anger, but not anger directed at Renée. “So, you think that because I had a stupid crush on her all those years, that means she automatically did, too?”

“No! I'm just saying . . .” Renée trailed off. What was she saying? “I’m saying that maybe she had no reason to think about it—about you—that way. You weren’t even nice to her, you’ve said. But then, maybe, suddenly, she did.”

“Because I started being nice to her?” Patty looked completely dismissive, and yet Renée couldn’t help but detect the hope bubbling below the surface—or was this all just some kind of projection? 

“It was a heck of a lot more than that, and you know it. My point is—if it took you a while, it could take her a while. And she sure has been weird about us.”

“Hold on a minute.” Patty straightened her back, like she was ready to actually engage in this conversation. Or start accusing. “She told me something last night. Something you never mentioned to me.”

“What is that?” Renee had a sneaking suspicion she knew exactly what.

“You told her you were going to ask me out.”

“I was trying to see if it would be welcome.”

“So you asked her if you could date me?”

“Not exactly. I asked her if you were seeing anyone, I wanted to know if you would welcome it. And then with her reaction—I wanted to make sure it was okay.”

“What reaction?”

“She just—she looked upset or surprised or—at the time I wasn’t really thinking about it. Now I think it would have saved me an awful lot of trouble to have thought about it a bit more.”

“Do you think—” Patty hesitated. 

“Do I think what?”

“Never mind.”

“Do I think something woke up in her brain when I said I’d like to date you?”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Yes, I do. And I don’t think she’s been able to shut it down again.” 

Patty’s face went sheet white, and her eyes looked pained. She went back to the window and stood, watching silently. Renée, sensing it was not the time to push further, thought back to the prior evening, after the food tasting.

Early evening the day before

Tammy had been pestering her again all day, wanting to chat about the investigation. So Renée gave in. Patty was off with Allison and there was nothing else on the schedule. So Renée hopped into Tammy’s car, hoping to take her mind off other people’s problems for a bit. But it was not to be. Not two minutes into the car ride, the phone rang, cutting off Tammy mid-sentence. “Let me get this,” Tammy requested. She hit the button on the steering wheel to answer, “Hey, Tim, what’s up?” she said.

“Tim?” Renée mouthed, a question in her eyes, and Tammy nodded. What an interesting coincidence.

The familiar voice spoke up, “Is there a reason your ex is in my office claiming her boyfriend is cheating on her?”

Renée raised an eyebrow. 

“Which ex?” Tammy said, hesitating.

“The latest, as far as I know. And, hold on, she just let poor Gertrude in and is shuttling her into the closet—”

Tammy laughed nervously. “Maybe we should discuss this later. You’re on speaker.”

“Oh, my bad.”

“It’s Renée,” Renée spoke up. “And I already know Patty was supposed to stop by your office. But who is Gertrude?”

Tim cleared his throat. “You do? Who’s this boyfriend? Gertrude is my nickname for Ms. Devine.”

“Well, um, she’s my ex, too,” Renée wasn’t sure she wanted to admit. “But I can assure you there’s no boyfriend.” Tim laughed. “Why do you call Allison Gertrude?” Renée asked. 

Tammy let out a groan, an eye roll apparent from her voice alone. No one answered the question.

“I think I can clear up why Patty is there,” Renée said, plainly. “It’s supposed to be about the background check.”

“Ah,” Tim said. “That—makes a little more sense. Kinda.”

“What background check?” Tammy looked curiously at Renée.

Tim chuckled. “I get it. Maybe we can all catch up soon. I’ll call you back in a bit.”

Tammy looked alarmed as Tim hung up. “What background check?”

Renée smiled sheepishly. “She’s a flight attendant now. She’s going for an international gig.”

“Oh God. I hope no airline I’ll ever take.”

“Come on.”

“What's Allison doing sneaking around with Patty at Tim’s office, though? I never told her who I had follow—” Tammy's voice trailed off.

“You had what?” Renée was intrigued. What was this all about?

“Shit.” Tammy sighed again, and looked over. “Let’s stop over at Exchange Street. This cannot get out. I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Shouldn’t it be on me?”

“Whatever. We can alternate. This is a long story.”

—

About an hour later, Renée let out a breath, feeling as though she’d been holding it the whole time. She took a slow sip of her scotch and soda. “So you’re telling me that you had Tim tailing Allison all over New England, and then he just happened to be assigned to her background check? Isn’t there some kind of conflict of interest?”

Tammy looked away. “That’s his problem, not mine.”

“But I’m sure you’d look the other way if this was all off-the-record.”

“No comment.”

Renée let out a breath of frustration. Tammy could be incredibly stubborn. “I’m not interrogating you.”

“You don’t know any other way.”

“Hah! Like you do.”

“Fair enough.”

“But—so that’s why Allison is all worked up about her background check? She was using a fake identity for six months?”

Tammy bobbed her head equivocally. “Well—it was an identity she managed to steal from a real, dead person. So, completely fucking illegal. And that’s not really all of it.”

“That’s not all of it?”

Tammy took a sip of her drink, swallowing audibly as if steeling herself for what was to come. “Don’t you ever wonder why she ran away in the first place?”

“To get away from Kevin, I thought?” Renée figured that was enough of a reason on its own, though Patty had hinted there was more to it.

“I’m sure that was a happy enough side effect. Or maybe the initial reason. I don’t—I don’t think I should tell you this. I promised Allison I wouldn’t tell anyone, I wouldn’t get her in trouble. As much as I don’t care what happens to her.”  Tammy added that last part with emphasis.

Renée knew she wasn’t a fan of Allison, but there was obviously more to their history than she knew. “You must care, or you would never have given her that promise.”

Tammy frowned and shook her head. “Begrudgingly, at most. She cares about Patty. When I found her—sat across from her—I could see it in her eyes. There was fear of me, not for her sake, but for Patty’s.”

This kept getting more complicated. “Why would she be afraid for Patty?”

“Perhaps another story I shouldn’t divulge.”

“But you will, huh? Something you should’ve told me before dating her?”

“Nothing that really matters anymore. The problem is gone.”

“And that problem was?” Renée had rarely been more intrigued. And it was her job to get the intriguing details.

“Kevin,” Tammy said simply.

Renée nodded. It wasn’t clear what went down, but that Kevin was somehow the problem and likewise would be the solution was clear enough. “Patty mentioned something to me,” Renée admitted. “It was about the time we ran into you at Rochelle’s party. She mentioned that Allison had, well—” Did Tammy know that Allison took the fall for Patty? Maybe it was better to shut her damn mouth.

Tammy sighed. “Not you, too.”

“I don't know anything!”

Tammy shook her head like she was regretting what she was about to say. “Patty spent four years supplying Worcester's old ladies with oxy.”

“What?”

“So you really didn't know?”

“No!”

“Well, neither did I. For the longest time. When it all came together, I felt like a fucking moron.” Tammy spit out the last words with no small amount of disdain.

“How should you have known?”

Tammy pursed her lips. “I was dating the drug dealer I was trying to find. And I just thought she was being shady because she was in love with her mousy, straight, married-to-an-idiot neighbor who treated her like an accessory.”

Renée nearly let out a snort.

“What?”

“Straight?”

“Kevin might not prove much, but she was fucking her boss at the diner. Patty knew it. And it made no difference. She followed her anyway.”

Renée raised an eyebrow. “We all see what we want to see, I guess.”

Tammy remained silent. 

It didn’t seem like the time to convince Tammy that perhaps Allison wasn’t such a lost cause. “So Patty is a drug dealer—” This was hard to wrap her head around.

“Was.”

“Ah.”

“Her supplier got arrested. And then she and Allison went up to Vermont and ripped off some guy for his oxy—a well-meaning truck driver with legitimate back problems. Cold-cocked him, actually. He didn't know what hit him. But he remembered the mousy blonde who wanted to buy the drugs off of him. And Patty was on the surveillance video.”

Renée wasn't sure what to say to all this. They always acted like they were up to something, and she hadn't really wanted to know. But now she did, despite herself. But what would she do about it? “Why did they need drugs?”

“That took a while. On the surface, Patty needed the drugs to appease the nephew of her best customer. Who had been leaking oxys out into the general population. Then that nephew ended up breaking into Allison's house and getting shot by Kevin. I’m sure you heard that story.”

“Jesus. I mean, I heard a little bit— Was he back for more? Why not break into Patty's if he wanted something?”

Tammy's face held a wry smile. “Because she had already given him her drug money.”

“And so he went to the McRoberts house? They didn't have anything.” Renée was privy to that much.

Tammy looked half amused and half chagrined. “He was there, with a gun, because that was part of the deal.”

“The deal?” Oh shit.

“The deal he made with Patty and Allison.”

And then it came to her. She shouldn't be surprised really. Couldn't be surprised. “So wait. The fire—was that—?” Her involvement with the two of them suddenly felt like a vulnerability. Something that maybe she should extricate herself from.

Tammy shook her head. “As far as I can tell—and it happened after I packed up and left—or maybe as I packed up and left?—that was all Kevin. After Nick—and all that, I—as far as I know, they didn’t try again. Instead, Allison left as soon as I tipped off Patty that I was getting too close to the truth.” The pit of dread that had just hit Renée faded somewhat, replaced by confusion. It took a while before she had processed it all.

Tammy allowed her to think this over, but soon Renée ventured a question. “So Allison left, not to get away from Kevin, but to save Patty?” That’s what Patty had meant. That’s what Patty had finally and fully comprehended. If Tammy had been the one to tell Allison to come home, then Allison had come home knowing that Patty was safe. And only then. And Patty had always wanted to believe otherwise. Believe that Allison was selfish—or something. Because then Allison not wanting her in that way was okay, somehow. If she wasn’t really the selfless being she had proven herself to be, then not having all of her was no loss.

Tammy let out a groan. “Who can compete with that?”

“Who would try?”

Tammy's mouth was set in a thin line. 

Renée smiled. “I didn't do any better than you did.” She raised her glass. “Cheers to that.”

Tammy reluctantly raised her glass. The expected clink was more of a thud.

“So then . . . you let Allison off the hook, quit the force, and left town?”

“Fish or cut bait…or however that saying goes.” Tammy’s laugh did not reach her eyes.

“Were you tempted to turn her in?”

Tammy looked thoughtful. Something malicious flashed in her eyes before she, finally, shook her head. “She knew something about me that could've gotten me fired without a pension. Could have destroyed my life.”

“How?”

“I was dumb enough to tell her,” Tammy shook her head, “in a fit of commiseration.”

“Ah.”

“But she didn't use it,” Tammy shook her head, as if still in disbelief. “She had every reason to—I’ve thought about it a lot. She could've stayed in town, completely butchered my credibility, broken me up with Patty . . . And her dad was with the Worcester PD, so she knew the right people.”

Tammy sighed. Renée acknowledged her point.

“But she didn't,” Tammy repeated. She looked almost disappointed.

“Did you want her to?”

“I guess I have a bit of a—tendency to self-sabotage. I think I wanted to be right about her. To show she was a selfish asshole, that Patty could have her and her manipulative, skinny blond ass.”

“But you aren't bitter.” Renée chuckled.

“Correct. I am not.” Tammy did not laugh, though it was there in her eyes, finally. “But can you blame me if I can't stand the sight of her?”

Renée crossed one leg over the other and turned to face Tammy more directly. “People used to think I looked like her.”

Tammy’s eyes widened. She was clearly appalled. “No. You do not.”

“Not even a little?” The amusement suffused Renée’s face.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Tammy looked like she needed to spit out something foul.

“Fine. I’ll take that as a compliment,” Renée  responded with a self-satisfied grin.

“Don’t even joke about such a thing.” Tammy was still adamant, and ignored Renée's conclusion.

Renée took a sip of her drink. “Glad you don’t have any lingering feelings,” she said, her mouth still perched on the edge of her glass to hide her further smile.

Tammy shook her head. “I really don’t. It’s—I’m glad it’s behind me. Though I can’t seem to escape it. With you two dating, and—”

“We broke up months ago.”

“Well, you’re always together.” Tammy looked at her like she didn’t believe a word.

“We’re friends.”

“I’ve heard that before.” Tammy rolled her eyes and took a long swallow of her own vodka soda.

“For real this time. Patty can only be head over heels for one manipulative blonde at a time.”

Tammy scoffed. “Blonde. Right.”

“I’m as blond as Allison is.”

Tammy shrugged an acknowledgement. “Maybe Patty will only ever have eyes for Allison, but that doesn’t mean you don’t still have a thing for her. Hoping she’ll see in you what she saw in Allison.” Tammy scoffed. “Since you look alike, apparently.”

Renée shrugged. “I think I can safely say that I genuinely want her to be happy without me.”

“Patty doesn’t know how to be happy. That’s why she’s still pining for Allison.”

“Something we can agree on.”

“I got the impression you thought Patty had a chance.”

“I do.”

“I don’t see Allison sitting on an opportunity like that. Not when it was right under her nose. She was always determined to stick with Patty, no matter how many times I told her to back off a little.”

Renée knew that was true on the surface. It didn’t all make a lot of sense. “I just . . . they belong together, somehow. I’ll let them iron out the details. But they certainly don’t function without each other. Patty has done her best, but . . .”

“They deserve each other.”

“If you want to put it that way.”

“I do.”

Just then, the door to the bar opened, and Tim walked in, looking like he had just sprinted there, fingers running through his hair to straighten it.

“What happened to you?” Tammy asked as he approached. He nodded to Renée and she returned the greeting.

“I was going to meet you two here, but then I forgot that, with all the sneaking around, I didn’t set the alarm for my office, so I ran back instead of driving. It was faster, but now I’m—” he pointed to himself, “as you see. Since when does it get hot around here?”

Tammy smiled. 

“Wait,” Renée asked. “So was Allison still in the closet?”

Tim looked at her. “Oh. Shit.”

“Did you lock her in your office?” A large smile crept onto her face.

“If she's in there, I swear it wasn’t on purpose.” Tim looked embarrassed.  

Tammy laughed like she hadn’t heard a better joke in years. “Don’t you have surveillance?” 

“Oh, sure. I can see.” He pulled up the app on his phone, zoomed in and chuckled to himself.

“What?” Tammy and Renée asked at the same time.

“Look.”

Renée squinted, and realized, in the greyish office-scape visible from the security camera, that she was looking at Patty and Allison, sitting on either side of Tim’s desk, playing some kind of card game. She smiled. “Of course.”

Tammy sighed. “See? Patty will be miserable her entire life. But she doesn’t want anything else.”

Tim interjected. “They don’t look miserable to me.”

No, they don’t, Renée thought. But there was no point in trying to convince Tammy. She ordered another drink.

Present day, Renée and Patty’s Hotel Room

Renée had let Patty stand there, as she thought about the scene on Tim's phone, the interaction she observed that morning, Allison's looks during the dress fitting. “Did you have a good time?”

“A good time?” Patty asked, absently.

“At your little office sleepover.”

“Shut up,” Patty said. Then she shook her head at herself. “Yes,” she said, simply. “I haven’t had that much fun in ages. Since . . . well, since.”

Renée just nodded. “I know this isn't easy. I may be wrong. But if you just let this all go, she goes off on her airline, flying around the world, you're always going to regret it.”

“But we're friends again. I think. We can be friends whether you and I are dating or not. I don't—" Patty paused. "I don't want to give that up again.”

Renée disagreed. “If you don't confront this—thing—this uncertainty—the same thing is gonna get in the way. Even if I'm wrong—do you think her knowing would change anything? I thought you were convinced she knew already?”

Patty walked back over to the window. Renée expected a "knew what?" and got instead, a "maybe not."

“Is she still out there?”

“Yeah.”

“A lot of demons, maybe.”

“Or maybe she's just trying to earn the cheeseburger she plans to get at the game tomorrow.”

“Yes, but who’s the cheeseburger?”

“Stop it.” Patty looked angry. This time Renée thought it was at her.

“You two are impossible.”

Patty let out a sigh and came away from the window towards the bed.

Renée sat up further. “Make any resolutions? Ready to go out there?”

Patty’s eyes were sad. “She went inside.”

“She's in 206,” Renée offered.

Patty let out a breath. “Not tonight. I'm not ready.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, and, suddenly, she looked over sharply. “How do you know her room number?”

Renée decided to ignore the question. “Your chances are dwindling. Don't leave it until the last minute.”

Patty just nodded absently, her face clouded in thought. Renée hoped she was finally getting somewhere. 

Chapter Text

An hour or so prior to the dress fitting

"Hey, Allison!" Molly called over to the waffle station at the continental breakfast spread, where Allison was furtively trying to extract a lopsided waffle from the iron. "I stopped by your room. Were you on a run?" Allison was wearing running clothes, but her hair, though looking haphazard and hastily thrown in a bun, was dry, as were her clothes. Given the humidity, it didn't look like she had actually exerted any energy. Earlier, Molly had been outside for five minutes and felt like she had been soaked through with sweat—she had taken another shower before coming down to breakfast. "You should’ve texted me, I could’ve gone with you."

Allison turned, a look of embarrassment crossing her features. "Oh, no, no, I was just . . . I couldn't sleep so I took a walk around the lake."

"Weird that I didn't run into you. That's where I was. So humid though."

Allison said something under her breath that Molly couldn't hear. "Yeah, weird," she agreed. She wiped her forehead, but it must have been a nervous habit or her imagination, because there was nothing to wipe.

Allison turned back to the waffle station and Molly wondered what was wrong. "Are you okay?" she asked. Allison had managed to pry the rest of the waffle free from the supposedly nonstick surface and was now attempting to open a pad of butter. "Here, let me get that, I've got nails," Molly offered, taking the little package and quickly removing the foil. "There ya go."

A little uncomfortable laugh escaped Allison's mouth and she started to dab onto the waffle what little patches of butter she could chip from the pad with her plastic butter knife. They quickly melted on the fresh waffle into sad little droplets, one every four or five squares. "Not sure I should brave the syrup at this rate," Allison said with a self-deprecating smile. But she grabbed a carafe and poured the syrup on anyway, tilting carefully each time to allow a little in each square.

“You like butterscotch?” Molly asked, smiling down at the creation.

Allison turned the carafe around, her eyes flashing. “Oh, shit.” Allison's nose wrinkled in disgust as she put the container down quickly and it hit the table with a loud thud that made a few folks turn.

Molly decided it was time to move away from the waffles. "Diane and I were just sitting down over there," Molly gestured to the far end of the breakfast room. "Come on over and sit."

Allison looked up from her waffle, her face brighter. “Oh, oh. Good. I feel like I've barely talked to Diane, considering she's the reason I'm here." Allison gingerly picked up her plate and followed Molly across the room.

Ten feet from the table, Diane got up to meet them and pulled Allison into a hug, Allison barely moving her plate away in time to avoid squashing it between them.

"Sweets! Where have you been? Always off somewhere.” Diane tutted, “We should catch up. Sit down here.” Molly thought perhaps she should go, but Diane pulled at her arm. “No, no, you stay here, too.”

Allison nodded and sat down. She began to immediately stab and saw at the waffle with the plastic cutlery, looking down in consternation, while Diane asked questions and Allison alternated between noncommittal grunts and “sure.” 

Diane wasn't getting very far with this catch up, and Molly thought maybe she should get up and leave, when Diane said, in the middle of a round of questions about Allison’s upcoming flight schedule, "So how's Tyler?"

"What?" Allison said, abruptly, fully looking up at Diane for the first time as Molly tried to hide her own smile.

"Oh, come on now. You went to visit his parents! Why didn't you bring him here with you?" Diane narrowed her eyes. “Though Molly is welcome, of course.” She gave Molly a genuine smile as if they were both in on a secret.

Molly nodded in understanding. “I've asked her the same thing.” Diane raised an eyebrow, though Molly didn't understand why that would be surprising. 

"Oh! I didn't . . . " Allison started, taking another jab at her waffle. "He wasn't free this week," she finished, stuffing a large piece in her mouth, butterscotch syrup dripping down her chin. She didn't meet Molly's eye, perhaps sensing Molly knew the truth. 

"That's a shame," Diane continued. "Weddings are so much more fun with a date."

"That's why I brought Molly."

Molly smiled. "I doubt it's really the same," she said. "But I'm having a good time so far.” She gave Allison's hand a squeeze. “Thank you."

"That reminds me," Diane said, her voice getting a conspiratorial tone. "I was surprised Patty brought Renée along. I could’ve sworn they broke up months ago."

Allison started to cough, prompting a short pause to ensure that she wasn't choking (she wasn't), followed by her downing some water.

Diane continued. "I thought maybe they came as friends—you know, like the two of you. But then it seems like—well, they are acting like—"

Molly, figuring this was a safe space, decided to venture her own information. "You know, the first day we were here, I could’ve sworn I heard them say they were faking it."

Allison's eyes grew wide. "Faking—why would they do that?"

Molly shrugged. Diane gave her another knowing look that she didn't fully understand.

"Well, if that's true, no doubt there's some reason they felt the need," Diane looked over at Allison. "Don't you think?"

Allison's face looked panicked. "How should I know?"

Diane bit her lip, holding back a laugh. "No idea."

"I don't know!" Allison said, rather loudly, prompting a few others to look their way for the second time that morning. She looked at her waffle, still taking up most of her plate, but with quite a few ragged edges.

Molly was bewildered, but thought perhaps Allison's history with Patty made Diane assume she knew more than she did. "Well they seemed to be getting along. And every time I see them in public Renée is practically all over her. So maybe I just misunderstood. I shouldn't have been eavesdropping." She realized, suddenly, what she had just done. "And I really shouldn't have been repeating it just now."

Diane laughed. "Eh, no harm in a little speculation." She looked at Allison again. "Don't you agree?"

Allison looked up. "We should let them have their privacy," she said, pointedly. "We should just leave them alone." She got up, pushed her chair in, and grabbed her plate, the remaining waffle sliding off and landing, syrup down, on the floor. "Damn it," she said through gritted teeth, picking up the waffle, and nearly running over to the trash, and tossing it in. She attempted to grab a napkin, but it stuck to her fingers as she tried to fling it from them. Eventually, giving up, napkin still stuck, she stalked out of the room in the direction of the elevators.

"Do you think she's okay?" Molly asked, concerned.

But Diane just laughed. "Seems a little frustrated if you ask me."

Molly nodded. That could be fixed.

—

At the dress fitting, Allison was clearly preoccupied. She looked great, Molly thought, but it almost seemed like she didn't care. More often than not, Molly caught her staring at Patty and Renée, who seemed awfully close today, even moreso than the day before. They'd make a liar out of her, it seemed, with whatever they were doing.

"Maybe I misheard," Molly ventured, seeing Allison once again staring at Renée, who had practically draped herself over Patty's shoulders and was whispering in her ear.

"No," Allison said, her eyes narrowing, glance unwavering. "I think you might be right." She adjusted her own straps, mimicking Renee's motions. "It's like it's too much. Patty doesn't . . . I don't think she'd like that. Not all the time. And it has been constant."

Molly considered, and wondered if Allison was right. "Maybe she's changed?"

Allison shook her head. "Patty doesn't change," she said. "People change around her, but she is always the same." There was a sort of wistfulness to her voice that Molly didn't wholly understand.

"Are you sure you give her enough credit?"

Allison's face screwed up in frustration. "I am giving her credit."

Molly, who could only wonder what it all meant, was treated with an additional explanation.

"I wish I . . . I wish I could be so self-assured that I could just . . . start dating Tammy and . . . and Renée, and . . . and not even give one rat's ass who might be surprised, or, or whatever, and just, you know, suddenly . . . "

Molly was even more confused than she had been. "Yeah, but why would you—?"

"It's just an example!" Allison said, an edge still in her voice. Molly was beginning to think Diane was right.

Molly's phone began to buzz, prompting an interruption to their conversation. Allison went back to staring at Patty and Renée.

"Hello?" She answered the number without recognizing it.

"Oh, it's Ty," he said, hurriedly, "my phone died and Jake let me borrow his."

"Where are you?" Molly thought he was on his way, but she didn't remember him mentioning a leg with Jake.

"Here's the thing, I ended up taking an extra leg because Ian was sick. So I'm in Cleveland. I'm kinda stuck here, though. So I'll be in tomorrow, not tonight. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize to me," Molly said, nevertheless feeling the disappointment settle into her gut.

"No, but I really wanted to be there."

"Well, you will be. It’s okay."

"I wish I were there right now," he said, and Molly thought she could hear laughter in the background. "Come off it, Jake," she could hear Ty's muffled voice say.

"Hey . . . hey, it's okay," Molly said, her voice low. She moved away from Allison, who seemed to be paying no attention anyway. "But wait, if you get in tomorrow, we'll be at the WooSox game." She had told Allison she wanted to check in with her mom and grandma today. Now what would she tell her?

"You don't need to bring Allison to pick me up," Ty said, sounding a little annoyed. “Just split off from the group.”

"It's her car. Well, rental."

"If she's busy, she'll let you borrow it, right? Or maybe don't tell her?" Not telling her is what she had been doing. But why would he suggest it?

"I'm supposed to be at the game, too."

"Say you're sick."

"In August?"

"Stomach bug."

Molly thought it wasn't a terrible idea. Though she didn't really want people thinking about her being holed up in the bathroom. "Okay, okay.” So what would she tell Allison about today?

Ty chuckled. He was always amused when Molly felt slow. She wasn't sure if it was comforting or terrible.

"Okay, well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow," she said, quietly, hanging up a moment later.

"See who tomorrow?" Allison asked, her own phone in her hand, fresh from a separate call.

"Oh, um . . ." Molly thought quickly. "My mom. She wants me to come tomorrow instead." It wasn't at all what she had just discussed with Ty. It was simpler, actually. But he didn't know that. 

"But we'll miss the WooSox game,” Allison's eyebrows furrowed as she looked over in the direction of Patty and Renée yet again.

"Yeah, is it—can I borrow the car and just head over there—? I don't want you to miss it."

"I don't even care about the game, really . . ." Allison started, but then changed gears, "I guess it's fine . . .” Allison looked at Molly, her face small and hopeful. “Actually," she paused, "This is perfect, because I was about to tell you I couldn't make it today. I've got an interview." Allison looked down, fussed with the side of her dress. “For the new job. The international one.”

"What?"

"There was some sort of last minute cancellation, and I guess I was next on the list. They asked if I could go. I gotta get over there by 2. If I can go at all."

"Oh, well—" Molly was happy for her, but she hadn't heard anything, and there was niggling disappointment building.

"Did you bring any business clothes?" Allison said, her voice nervous. "All I have is my uniform and I . . . I just can't."

"Yeah, yeah," Molly said. "I should have something," she looked at Allison, "let's get out of here."

Allison beamed. "Thank you, " she said, her voice full of relief. She grabbed Molly's hands. "Thank you so much. Let me call them back and confirm.”

But Molly didn't feel as thrilled about the change in plans as she wanted to be.

— 

"So do you think this will work?" Allison asked, turning slightly towards the hotel room mirror in the navy dress suit. "I think we must be exactly the same size." She made a sort of ick face of realization that disappeared as soon as it appeared. No doubt she was thinking about Kevin. He rarely popped into Molly’s head anymore, and for that she was thankful. Fifteen years of him would be harder to flush from the system.

"You look better in it than I do," Molly said, truly believing it. "I think it's perfect."

Allison walked over to the mirror, considering. "It'll have to do," she said, her voice skeptical. "You should wear the tan one," Allison added. "I love that one."

"What? Then why don't you wear it? I'm just there for moral support!"

"But if they called me at the last minute, maybe they are going to call you, too. You might as well be ready."

It wasn't an entirely unbelievable idea, Molly hoped. She had been thinking of wearing just the tan dress to the wedding, without the blazer, but she might have to reconsider. Her back up idea was . . . riskier, maybe. "Okay," she agreed. "Why not?"

Allison smiled. "I bet you'll get a call on the way," she said, with certainty. "I'm sure of it."

— 

Molly did not get a call on the way. Allison drove, and Molly sat and stewed, wondering what Ty was up to, trying to figure out how to surprise Allison with his presence the next day when she wouldn't be back until late. Would she just want to fall asleep after a long, boring baseball game? Would Benny pester her the whole time without Molly at her side? As they chatted, Molly kept trying to get Allison to talk about Ty, but Allison wasn't taking the bait. Finally, she just mentioned him outright.

"I heard from Ty earlier," she said, glancing sideways at Allison.

Allison smiled. "Oh? How's he doing?"

"He was in Cleveland. Sounded bored."

Allison laughed. "That's not his normal route," she said, absently. "Wonder what brought him there."

"Filling in for Ian, I think, " Molly offered.

"Oh, makes sense," Allison said, simply.

"I think he might be headed back this way, though. Maybe we could see him?"

Allison shrugged. "There’s so much scheduled, but you're definitely free to skip out on things for the next few days. I dragged you here, and I should probably stick to the schedule. But you're not a prisoner."

Molly was confused by Allison's response. Maybe she was just downplaying the whole thing, but it almost seemed like she didn't care. "Maybe I will," Molly said. "If he's free."

"You totally should." Allison said. Molly didn't know what to think.

— 

Molly adjusted the hem of her dress absently as she sat on the sofa in the lobby of the office building. The whole building seemed strangely abandoned, perhaps because it was vacation time, perhaps no one had really returned after a long stretch of work-from-home. Her phone battery was low, but it was no matter, since Ty wasn't answering. He must not have been able to charge his phone yet, and she certainly wasn't going to text Jake.

Allison had been in the room for only about ten minutes when the door opened.

“They said they want to talk to you, too,” was the first thing out of her mouth, but Molly could barely register its meaning.

“Are you done already?”

“Oh, um. Yes,” Allison said. She must've gotten the job if it was that quick.” But they are really excited you're here already. They want to meet you now. If it's okay?”

Molly looked around. This was the most bizarre thing that had ever happened to her. Or, well, maybe just a distant second. “I guess, I mean . . . yes, of course! Of course! Is it okay that I didn’t bring my resume?”

“I had you covered,” Allison said, “I had a few extras from the last time when we went to the FedEx store . . .” 

Molly only let her surprise delay her for a moment. “It's now or never I guess!”

“Exactly!” Allison said, slapping her on the back and kindly pushing her towards the door of the office. “Go get ‘em!”

—

The next day, driving out to pick up Ty in Boston, Molly still couldn't get over the interview the day before. She had assumed it was just some kind of courtesy. But then, at the end of the session, they had offered her the job. On the spot. With flights to Paris! France! She wanted to tell Allison, but she was afraid. She assumed Allison had the same offer, but Allison hadn't seemed all that excited on the ride home. She seemed thoughtful, instead, and Molly didn't want to ruin her mood further with news that, even with the slimmest chance, might upset her. It was supposed to be a fun week. Her fun week. Her aunt's fun week. Not Molly's.

And Ty's presence was bound to help. Molly was almost shaking with the anticipation of what she had planned. Her job success aside, she had been even more thrilled to hear from Ty early the next morning, texting her to let her know he'd be in to Boston by six and maybe they could grab dinner while everyone was at the WooSox game. The plan was coming together, and they'd be able to get on the same page about how to surprise Allison. Once she told him it would be a surprise altogether, that is, and not just a surprise on the timing.

As she waited for him at the luggage carousel, she looked around and realized she had only had a few days off and she already missed it. As much as she was having a good time at the pre-wedding festivities, she wanted to be back in the air, and she was all the more excited to be expanding her range, going to see new places. Just the buzz of the carousel and the variety of the suitcases filing past her one by one made her feel alive. 

“Hello, Molly,” she heard Ty say in her ear, standing behind her, and she smiled as his breath and the barely discernible roughness of his five o'clock shadow tickled at her ear lobe. “I missed you,” he added, and he pulled her back towards him. She went to turn and she felt, unsure of what it was at first, a wetness at her neck, and she jumped away, turning towards him.

“Ty!” She exclaimed, realizing it was him, his wetness, his lips below her ear, and, thrown into confusion, she found it hard to look him in the eye. 

He pulled her back toward him gently by the arm. “What is it?” he asked, softly. “I was hoping you were as excited to see me as I was to be here.”

“I . . . but . . . I,” she said, with some confusion.

“You look fantastic,” he said, eyeing her up and down. “I haven't seen you in regular clothes since January, practically,” he added.

“What? But who cares?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious, still wondering about his greeting, still feeling that spot burning a hole in her skin.

“I'm just happy I'm here. Where do you want to get dinner? I was thinking there was a little Italian place—”

“Allison doesn't know you're here,” she said, cutting him off, suddenly afraid that her plan was about to go incredibly wrong.

“Yeah, I know, but what's a little white lie so I can see you earlier?”

“No, I mean, no. I—” Molly was having a hard time. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. “I mean I never asked her. She doesn't know you're coming at all.”

“What? I thought you said she was okay with it? That her aunt was okay with it. It's her wedding, Molly.”

“Well, um, I kinda thought you would be a . . . surprise for Allison. That you could, um, cheer her up.” As Molly said the words, slowly, she could see his face fall, and by the time she was done, he was biting the inside of his lip. Her own heart sank. How had she fucked this up?

“Oh,” he said, the shock evident in his voice. “Oh,” he said again. He tried to smile, but it looked forced. “Of course. I didn't mean to—” he began, “in that case—” she could see him recovering in real time. As though he was practiced at it. He could adapt—like that—to any situation—any eventuality. “In that case, how shall we surprise her?” His lips turned up into a conspiratorial grin, his face transformed from only moments before. “Shall we grab a drink at the bar right here and plan it all out?”

How did he know? Molly thought. How did he know that was what I had been about to suggest? “Mmhmm,” she agreed, nodding, glad to be back to her plan, back in cahoots. 

And as he led her away, an arm comfortably around her shoulder, already joking about how stunned Allison would be by his sudden arrival, Molly wanted to feel like a crisis had been averted.

But she wasn’t sure it had.

Chapter Text

Renée’s words from the evening before were floating through Patty's mind as they rode the shuttle to the WooSox game. It was a party bus, so the seats all faced one another. Allison sat directly across from them, by luck, as they all filed in, or just by chance (Patty wasn't sure it deserved a benevolent connotation). Allison watched them still, surreptitiously but nearly constantly, so when Renée went to grab Patty’s hand, Patty withdrew, earning a head turn and a questioning look from her side.

Patty did her best to convey, in those tight quarters, “you told me to tell her the truth, why make it worse?” and Renée seemed to understand. Because nothing happened again on the bus. No hand grasping, no shoulder rubbing, no sitting just a little too close. In fact, Renée got up and went to talk to Richard (who, as it turned out, was also a lawyer, local to Worcester) at the back of the shuttle halfway to the stadium, leaving Allison silently staring only at Patty from her perch a few feet away.

“Hey,” Patty said, acknowledging her.

“Hey,” Allison said without smiling, her face serious.

“Where’s Molly?” Patty asked. She wasn't on the bus and tended to be by Allison's side, or hovering nearby, at all times. It had started to get frustrating.

“She wanted to check in on her mom and grandma. I don’t think she’s a big baseball fan.”

“Unlike you,” Patty offered. 

Allison laughed, looking surprised at her own reaction. Patty felt a surge of relief.

“You didn’t want to go with her, instead?” Patty asked.

Allison smiled. “I thought we could . . . hang out,” she said. She didn’t elaborate.

Patty thought that sounded pretty good, actually. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Allison said, her smile creeping up the side of her face in that way that it did. Patty could feel a certain nervousness building in the pit of her stomach. Jesus, why was that necessary? She cursed her body for betraying her.

“You want a drink?” Patty had heard there was a cooler somewhere. The clinks of a few bottles seemed to confirm.

“I’ll take a beer,” Allison said.

Patty hesitated. “Why?”

“It’s a baseball game. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to drink at a baseball game?”

“We’re not at the game yet.”

Allison shrugged. “I think that’s all they were supposed to have on the bus.”

Patty nodded. She walked back to the cooler and grabbed them two beers. As she did, Renée raised an eyebrow at her. Patty wanted to scowl, but she was too . . . thankful? She came back, twisted a cap off one of the bottles and handed it to Allison, who took a sip.

“It’s too warm,” Allison said, her voice nasal, her face stony.

“Really?” Patty was about to get up and get another one when she saw Allison’s face slowly transform into a smile of such amusement that she looked to be holding back laughter. “Fine,” Patty replied, faking a huff.

“Fine!” Allison said, raising an eyebrow while doing her best annoyed voice.

They each took sips of beer, and Patty could see that Allison, though looking down at her beer, was still smiling to herself. 

Patty knew she should say something, but she couldn’t think of what. She wanted to tell her. Tell Allison that this all was just a big misunderstanding. They didn’t need to be fighting. Renée wasn’t the fucking love of her life. Patty was just single, alone, like she had been before, and she wanted Allison to come home. Come home and hang out with her in the evenings, read books side by side, prop her feet up on Patty’s lap, sleep in her bed, and make Patty’s whole body ache with longing. Patty didn’t fucking care anymore. She wanted Allison to come home.

But there were people all around them, and now was not the time. Maybe they could separate themselves at the game. Maybe Patty would get her chance. But was she even capable of saying that much? Admitting that much? She never had before. There was no reason to think she could do it now. But she also had never wanted to do anything even remotely like it before. Maybe when Allison first came back from the dead. But back then, Allison was . . . 

“Do you follow them?” Allison said, interrupting Patty’s train of thought?

“What?”

“The WooSox? Do you like, watch their games?”

“Are they even on TV?”

“How should I know?” 

Patty shrugged. “I don’t know. I watch the Red Sox. Sometimes they get their players and shit. They move up from the minors or whatever.”

Allison nodded. “So they don’t play each other?”

“Oh, honey.” Patty couldn’t help it.

Allison smiled again, amusement dancing in her eyes, and Patty realized she was joking. She was pretending to be completely clueless. But no one who had lived in Kevin’s house for fifteen years, refilling drinks and restocking snacks daily, could truly know that little about Boston-area sports.

“Gotcha,” Allison said, still smiling. 

Allison had done the same thing to her a number of times in the year after she came back. Calling a touchdown a home run, asking if LeBron James was traded away from the Bruins. Patty somehow always fell for it. Old assumptions died hard, she guessed. “Yeah,” Patty admitted.

“Sometimes I think you still think I’m kinda stupid.”

Patty almost said “right back atcha,” but she wasn’t sure it was really true. Allison respected her opinions. More than anyone ever had, maybe. “I’m sorry,” Patty said, instead.

Allison’s face changed, her eyes filled with a question she didn’t express. 

Patty shrugged, a continuation of her apology, and nodded. 

Allison took a sip of her beer, smiling again, her lips only partially obscured behind the neck of the bottle.

—

There was a bit of commotion as they entered the stadium with tickets being passed around haphazardly. Patty, who had started drinking a little too quickly, felt a buzzing in her head with the crowd around them, and the unusual evening heat, and relied on Renée, who had rejoined her and Allison at some point during the scramble out of the shuttle in front of the stadium, to get the tickets squared away. 

When they arrived at their seats, Patty found herself somehow with Renée to her right and Allison to her left, and not long after, a gigantic plastic cup of beer was handed to her by none other than Benny, who pointed happily to his name blazoned across the side. “New souvenir cups. How do you like them?”

“Aren’t they supposed to say WooSox on them?” Patty asked, unable to hide her annoyance.

“It’s a sponsorship,” Benny said with a huff, and went to the next person. Patty looked to her left and saw that Allison was unscrewing the cap of the little single serving bottle of red wine in her hand. Benny’s name was nowhere near it.

“How’d you get wine?” Patty asked, looking around.

Allison shrugged. “Maybe Diane took pity on me,” she offered, taking a swig. “You want some?”

Patty declined, figuring beer was safer, anyway. She couldn’t get drunk as fast.

“You need anything to eat?” Renée asked from her other side, causing her to jump. “Hot dog? Personal pizza? How about you Allison?”

On being addressed by Renée, Allison, too, sat up with a jolt and looked over. “Um, yeah, I—sure.”

“Whatever’s not completely overpriced,” Patty suggested.

Allison nodded. “Yeah, same.”

Renée smiled. “I think it’s on Benny.”

“Oh, reverse that, then,” Allison said, a loud laugh escaping her. Patty looked over, and she was taking another gulp of her wine. She could see the traces of red already clinging to the inside of Allison’s lips. Allison put a hand up to her mouth self-consciously, and Patty realized she had been staring.

Patty turned to see Renée looking at both of them in turn, her eyes calculating. “Why aren’t you drinking anything?” Patty asked her, feeling like she was being watched, and she didn’t really like it.

“Someone’s gotta keep their wits about them,” Renée said, smiling. “I’ll bring back some sort of food. But no complaining if it’s not what you want," Renée let out a short laugh, "since you won't tell me."

“It’ll be fine,” Allison said, waving her hand as if shooing Renée away. Renée looked amused and jogged up the stairs to the concession area, leaving the two of them alone in their row. Most of the others had gone to find their own food or the bathroom.

Patty had a sudden interest in taking a large gulp of beer. This could be her chance.

“Are you and Renée doing okay?” Allison said, and Patty nearly spit out her beer.

“What?” Did she hear that right?

Allison looked at her, head tilted to the side, as if she were considering an imaginary scene before her. “Just seems like maybe you were—I don’t know—fighting or something.”

“What makes you say that?” Patty asked, suddenly very self-conscious.

“Well, she . . .” Allison hesitated. Being asked for details seemed to flummox her. “You two just seemed more, um, distant today.”

This was it, Patty thought. This was the opening she needed.

“Umm,” Patty began.

“Oh, it’s none of my business,” Allison said, quickly. “I should just keep—should've kept—it to myself.” She nodded. “I should have,” she said again, under her breath, as if she were convincing herself.

“How much have you had—” Patty was about to ask, then realized she was distracting, changing the subject. “No, no, actually, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Patty said, before she could change her mind. She turned slightly in her seat to better face Allison.

“You do—you did?” Allison asked, her voice full of hope in a way that Patty wasn’t sure she could live up to.

“It’s um, about Renée," Patty started. "The thing is, we're not actually—” Patty stopped. How could she put this in a way that wasn’t completely ridiculous? Shouldn’t she have come up with the words before she started talking?

“You’re . . . not,” Allison repeated, and Patty wasn’t entirely sure if Allison already understood, or if it was a question.

“We’re not,” Patty agreed, shaking her head, as if Allison had repeated the exact truth. Allison, too, was shaking her head, as if in a mirror. 

“Not what?” A voice behind Patty said. She thought it was Renée and turned to glare when she realized it was, in fact Susan, the one from the book club, who Patty had barely acknowledged all week. Which may have been rude. 

“Oh, they’re not going to the after party at Benny’s restaurant tonight,” Allison said, filling in Patty’s words for her. Patty looked at her, trying to figure out if she had, in fact, understood. If she was covering for them. But Allison immediately looked away.

“Yeah, nope, not tonight. I think I’m getting plenty to drink right here,” Patty said, taking another sip of beer. The chances she'd still be standing by then were looking slim at this point.

“Aww, too bad. But we still have the whole game ahead of us,” Susan said, sitting down in the seats directly above them, taking a slurp of a large, bright red frozen drink in a clear plastic cup with Benny’s written in letters, icicles hanging from them.

“Does that have alcohol in it?” Allison asked her.

“This? Yeah, I think it’s some kind of Smirnoff concoction Benny is trying out. There's a full bar up there.” Susan smiled. Patty wrinkled her nose.

“Oh, never mind,” Allison said, and she took another big gulp of wine.

—

Patty had no idea what was going on in the game, but she was having fun not paying attention. Laughing with Allison. Trying to avoid knowing looks from Renée. By the sixth inning, Patty had slowed up on the drinks, not only to keep her balance on the stairs, but because she had been on about ten trips to the bathroom already. And every time she left her seat she had to squeeze past one side or the other. The first time, she had decided that going past Renée was the safer option. But no sooner had Patty slipped past, doing an awkward little dance around Renee to avoid touching her, when Patty looked up to see that Allison was giving the two of them a blatantly curious look. So Patty changed it up and went to move past Allison the next time around.

Which was a mistake all its own. The loose thread at the calf of her ripped pant leg got caught on the back of the chair in front of Allison, and Patty became stuck, momentarily, pressed entirely up against Allison, who had stood up to let her through. 

And instead of laughing it off, which would have been the reasonable reaction, Allison had looked down slowly, and back up again, staring at Patty with an intense but vacant stare that Patty assumed was caused by inebriation. Half confusion, half . . . Patty wasn't sure, exactly, but it made those flutterings in her gut all the worse. When the man sitting in front of Allison had managed to free the thread, Patty was ready to pick Allison up with both hands and move her out of the way, but as soon as Patty put a hand up to the waist of Allison’s jeans, Allison had visibly jolted. Panicking, Patty had nearly knocked over the rest of the row of fans, refreshments and all, as she walked quickly past. 

Every subsequent time, Patty had waited for a group to go. Safety in numbers, and all that. She was just back from such an outing, most of the others had decided to stay by the bar and grab drinks, when she realized that Allison was not in her seat, and she had an easy time getting back to sit down. Sometimes luck went her way. Chance. Whatever. 

As Patty lowered herself gingerly into her seat, still not sober enough, Renée, sitting calmly beside her, started to laugh. Low, at first, and then more loudly, her smile stretching across her face in a kind of a threat, like a hyena looking at an injured baby lion.

Patty turned and gave her the glare that she missed out on earlier. 

“Having fun?” Renée asked. Was that popcorn in her hand? Of course she had popcorn.

“Off and on,” Patty said, through gritted teeth.

“You tell her, yet?”

“Actually, I started to,” Patty said, holding her head high.

“Started to?”

“I think she understood me.” Patty felt good about it. 

“What did you tell her?”

“I said that we were not—” Patty motioned with her hand between the two of them.

“Not what?” Renée’s eyes sparkled.

Patty nodded her head to accompany the hand motion.

“Yeah, but what did you say?”

Patty's mouth set in a straight line. Damn it.

“So you didn’t tell her?” The look Renée was giving was so disappointed principal of her. 

“I was interrupted.” Patty couldn’t help that, after all.

Renée managed not to smile at that. “I'm impressed that you tried,” she said, her face losing any remaining marks of amusement or faux disappointment.

“I do think she understood what I was saying.”

“You probably should make sure.” 

“Yes, thank you for that important advice.” Patty rolled her eyes.

Renée looked up at the scoreboard. “Oh, you know, I have to go talk to someone,” she said, getting up out of her seat. “I might not be back until the seventh inning stretch, or, you know, whatever.”

“Okay. You have work to do?” Patty wondered at Renée’s dedication to working at a baseball game. But she would work from anywhere. 

“Of a sort,” Renée said, cryptically. She was always extra careful about confidentiality and all that. 

“Tell Tammy I said hi,” Patty said, not knowing what came over her.

Renée laughed, harder than Patty thought was necessary. “Okay,” she said. “Don’t get in trouble while I’m gone.”

As Renée walked away, Patty felt that someone had sat down on her other side. It was Allison. Who else?

“Hey,” Allison said. 

“You want another little bottle of wine?” Patty said, getting up as if to go get her one, afraid that the relative emptiness of the seats might put Allison in a mood to ask more questions, even while knowing that things needed to be said.

“Oh, no, no, I’m plenty good,” Allison said, grabbing Patty’s forearm to keep her in place. “Stay here and keep me company.”

Patty looked down at her arm. “Okay,” she said, lowering herself slowly back into her seat. Allison’s hand did not let go, but stayed on her arm as she sat. Allison’s fingers began to play with the end of the cuff on Patty's thin flannel shirt, messing with the button, pushing it through the eyelet and back out again. “What’re you doin?” Patty asked, a nervous edge to her voice that she couldn’t help.

Allison looked down at Patty’s wrist, where Patty’s eyes now focused, and she looked confused, like her hand was not under her own conscious control. Without taking her hand away, Allison looked up to meet Patty’s eye. “Do you think—do you think I could move back?”

“Back?”

“You know, move back in, like before?” Allison asked.

“Well that’s—” Patty wanted to say “unexpected.” But then she realized it wasn’t just unexpected. It was impossible. “But Neil—he moved back in a few months ago.” Goddamnit, Neil. Goddamnit, Renée.

“Oh,” Allison said, removing her hand from Patty’s wrist. 

Patty grabbed it back. “But—hey—” she said, managing to capture two of Allison’s fingers, and keeping the whole hand there, resting in Patty’s on the arm rest between them. “If you need a place to stay, you can always stay," Patty managed to say. "With me.”

“I—I think I want to come back. To Worcester,” Allison said. 

It was what Patty wanted to hear, but she was confused about how it was possible. “But what about your job? What about flying all over the world?”

Allison’s mouth turned up, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t know, it all seems so—” she said. “I’d rather—”

Suddenly, there was a change in music from the uptempo beats and organ jingles that had been marking the changes in batters, and an old love song started over the speakers. Allison and Patty looked up. It was the the kiss cam. Up on the giant video screen in left field. Patty looked back at Allison. “What were you saying?”

“Hey, look! You two are on the screen!” It was Susan, still behind them, who could be seen, as well, partially obstructed by a garish red heart and pink lettering. Patty looked down at their hands, still together, and looked over at the big screen. There they were, both staring, wide-eyed and scared, at the camera. Hands clasped. Shit. Needing to get that image out of her mind, Patty went to remove her hand but found that it was stuck, somehow. She looked at Allison for help.

What she saw nearly made her faint. Allison was looking at her intently. No, not at her. At her mouth. But she made no other movement. Patty thought she could hear some laughter from the seats around them, a few shouts of “oh, come on, just do it,” from somewhere else in the crowd. Time seemed to be moving very slowly. Thinking that she might have imagined it, Patty let herself look over at Allison again, but it was the same look. And then Allison's eyes looked up and met Patty’s.

“Oh, ha! They gave up!” Susan said, above them, her narration the only thing keeping Patty tethered to reality. “You know you can just give her a peck on the cheek if it's awkward,” she said. “They usually move on pretty quickly.”

Recovering somewhat, Patty let out a slight laugh and watched as the camera panned to a few others. “Funny,” she said, slowly, looking back at Allison, expecting a smile or a laugh to replace the intense look of moments earlier.

But instead, Patty saw something else. 

Allison was still staring, as if caught in some kind of trance.

“Are you okay?” Patty found herself asking, afraid that if there wasn't something wrong then the real explanation was more than Patty could handle right then.

“Mhm,” Allison said, nodding, and looking down at Patty's mouth again, and—was she leaning in?

“Oh, they're back,” Susan said, laughing, behind them. “Might as well give ‘em a show. That's what they're looking for, after all.” And Patty looked over at the screen, there they were, the two of them, outlined again by the heart. And there was Allison, to her left, focused only on Patty, not even looking at the screen. A curious feeling crept into Patty's consciousness. What if I just gave in? she thought. Would that be so terrible?

Then Patty, eyes still on that giant screen, saw that Renée had silently returned to her right. She was standing, looking back at the stairwell—apparently with no idea what was going on. 

Patty knew what she would do, after all. She stood up. She had to do something.

The whoops of the crowd were instantaneous.

Chapter Text

Allison knew it wasn’t happening to her, but it felt like it was. She had never felt so outside of her own body before, locked in her mind, watching, but also there. Patty had just been looking at her—and she had been so sure that it would happen—that when it did, Allison had felt it as wholly as if it had been her own mouth, her own lips, her own body pressed up against Patty.

But it wasn’t. Patty was standing a foot away and it was Renée standing, leaning into her, next to that. Renée, whose posture was oddly slack, her hands up, gently pushing outwards, not with true force—not as drastic as that. But as moments passed, the hands relaxed, turned back inwards, grabbed the fronts of Patty’s flannel. Allison could feel it there in her own fingers as she stood up next to two of them, her hands balled into fists mirroring Renée’s, pulled in towards her own shirt. It was as if she could feel Patty’s fingers in her hair, her breath on her top lip, her tongue . . . 

And then suddenly, a forearm slammed into her back, and she was wrenched free, she felt ice water on her back, and she stumbled forward her hands catching herself, tugging the back of Patty’s shirt, pulling it down her back. She could see Patty’s shoulder blades underneath the thin straps of the tank top she had on beneath her flannel, and Allison reached up, to adjust it, when the cold on her back snapped her back to reality again. 

Patty had stopped, had begun to turn, and Allison stammered an apology, turned immediately and somehow made her way past the half dozen bodies in her way. 

“Allison!” she could hear behind her, but it wasn’t Patty’s voice, and she kept going, up the steps, past the usher, past the full bar, past the condiment stand, past the entrance to the women’s bathroom—she wasn’t sure where she was going except away. “Allison!” she heard again, and the voice was getting closer, so she sped up, almost breaking into a jog until she realized she was running out of real estate and the only place she could go was outside of the stadium. Her bag, her ticket were at her seat. She couldn’t leave now. She stopped, still facing away from the direction she came, hands on her knees, her breath coming fast now.

“Hey, Allison,” a voice said softly. It was Renée. Why was it always Renée running after her?

“I don’t want to talk right now,” Allison said. To you, she added, silently, I don’t want to talk to you right now.

“Are you okay? I saw that guy run into you.”

She saw him? Allison scoffed. She was in no position to see anything.

“Well, I saw what happened afterward,” Renée added, as if reading Allison’s mind. “And the rest of it—I’m not sure what that was.”

Allison let out a laugh of derision. “As if you have to explain.”

“Well, I think I kinda do, actually.” Renée’s voice sounded concerned. “That isn’t how I planned it.”

“Isn’t how you planned it? What does that even mean?” Allison felt a wave of lightheadedness go through her and put her hand to her head, feeling suddenly fuzzy and confused. Why was Renée here? Where was Patty?

“I just—well, I guess I’m out of my depth here. I—I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Allison was missing something, she knew she was. But Renée and Patty, there was always something weird about them, always something she felt outside of, like they were always watching her, waiting to see what she would do. It could make a person crazy.

“I—maybe you should talk to Patty. I don’t—I don’t even know why I’m here. But—but do you need another shirt or—?”

Allison felt her back, the shirt soaked through, but luckily it was truly ice water, not some sweet sticky substance, and it felt good, felt refreshing. The night was still hot. She desperately wanted to jump into a cold pool, to swim twenty laps, to let her mind wander away from whatever had just happened, whatever weird relationship hiccup Patty and Renée were having that resulted in their strange ups and downs. And, boy, the ups were worse than Allison thought. “My shirt’s okay,” she said. “Thank you,” she added, wanting to be gracious, but sounding clipped. Renée, while confusing, didn’t seem to be acting out of malice.

“Is there anything I can do?” Renée asked her again, softly.

And Allison knew, very well, that she couldn’t sit back down next to Patty after that. “Could you get my bag?”

“Oh, sure, where—?”

“I left it under my seat,” Allison said.

“Ah,” Renée responded, biting her lip. “Yeah, I can get that. Will you be here?”

Allison saw some tables a few yards away. “I’m gonna get some water and sit over there,” she said. “No rush.” Renée nodded. Allison rested her head down on her arms. She thought about Diane, who had been with Billy at the stadium clubhouse. Diane, who had all but called her out at breakfast yesterday. Allison just hoped she hadn’t seen all that. 

—

As the ninth inning wound down, Allison put on her sunglasses and tried to sneak past her group’s section, moving instead towards the clubhouse to grab Diane. She poked her head through the doorway and did her best to wave Diane over. 

Diane, who was sitting on a high top chair with Billy’s arm around her, did a double take, and, realizing it was Allison, hopped down and joined her in the doorway. “What is it, sweets?”

“Can I have a ride back to the hotel?”

Diane looked at her like she was drunk. “Just take the shuttle, hun, it’s going to stop there before it heads over to Benny’s.”

“I—I don’t want to go on the shuttle,” Allison said slowly.

“Okay.” Diane said, waiting for an additional explanation.

“I—it’s a little loud on there, and I don’t want or need to have anything else to drink, or—”

“Okay, hon, but we just have the backseat of that car—”

“Please,” Allison said, “I can sit up front with the driver.”

Diane looked at her, sadly. “Does this have something to do with all that hubbub during the top of the 7th?”

“Yeah, I, um,” Allison put her hand to her back, “I think I might have pulled a muscle in my back when that guy ran into me,” she hobbled a little, to sell it. “I don’t think those shuttle seats will be good for me.”

“Right,” Diane said, squeezing Allison’s shoulder. “A little peace and quiet will do you good.”

“Yes, exactly,” Allison smiled. 

Diane walked back over to Billy, seemingly explaining the situation, and he looked over sympathetically. Allison wasn’t sure if Diane bought her explanation, but she was helping, and that was all Allison could ask.

—

A couple hours later, closing the door of her hotel room, Allison put her hair up and grabbed her towel, heading for the back elevators that led down to the pool. Since she arrived at the hotel, she had never seen anyone at the pool at this hour. It was open late, a swim-at-your-own risk situation, and it had been a lifesaver. It was as if when the water washed over her, she could cleanse her mind of the buzzing that had taken up residence all day and night since she arrived. No, since the day after she arrived. The only other time she had been so free of it had been the night she fell asleep on Patty’s lap. In the office of that goddamn detective. But after that experience, the buzzing had somehow gotten worse. 

Renée. The buzzing reminded her. She loved Renée, she did, but she couldn’t help but wish Renée were miles away—wish Renée had never entered their orbit again. Allison knew it wasn’t Renée’s fault. If it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else. Patty wouldn’t have been alone forever, despite Allison’s wishes. She knew that now.

And there was that voice in the back of Allison’s mind that told her that she, herself, might not have been left alone forever, either. Even if she did everything she could to block out all possibilities. She didn’t want a relationship, she didn’t want any of it, but just like Kevin on the worst day of her life, other people just didn’t care what she really wanted. They would have their way, wouldn’t they? They would keep living their lives and disturbing hers.

And as if to prove her right, she could spot, through the bushes, someone lounging on one of the pool chairs, facing away from the path,  obscured by the wooden slats. Figured. She couldn’t even have the goddamn pool to herself. Never alone. Someone else was here for her relaxation time. But she would ignore that. She would dive in and she would do her laps, and she would just block the world out. 

Without a glance at the disturber of her peace (maybe if unacknowledged, they would disappear?), Allison set her towel down, kicked off her sandals and robe, pulled her goggles over her eyes, and dove in, kicking down into the water, remembering how far she used to be able to go without breathing, without having to return to the surface, to the contrasting resistance of the air. Part of her skill back then, back in high school, what made her so fast, was her ability to stay under just long enough that she wasn't penalized, and to morph seamlessly into her stroke. And this time she felt like she was doing it again, angling upward, her hand breaking the surface, flowing into the freestyle—stroke, stroke, stroke, lifting her head for breath, glancing up and to the side, but of course there was no one swimming against her, just the lone figure standing at the side of the pool.

Wait. Standing?

She halted mid-stroke, turning, upright and treading water in the middle of the pool, pulling her goggles up over her eyes and looking over.

“Hey,” Patty said. She stood there, barefoot, her jeans rolled up mid-calf, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, shirt unbuttoned and loose otherwise. The tank top she had been wearing earlier was bunching at the waist from when she had been sitting.

“Hey,” Allison sputtered, swimming to the ladder on the opposite side of the pool, trying to climb out somehow without being looked at, without really being seen. “I’ll let you alone,” she called over her back. “I didn’t see you.”

“Where are you going?” Patty asked, loud enough to hear.

“I didn’t know you were—” Allison said, slowly walking around the pool where Patty was standing.

“You weren’t bothering me,” Patty said, strangely forthright.

“Yes, but you—”

“I can go,” Patty offered, turning to walk back to her chair, where she went to slide on the first of a pair of birkenstocks.

“Since when do you wear sandals?” Allison called over.

“Since I have to walk across a gravel path to get back to the hotel.” Patty went to put the second one on.

“No,” Allison said, maybe a little too forcefully.

“I'm not walking across the grass, if that's what you mean.”

“I meant, don’t go.” She did mean it.

“I thought you wanted to be alone.”

“I do. I did. Not from—you can stay.” Allison was thrown into confusion again. This time it wasn’t the alcohol. It had long since worn off. Why was Patty at the pool?

“Go ahead and do your laps. I’ll just sit.” Patty went and sat down.

“I—”

“Please,” Patty said, her hands gesturing for Allison to go ahead. And for whatever reason, Allison believed she would simply sit and wait. For what?

So Allison went back to her starting point, dove back in, and slowly she swam, one way, then the next, pushing off from the wall, doubling back. She finished her laps—the world outside far away, the sound of the water rushing past her ears, the cool of evaporation on her skin in soothing contrast to the still-warm night air. She knew Patty was there, watching her, but that was okay. It was just Patty, right? It was Patty.

Her body was tired when she finally got out of the pool and toweled off, but it felt good, relaxed. Patty made no motion to get up, she simply sat there, watching. Allison looked over as she wrapped her robe back around her, her hair still dripping from the end of her ponytail, her suit still damp and clinging. Patty was still watching, her face calm, like she could sit there forever. Like she had nowhere to be and no one to get back to.

“Isn’t Renée waiting for—” Allison started to say, but then she stopped. Patty just shook her head and Allison decided it wasn’t what she really wanted to ask, anyway. “Why are you here?” she asked, instead.

“It’s a nice night for the pool. Hot,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“But you aren’t getting in.”

Patty smirked. “Yet.”

“Where’s your swimsuit?” Allison asked, knowing full well that Patty didn’t really swim. She wasn’t sure Patty had ever been swimming. 

Patty casually went over to the side of the pool, sat down on the edge, and swung her feet in, swishing them back and forth. “See? Now I’m in.”

Allison chuckled. Patty took her hand and patted the concrete next to her. Allison went and sat down, adjusting her robe as the fabric caught against the concrete, and, eventually, she just pulled it down to lay around her body, the warm air with its occasional cool breeze feeling too good against her skin and hair to want to stay so wrapped up. She leaned back on her arms and looked up. She could see stars, for once, the sky being so clear that a few were visible even with the glow of Worcester nearby. She didn’t have a clue what any of them were—some constellations or other. Maybe some planetery alignment signaling the moon was in Sagittarius, or something. Good omens until the end of the week. She could only hope. Whatever it meant, they were beautiful.

“Stargazing?” Patty said, looking over as Allison looked skyward.

“Yeah,” Allison said, truthfully.

“Want to be back in the sky?” Patty asked, her voice a little softer and more hesitant.

“If it were always like this, maybe,” Allison said, thinking that might be true.

“You got over your fear then?”

Allison looked over, wondering if Patty could possibly mean what she thought she meant. “What?”

“Of flying?”

“Oh." That one. "Yeah, I guess I did. I guess once you've already died it kinda goes away.”

Patty smiled, not quite laughing, but acknowledging the joke. “That's good, probably. Facing your fears.” She nodded slowly. “Or whatever,” she added, like she knew she was getting to close to some kind of truth and wanted to tread carefully. 

Allison nodded, too—or she did in her mind. She wasn't sure if her head really moved or not. Patty wasn't looking at her anyway.

Patty was silent for a while. “Where’d you go after the game?” she asked, carefully, still looking off in the distance.

“Diane and Billy gave me a ride back here,” Allison said. “My back was hurting,” she added, by way of explanation.

“I guess it’s doing better?” Patty asked, gesturing towards the pool.

Allison laughed nervously. “Yeah, it was a false alarm.” She kept her eyes skyward. “Mostly embarrassment,” she ventured, turning and looking Patty in the eye. “I felt kinda stupid.” She wasn’t sure why she was admitting this. What was it about being alone at the pool at night that allowed her to say what she really meant?

Patty had a sort of wry smile as she responded, “But I know, and you know, you really aren’t stupid.” There was something in her look as she said this. It meant more than it might seem.

“No, no, sometimes, I am pretty stupid,” Allison said. “Just not about sports trivia,” she said. She laughed lightly. “Yankees suck.” She kinda nudged Patty’s thigh with her fist, touching her lightly as she had once done, to connect, to show they were on the same team. To ask if they were, maybe. Even now? Even still?

Allison’s hand retreated again to the space between their thighs and sat there, alone. But Patty’s hand soon reached out and took it, holding it there between the two of them. She didn’t say anything else. Allison’s hand had never felt so sensitive. It whirred, it hummed, as though with electricity. She thought she could feel Patty's pulse. Or was that her own?  Nervously, with her other hand, she wrung the water from her ponytail so that it dripped down her shoulder.

“This is what got us in trouble earlier,” Allison looked down and joked, hoping to diffuse the whole thing, all while keeping her hand there, acknowledging that she was okay with it. She would always be okay with it. Her hand was twitching, wanting—maybe to grasp harder. Hold on tighter. 

“Trouble?” Patty asked, perhaps being deliberately dense, not reacting to what Allison felt must be the blaring siren of her anxiety.

“The cameraman thought we were together,” Allison offered, smiling, laughing a little, like that was crazy. Like no one would make that mistake. Least of all her. “I guess,” she added, like maybe she hadn't been thinking about it all evening—all day—after all.

Patty smiled, clicking her tongue in that way that she did. That way that Allison couldn't look away from. Allison shivered and her hand tensed, gripping harder, like it had been wanting to. Patty’s face went from amused to concerned. “You cold?”

“Oh you know me, I’m always cold.” She was actually a bit warm.

Patty released Allison's hand, and reached back to get the robe that was laying around Allison, pulling it up over her shoulders. “No wonder, if you don’t wear any clothes,” she said as she looked at the front of the robe, adjusting the sides very precisely.

Thinking that Patty was joking, or perhaps embarrassed by her sitting there in her swimsuit, Allison went to pull her robe more tightly around her, but realized Patty’s hands were still holding the sides slightly open, and Patty herself was looking down, now, not at the robe, but within it, a smile of appreciation gracing her features. An unabashed smile. Leering, almost. “Patty?” Allison said, questioning, suddenly self-conscious. 

Patty looked up, holding eye contact, hands still on Allison’s robe, with a slight pull, bringing Allison forward, bending closer. “Yes?”

“You’re—” Allison looked down at herself—what was exposed—and looked back up. 

“I’m what?” Patty asked, her features still, eyes locked on Allison's. Patty's fingers curled further around the fabric of the robe, as if to remind Allison she was still being held in place. 

Fucking me with your eyes was the phrase that popped into Allison’s head. The next moment she wanted the phrase back out of her head again. She remembered the night with Ty, remembered thinking, “Patty has looked at me like this before” and wondering if she were mistaken. This time she was not mistaken. “You’re with Renée!” was all Allison could say, not willing to give words to what Patty had been doing. Afraid she might admit it was exactly what she wanted Patty to be doing. Or close.

“Not right now, I’m not,” Patty said, still with an enigmatic smile, still with her hands on the robe. And then, slowly, but with unalterable momentum, one hand slid forward, around Allison’s back, and Allison turned to let it, barely aware of what her own body was doing, until her right leg, still dangling in the pool, was hitting up against Patty’s left. Their feet were touching, at first by accident, and then, somehow, on purpose.

“You’re not,” Allison repeated, and it wasn’t a question, it was a statement of fact. Renée was not there, and Patty’s face was now inches from her own. Patty reached inside Allison's robe and wiped away a droplet of water from Allison's stomach with a finger, her hand hovering. Allison's breath caught. This time there was nowhere else they could go, their legs were already entwined. Closing her eyes, Allison felt Patty’s lips brush hers, and it was like reliving a memory. But this time it was happening to her, it was happening, right at that moment. A rather strangled sound came out her throat, and afraid that Patty might misinterpret it, Allison leaned in further, and she could feel Patty laughing into her mouth, like she knew, she already knew exactly what Allison wanted all along. Knew at the game, knew again right now. Allison let herself get lost in the feeling. Someone knew what she wanted.

This time it was her mouth, her tongue, her body somehow pressed up against Patty’s, and even more so because there was barely anything between them. Patty’s hand that had been hovering inside her robe, started tracing swirls on the skin just below her ribcage. Allison instinctively pressed her torso forward further, leaning in until she realized that she had practically knocked Patty over. She adjusted her body to Patty's side, so they were now laying on the concrete, facing one another. Patty, her eyes laughing, was biting the inside of her lip and Allison couldn't help but lean in again—

When Patty, who seemed slightly more aware than Allison, put a finger up, as if to say wait. She, as gracefully as she could, pushed herself off the hard ground by the pool, and, once standing, pulled Allison up with her, dragging her back and away from the water.  Allison didn’t know where she was being taken until Patty sat down in a pool chair, leaning back and pulling Allison’s arm, inviting her to join until Allison kneeled above her, her knee planted between Patty’s legs, returning Patty’s intent stare.

Hovering above Patty, left arm propped against the side of the chair, praying it was well-constructed, Allison reached her other arm inside Patty’s flannel shirt, around to her back, at first, as she did her best to let their mouths meet again, if only briefly, then moved her arm up to Patty’s shoulders as her lips met Patty's neck, pulling first one sleeve down Patty's arm and shifting her weight to pull the other as Patty let out a soft moan. Now they’d be on even footing, as Allison’s robe had somehow been discarded on the short walk. Rid of her pesky sleeves, Patty pulled Allison to her again, Allison's bracing arm collapsing her fully on top of Patty, Patty's one hand pulling on the small of her back, the other working its way through her hair, holding her head in place to continue their kiss, destroying Allison's ponytail and irredeemably tangling her hair in the process. Allison let her own hands roam up and down Patty's sides, grasping whatever fabric or skin that they could. The sounds of the world were muted, there seemed to be a rushing in her ears like she was back in the water, a surge through her body like she was in the last leg of a race, five strokes ahead of her competition. Patty's hand on her back had roamed down her leg and was pulling it forward, effectively intertwining the two of them. This time Allison was sure that was her own pulse. Patty, her mind said, as she took a quick breath. Patty. Did she say it out loud? And somewhere, from the distant recesses, her mind added Where the fuck did this come from?

And then Allison remembered. The reason why this was so unexpected, the reason she had been okay with just friends, why she had wanted to gag Molly with a butterscotch waffle for giving her hope. What the fuck was Patty doing? Allison jerked upright, stood up. “Patty!” She wanted it to sound appalled. Instead, it sounded breathy and ragged and raw.

Patty smiled again, that lazy, self-assured smile. She sat up, reached her hand out to Allison’s waist, and gently pulled her forward.

“Stop that!” 

Allison must have been more convincingly upset this time, because Patty’s face changed. Her eyes went from cloudy to clear. She dropped her hand from Allison's side. “What is it?”

“You’re with Renée!” 

“I just said I’m not,” Patty said, exasperated, shaking her head.

“Yeah, maybe she’s not here right now, but—”

“Yeah, and there’s a reason for that.”

“What the hell, Patty?”

“What’s really wrong?” Patty’s face changed, her eyes flashed with suspicion.

“Renée is what’s really wrong. Your girlfriend, Renée. Who's probably sitting in your room right now, wondering where you are.”

“Maybe she's there,” Patty admitted, “but she's probably not wondering.” What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“And you see nothing wrong with that?” 

“We're not together!”

“You’re not?” It was a question again.

“If she's wondering at all, she's probably hoping exactly what just happened happened. ”

“What?” Allison wasn’t sure that made sense.

“We’re. not. together. I can do this—we can do this—we're free to do this whenever we might want.” Patty raised an eyebrow. “If you want,” she added, with a face that said and it seems like you do.

Allison’s mind was swimming. Unfortunately, unlike her body, it didn't glide smoothly through the water. So Patty and Renée weren’t together. This—whatever this was—it was all okay. But how? Why? “If you’re—” Allison started, hesitant. She sat down on a chair a few feet away, not trusting herself nearer. Patty still sat there in the tank top and rolled jeans, now leaning forward off the side of the deck chair, elbows resting on her knees. Allison almost lost her train of thought. A shout from elsewhere outside brought her back to reality. “If you’re not together, why are you here—together? Why is she—all over you?” Allison, needing to occupy her hands, tore the hair tie awkwardly from the mess of her ponytail and began to brush her fingers through her hair frantically trying to unknot it.

Patty looked away, no longer self-assured. “We were pretending.” When she looked back over at Allison, her hair wild around her, she couldn’t help but add, “Do you want me to do that?” She held out her hand for the hair tie.

Allison tried to ignore the offer, knowing full well what it felt like for Patty to fix her hair. “Pretending?” The word ricocheted around in Allison's brain. So Molly had heard right? Quickly, she finished her best messy bun under the circumstances and put her hands firmly on her hips, not wanting to draw Patty's attention away from the conversation. She wished she had her damn robe. “But that—today at the baseball park, that was no pretending.” If that was pretending then what was this? 

Patty’s face turned red. Was she embarrassed? Did she still have feelings for Renée?

“I don’t think I understand,” Allison said, shaking her head. 

Patty was silent for a moment. “I don’t know how to explain it,” Patty finally said, unhelpfully.

“Can you try?” Allison asked. She was starting to wish she had left when she discovered Patty standing at the edge of the pool. To have everything in her grasp, not just a reconciliation, but . . . all this. And now it seemed . . . gone again. Or about to be.

“Yeah,” was all Patty said. “I didn't want—I didn’t want to have to explain.”

Allison’s face fell. “Can you do it anyway?” Nothing made sense and Patty was refusing to provide any clarity. Yet, Allison sat there, expectantly. Patty’s eyes were darting around, like she was trying to figure out how to start. Or how to escape. 

Suddenly, the voices Allison had heard earlier came closer. “There she is!” one said. It was definitely Molly. 

“Of course,” said a man’s voice. Whose? “Should’ve known she’d be at the pool.” There was laughter, a little stilted.

And suddenly Allison felt herself being scooped up from the chair by large, muscular arms—her head turned towards the owner of those arms, a kiss planted on her forehead. 

“Surprise,” Ty said. He looked at her, a question in his eyes. A wave of cold washed over her at the sight of him, like she finally realized she was still effectively covered in pool water. She shivered. “Where’s your towel?” he asked

She nodded towards the end of the pool and, unable to direct him, asked to be put down. He complied with a smile. Molly stood there, a curiously pained look on her face. Once on the ground, Allison turned back to Patty. Allison had a feeling she wasn't going to get the answer she wanted tonight. Not with this little interruption. What an awkward introduction this will be. Hey Patty, this is the guy that made me realize I'm in love with you. 

But, the chair where Patty had sat was empty. Allison scanned the pool deck but the birkenstocks, too, had vanished. Patty was gone.

Chapter Text

“Why are you all wet?” Renée asked, setting her phone down as Patty stormed into the room. 

Patty looked over, her eyes wide, and then, looking down at her clothes, noticing that her tank top and jeans were splotched darker in places, the shirt over them, less so, an expression of understanding dawned. “Oh.”

Renée waited, raising an eyebrow. In the end, she was glad Tammy had hung up when she did. This would have been an unfortunate interruption to their conversation. Tammy would have never let her hear the end of it.

Renée waited, but Patty provided no explanation. “I saw the real Paris,” she said, instead, her voice annoyed, but in a way that masked something deeper.

“What? Quick trip?” Renée was puzzled. “Fall into the ocean?”

“No, Mr. Paris. He's here.”

“Does he have a name?”

Patty shrugged.

“Then how do you know?”

“He just picked up Allison and swung her around like a sack of potatoes.”

“Do people swing around—”

Patty's glare made her stop short.

“Okay, I'm sorry. So some guy comes in and throws Allison around—that doesn't sound very, um . . .”

“He picked her up in her swimsuit without a second thought.” 

Renée had a ray of understanding of her own. “She didn't happen to be swimming recently, did she?”

Patty scoffed.“Why else would she be in a swimsuit?”

Renée smiled, knowing she'd be punished for this trap. “Must've gotten him all wet.”

“Probably,” Patty said, dismissively, when she stopped abruptly, and her face changed.

There she got it, Renée thought.

“Shut up,” was all Patty said.

“So you ran away before you could be introduced?”

Patty said nothing.

“Hey, sit down,” Renée said, figuring she had done enough razzing. “What the hell happened?”

Patty reluctantly sat down on the edge of the bed. “I told her. Very clearly.”

Renée wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not, given the circumstances. “And how did she . . . take it?” Seeing Patty's face, Renée wished she had been even more careful with the phrasing. What the fuck had happened? “You know what I mean,” she added for good measure.

“She was skeptical,” Patty said, not meeting Renée's eye.

“Why?” 

“Ummm, the game,” Patty said with some emphasis.

“Ah, yes.” Renée had been trying not to think about that. “I did suspect that might not help you.”

“Oh, sure, now you say that.”

“Well, that seemed obvious.”

“‘Go for it, Patty.’ ‘It was obvious she wanted to kiss you, Patty.’ You fail to mention ‘You fucked it up already and she'll never believe you, Patty.’”

Renée thought about what she had said. She did mention that kissing her in public, on the kiss cam—for all the world to see—might be misinterpreted, right? “Didn’t I?”

“You said she might be a little confused.”

“See?” Sounds like I was right.

“You said to make sure she wasn't confused.”

“Yeah, like maybe you should talk it over, explain what happened.”

“Oh.”

“What did you do?”

“We've never been great at . . . talking about things. Directly.”

“So you . . .”

“Figured I'd, um, show her.”

Renée’s eyes widened and she looked at Patty, newly considering the wet patches on her clothing. Even as she had teased Patty, she hadn't truly believed it. Had she? “Ah,” was all Renée could say. She was—for once in her life—speechless.

“What?!” Patty asked, voice accusing, no doubt wondering at Renée’s lack of words.

“Nothing!” Renée didn't want to laugh. “I'm just—really?” This was . . . “How'd that go?”

Patty’s face transformed from its usual passivity for a moment into the most heartbreaking look of longing before morphing back into the usual mask.

“Ah,” Renée said, again.

Patty just nodded.

“Well. That's something, isn't it?”

“For me.”

“But not for her?”

“I don't know! It's Allison.”

“You probably know her better than you think you do.”

Patty shook her head. “Not anymore.”

“She's that different?”

“She's capable of changing. She did once and she's done it again. Even what . . . just happened . . . I don't know where that came from. Even as it was . . . happening . . . I had no idea how you could be right. I mean, I was there, and you were right, but, I . . .”

Renée sighed. “Maybe so, maybe she's changeable, but—you know maybe your one blindspot on her is—you never give yourself the benefit of the doubt. Or give her the benefit of the doubt about you."

“What does that even mean?”

“Well, for example—you used to call her manipulative. Like, describing how she was acting when we started dating.”

“Because she was.”

“Maybe she just . . . wanted you for herself.”

“But that's craz—”

“Is it?” Renée gave Patty a look, and Patty swallowed nervously. “Maybe she was so fucking jealous she couldn't see straight.”

Patty looked at Renée, at first angry, then, considering. She was quiet for a minute, then turned. “Fuck,” she said. After a minute, she added. “What do I do?”

“Let’s go back out there,” Renée went over to the window. “They were at the pool, right?” She looked out the window, towards the pool, and could see three people, who she realized were Allison, Molly, and a taller man in between the two of them, a casual arm around both briefly, before his arms dropped to his sides. “Hold on. Molly was out there, too?” She turned back to Patty, who had shifted herself to look over, but hadn't gotten up.

“She brought him, I think.”

“Wait, what did Molly tell us the other day?”

“What do you mean?”

“The bartender, who got them the jobs—she said Allison started something with him, but I didn't get the impression he was some big jet setter. Or that it was serious. It's just a guy they work with. Not Mr. Paris.”

“Why is that better?”

“I just thought you were worried that she found a guy who could afford to whisk her off to Paris or whatever, and—”

“Any guy would do!”

“When compared to you?”

“Who am I?”

“Her fucking soul mate.”

“Come on. Besides, the problem is she's seeing someone. Doesn't that say something about what she wants?”

“You were with me, was she supposed to wait?”

“But I wasn't!”

“She didn't know that. You made no effort to get in touch. To tell her.” Renée grew frustrated with the circles they were talking themselves in. “I'm not entirely sure she knows that now.”

“Jesus Christ, I told her. I showed her. What the fuck does she want?”

“Guess you have to ask her.”

“But now this guy—”

“Just fucking do it.”

Patty looked taken aback at her vehemence. “If it's so easy, why don’t you do it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know what I'm talking about.”

“No, honestly, I don't.”

“Who were you on the phone with when I got here?”

“It was a work call.”

“With—”

“Tammy.” Patty raised an eyebrow at her answer. Renée was not in the mood to talk about herself. Her own situation was—tenuous, at best. “So?”

“You certainly have been working a lot for a vacation.”

“Something came up. It always does.” Renée threw her hands in the air at the futility, even while knowing it could be helped. It could almost always be helped.

“I've seen you shut people down before who interrupt your free time. This time you don't want to.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I'm just saying, tonight at the baseball game, you also went off to take a call.”

“No—no I didn’t.”

“What about ‘I'll be back by the seventh inning stretch?’ You know if you had been there in the first place, there would have been no confusion. Could've been a nice quick peck. No harm, no foul.”

“I wasn't supposed to be there at all. I gave you the perfect opportunity.”

“You gave me? Like you knew—” Patty suddenly went dead silent. “You didn't.”

Shit. “Didn't what?” Did that sound innocent enough?

“You set us up!”

“How could I do that?”

“Of all people, I should know by now, you somehow know everyone and everything. You fucking set us up! This is all your fault.”

“I didn't kiss me instead of Allison.”

“What am I supposed to do when everyone thinks I'm with you! Which was also your idea.”

“And it's working!”

“Oh, fuck that.”

“Come on, Patty. It is. This is just a little hiccup. We can—”

“I think I'm done with your help.” Patty got up and opened her suitcase, throwing stray items inside. She walked to the vanity and started collecting her things.

“Patty—don't go.”

“I can't do this. This—”

“Well, at least let me leave. This is your room, not mine.”

“Fine.”

“You're serious?”

“Get out, then.”

“Okay,” Renée silently moved to gather her things. She was thankful she hadn't spread out much, hadn't constructed her full work station. A few minutes later, she was done.

Renée sighed as she went to leave. Turning to Patty she said, “Let me know if you still want me to come to anything. I—whatever you want to do.”

Patty just nodded. Renée waited for more—some indication of her plans. But nothing came.

She returned the nod, and walked out the door.

Heading down the hall, suitcase and satchel in tow, Renée reflected. She knew she had been overplaying her hand, but she figured that the ends would justify the means. Eventually. But not before it went sour, apparently.

Realizing it was her car that she would need to use, but that the keys were still in the room, and Patty might need it, she sent Patty a quick text to say she was leaving the car and debated whether Uber was the best option to get home. 

As she entered the lobby, Molly, Allison, and the guy (what was his name again?) were standing and talking behind a large central fireplace, which wasn't on for the season. Allison was in a thin robe, carrying a towel, her hair still wet, the man's clothing seemed dry—drier than Patty's had, anyway, and Molly was standing on the other side of them, in between, looking first at one, then the other. Slowing down, Renée tried to catch what they were saying.

“No, no,” the man said, “let me check in to my own room. I—”

Molly interrupted, “But I thought—”

Allison quickly jumped in as well. “Yeah, yeah, that's better. You must be exhausted,” she looked at the man, her eyes trying to say something that her words were not, “I know I always am after a stretch like that.”

The man agreed and Molly looked confused, but she then looked towards the elevator bank and spotted Renée standing there. “Renée! Hi! Is Patty here? I saw her by the pool but didn't get to say hi before she disappeared.”

Renée wanted to laugh, or maybe cry, at the ridiculousness of the situation. She wondered why she thought she could pretend to date someone, yet somehow expected everyone else would understand immediately when it was no longer convenient to pretend. Obviously, she hadn't thought it through. “Oh, um, yeah, she's up in the room,” Renée almost said our room, but caught herself just in time.

Allison, who took a second longer to react, looked over, eyes wide at the knowledge of Patty being back in the room. “Oh, um, yeah, it was weird. She just disappeared. Did she . . . did she . . . say anything?” Allison ventured.

Renée wanted to say “go talk to her,” she wanted to say “who the hell is this guy and does Patty need to worry?” But she knew two things: this wasn’t the crowd for a frank discussion, and she had already started enough trouble. “Oh, she just got back and I have to run—work thing—so I don't know.” 

Allison's face fell, and she was looking at Renée rather closely, as if she was trying to figure something out. “I, um, well, tell her we missed her.”

Renée smiled politely, “you'll have to tell herself. Maybe at the ice rink tomorrow. I think I'm gonna have to miss it.” When Allison looked surprised, Renée looked over at the man, who had been listening with interest. “Looks like maybe there's someone who can take my place?”

Allison stepped towards the man, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards Renée. “Of course. But let me introduce you. This is Tyler—Ty. He works with Molly and I—he's a flight attendant. Happened to be in town, as it turns out. Molly just surprised me, just now.” She said surprised with emphasis. Renée looked at Molly, who seemed out of her element, in a whirl of confusion or sadness, until she caught Renée's eye, and smiled. Her face looked pained. Weird.

Renée stepped forward to shake Ty's hand. “Nice to meet you. Renée,” she was about to elaborate when Allison stepped forward again.

“—Patty’s girlfriend,” Allison said, with emphasis.

Renée tried to manage a tight smile, and Ty looked over at Allison, questioning, before returning Renée's smile and handshake.

“Ah, so you're the lucky one, then,” Ty said, cryptically.

Renée, feeling a little out of her own element, which was unusual, wasn't sure how to answer that. “Hah,” she said. “Guess . . . so.” Ty gave her an odd look, and she decided she needed to extricate herself before she could piss Patty off further. “Well, sorry, gotta run. Have fun tomorrow!” She jogged towards the door, pulling her bags. 

“Wait, why do you have your suit—” she heard Molly call from behind her, but Renée chose to pretend not to hear.

She fished her cell out of her pocket and called the one person who she knew would come, and would be the best alibi. “Hey, Tammy. Yeah, not really work-related. Could you do me a favor?”

—

“Well, here we are again,” Tammy gave Renée a wry smile from the stool next to her.

“Should we call Tim?”

“No—”

“Kidding—”

They said in unison. Renée laughed. “I should've known this would backfire spectacularly.”

“I could have told you that,” Tammy offered.

“Oh?” Renée could use a taste of her own medicine.

“Everything with those two crashes and burns eventually. You saw that house. You're lucky to get out alive.”

Wondering if Tammy was serious, Renée cocked her head until she saw a smile start on Tammy's usually serious demeanor. 

“But I'm not really joking. You get in the middle of that at your own peril.”

Renée sighed. “I was trying to help.”

Tammy raised an eyebrow, and her glass. “Here's to helping from a distance.”

Renée, her smile tight, clinked her glass and took a long swallow. “Well, thanks for the ride. And the drink.”

“You interrupted what looked to be a highly competitive late-night game of scrabble with my sister.”

“Oh, well, if you want to go back—”

Tammy shook her head. “You can interrupt any time.”

“Any time I stick my nose where it isn't wanted—or needed.”

“No, just—any time.”

I don't know that I deserve that. But I'll take it. Renée took a sip of her vodka soda.

“Is something bothering you about all this?” Tammy ventured with her characteristic mixture of candor and intensity. But also with a softer something Renée wasn't used to.

“About—?”

“About Patty? This all seems off. Why did you do this in the first place? What did you really hope would happen?”

Renée wondered what she was getting at. “I thought it might get Allison to pay attention.”

Tammy looked skeptical. “And when she inevitably didn't?”

“What do you mean?”

“Not in the way Patty wants.”

“I think you're wrong, there.”

“Here's what I see, from my end. You take Patty to the wedding, pretend to be with her, act like her girlfriend, ‘try’ to get Allison to pay attention. It inevitably fails, and voila! Who is there to catch the tears?”

Renée laughed, a little too loudly. “You couldn't be more wrong. I've already caught more than my share of tears. Nothing is happening there. Now or ever.”

Tammy shrugged. “If you say so.”

“You don't believe me.”

“You sure fooled the WooSox crowd.”

“What?”

“I saw what happened.”

Renée knew the look on her face must be ridiculous. “How?”

“Let’s just say I was curious about what you were up to, so I decided to take in a ballgame.”

Tammy, as ever, was completely serious. She didn't really know when to quit, did she? “You're something else.”

“Well, I sure would welcome an explanation. Not that it's really my business.” 

Since when does Tammy think something isn't her business? “That kiss was not meant for me.”

Tammy raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I don't know—Allison was right there. Maybe Patty has finally come around. Maybe your game is working.”

“I don't have a fucking game!” This was frustrating.

“Defensive. Mhm.” Tammy took a sip of her own drink, a smug face half hidden by the glass.

“My god—you’re worse—you're worse than me.” Renée wanted to be angry, but as she said it, she realized she was absolutely right. She was being, for lack of a better word, Renée-ed. It sucked.

Tammy sat there, a look of satisfaction on her face.

“What if I told you that I'm pretty sure Patty and Allison kissed earlier tonight. After the game.”

“Of course. Now they're using your room. I bet that's why Patty kicked you out.” 

Ah, a bit of sarcasm. “There were complications.”

“I see.”

“I doubt it, I'm not even sure I do.”

“Well, sounds like you need some consolation.” The concerned look in Tammy's eyes did not appear to be completely feigned.

“Maybe so. It sucks to be kicked out of anywhere, really. Even if you're still very wrong.”

“The Wire marathon? My place?” Tammy offered.

Renée smiled. “Kima?”

Tammy shrugged. “It's a good show.”

“Jimmy for me.”

“Gross.”

“I can't help it.” Renée smiled. “Kima's a close second though.”

“I'm in it for the excellent writing, and acting—” Renée rolled her eyes and Tammy just sat there with a do you want to or not? look on her face.

They had watched it together, all the way through.  It took them about as long as their relationship, about six months before the toll of never seeing each other, among other things, gradually pulled them apart. It had been a while. “Ah, let's do it. Let's get out of here.”

“Deal,” Tammy said. She paid the tab and they headed out. 

—

Renée woke up with her foot tingling with pins and needles, and as she did her best to get feeling back, she realized she had fallen asleep on Tammy's couch, her feet propped on the ottoman. Looking around, she saw that it was bright outside, and Tammy, too, was sleeping, or her eyes were closed, caddy-cornered from Renée on the wraparound couch, her feet also propped, inches from where Renée's had been, but her back was straight, like she would be ready to get up and go on a moment's notice. Tammy’s face, even in sleep, looked like it was trying to puzzle something out—if ever so slightly more passively than when awake. Maybe it was a cop thing. When Renée accidentally elbowed the lamp as she pulled herself upright, Tammy stirred.

“Hey,” Tammy said, her voice ever-so-slightly raspier than normal. 

“I guess I fell asleep.”

“We made it through episode four when you drifted off. I was scrolling through some things and was too lazy to move, so I just . . .”

Renée smiled. “Don't you have work to do?”

“Nah, I'm sleeping with the boss,” Tammy said, and Renée felt herself blushing. Damn it.

“So you can stop working,” Renée said, trying to recover.

“As can you, it turns out.” Tammy smirked. They were both the same. 

“With good enough reason.” Renée shrugged. She hadn’t thought about work—or the wedding—since they had arrived the night before.

“I hardly think this counts.”

Renée looked around. Tammy's new place was bright and colorful. She had recently moved back to Worcester fully, after spending time elsewhere. This was not the drab but classy beige of her last place. It had a personality. “Doesn’t it?”

“Maybe it does.”

Renée smiled.

“Would you like to get some lunch?” Tammy asked

“I would. Can I use your shower?”

“You look charming,” Tammy said with a smile.

“Scary thought,” Renée responded, putting a hand up to fix her hair. She hadn't even thought about it. Tammy had looked as put-together as ever, no doubt she hadn't been asleep long. “Pretend you didn’t see me yet.”

Tammy smirked. “Nothing I haven't seen before.” She turned into the hallway leading to the kitchen. “I'll make some coffee.”

“Six years is a long time. Things change,” Renée called.

There was a little scoff from the next room, the sound of a cupboard closing. “I'll believe it when I see it,” Tammy said, just barely loud enough to hear.

It sounded like a challenge.

—

Lunch somehow turned into a walk downtown and some window shopping at the Worcester Public Market, and then, when Renée decided to actually go in and look at the crafts, some actual shopping. Which then turned into another cup of coffee and a relatively early dinner, as they passed a place that Tammy had been wanting to try. And dinner inevitably turned into after dinner drinks at the wine bar next door, which was also new. 

Pleasantly tired after all they had done, Renée leaned back in her chair. It might’ve been the wine, the soft leather upholstery, the soft jazzy music, the low lights—but she hadn't felt so relaxed in—well, she couldn't remember. She took a deep, cleansing breath and turned to Tammy. “Why do I feel like I've been playing hooky all day?” 

Tammy chuckled. “Because you finally took a day off.”

“I've been off all week.”

“No, you gave yourself an undercover assignment.”

“I did, didn't I?”

Tammy just nodded.

“Fine. You know, along those lines, I don't think we've ever spent this much time together . . . you know, consecutively. Outside of work.”

Tammy thought about it. “Even when—?”

“Even then,” Renée confirmed.

“Hmm.” Tammy's face grew thoughtful. 

“So I guess when you say I never stop working, you have a point.”

“You can see why I was so surprised you were taking off a whole week for this wedding thing.”

Renée smiled sheepishly. “That's how you know it was strictly business.”

Tammy smiled at that. “Whatever you say.”

There was a long pause. Both of them were lost in thought, or maybe their minds were blank for once, as they sipped their wine. Renée spoke again first, ready to say something she had been meaning to say for a while. “I kinda wish we had spent more time together,” Renée said. “You know, back then. It was a bit of a waste, I think.” There. She could say it out loud. She had said it. Patty didn’t know what she was talking about.

Tammy's eyes had a new light to them, and she looked like she was about to respond, maybe to agree, when Renée's phone went off. “Ah, of course. You can get that,” Tammy said with a wry smile and a nod to the phone, which had been laying face down on the table.

Oh, the irony, Renée thought. But who would be calling from the office on Friday evening? It could be Rochelle, she supposed. Rochelle had been pretty quiet all week, holding down the fort. Maybe she had a recap to provide.

But when Renée flipped the phone over to check, it was Patty. “Oh. I guess I should take this,” she shrugged an apology to Tammy and accepted the call, gently bringing the phone up to her ear.

“Hey,” she said, softly, not wanting to assume anything.

“Hey,” Patty answered, also subdued. “I should say—I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

“For kicking you out.”

“No. I—I deserved it.” As the day went on, Renée had felt more strongly how ridiculous she had been.

“Well, maybe,” Patty admitted.

“Thanks,” Renée laughed lightly.

There was a pause, and then Patty continued, her words coming haltingly. “So. Um. I wanted to ask. Um. Could you—could you come to the wedding tomorrow?”

“Well, obviously,” Renée said, hoping her sincere goodwill came through in her voice. “I promised I would, didn't I?”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn't.”

“I'll be there.”

“Could you—do you mind if you came back tonight? I said—I may have said you'd be back.” 

Renée wondered who she had told. “Like, when?”

“Soon?” Patty said, a crack in her voice. “Now?”

Renée looked at Tammy, who was watching with keen interest. She wondered how much of the conversation was audible. “I'll be right there. Maybe half an hour.”

“Okay,” Patty said. “Thank you,” she added, quietly.

“No problem,” Renée said as she hung up.

Tammy was still looking at her, and she was shaking her head.

“What?”

“She has you whipped and you're not even dating.”

“We're friends.”

“Sure. You've said.”

Renée thought about it, and she could understand why Tammy had a hard time with that, given recent history. All Renée could hope for, maybe, was a chance to explain it all another time. Now wasn't that time. “Can you take me, or should I call a car?”

Tammy rolled her eyes. “Don't call a car. It's not that far.”

Well, that's something, anyway. Now that they were put on hold, Renée realized she had been silently making plans for the rest of the night. They may have only been in her own mind, but she had been sure. 

Renée wondered what had prompted the call. As much as she was willing, she wasn't particularly looking forward to going back. 

Chapter Text

When Molly came down to breakfast, she spotted neither Allison nor Ty. 

As it should be, she told herself. All that insistence on separate rooms the night before—it had been nothing but a cover. Mere embarrassment or awkwardness. Thank goodness it hadn't lasted. Molly had begun to feel, for a fleeting moment, that she had read something very wrong.

The feeling—that she had been mistaken—first arose in the immediate aftermath of stumbling upon Allison poolside. Allison had been shaking with cold while they gathered her robe and her towel, and she had been asking (rather frantically) after Patty. “Shit. Where did she go? Did you see where she went?” And it continued all the way back. It hadn't been very welcoming. Ty had reassured Allison that Patty had simply returned to the hotel by the usual path. But Allison still seemed overly preoccupied by it. And while it may have been a little rude to skip out on introductions—as Molly knew by now—Patty was a little rude. Allison must know that very well. 

As if to reinforce that notion again this morning, there was Patty, sitting in a corner by herself, a scowl on her face warning others away. Nevertheless, given that she was running out of opportunities, Molly decided now was a good time to catch up. Both their dates had abandoned them, after all.

As Molly approached, Patty looked away until she could no longer pretend she didn't see. “Hey,” she offered, tersely, surprised when Molly slowed in front of her.

“You mind if I sit here?” Molly asked, trying to remain cheerful, but not really waiting for agreement before sitting. “I guess we've both been left to our own devices,” she said with a laugh. “I suppose that makes us a natural pair.” When Patty's bewildered look caught her off-guard, Molly kept going, “You know, I was surprised to see Renée leaving last night—but I guess her job is very—”

Patty interrupted. “You saw her?”

“Oh, yeah, you know, we were in the lobby, getting Ty a room, and—hey, why’d you run off like that—from the pool?”

“Oh I had to uh—piss,” Patty added quickly, her voice trailing off.

Molly, now a little embarrassed to have asked, just nodded dumbly. 

Patty, her mouth still set in what Molly thought of as her natural frown, ventured a question. “What did Renée say . . . about why she was, uh, leaving?”

“Oh, you know, work, or—something.” Molly realized she hadn't really been listening. “Will she be back later? I hope she isn't gone too long. I saw the suitcase and I thought to myself, gee, this must be big if she has to bring all her stuff, y’know?”

Patty let out a little heh and didn't answer. 

“So will she be back before the wedding, or—”

Patty’s eyes narrowed. “Guess we'll see, huh?”

Not knowing what to say to that, Molly just nodded. What a strange relationship they had. When she had gotten in with Ty last night, she had run into Susan milling about the lobby, who had filled her in on the events of the game. Molly guessed she must've misheard earlier in the week. Maybe they were just having a fight. 

Realizing that the silence was getting awkward, Molly spoke again. “I was just waiting to see if Allison and Ty were gonna come down to breakfast. Did you get to meet him this morning at all or—”

Patty shook her head rather forcefully. 

“Oh, well, I met him back when he was working at The Seas, I used to come by after work. He was always good for a laugh. Real cute, too.” Molly laughed awkwardly and realized that Patty had started paying more attention. Or acting like she was. “Oh, did you ever happen to see him there? He had worked there for a while. Used to look a little more, I dunno, Worcester. Like Neil, a little.”

“Neil?” Patty looked like this was the last comparison she could have expected.

“Oh, you know, kinda tall and, uh, imposing, but not very, um, smooth. His hair used to be a bit less . . . styled, his face a little scruffier. I think maybe he looked better that way. Well, to me. Maybe. You know, though, the airlines have their regulations and all . . .” Molly felt that she was rambling, but she looked at Patty, whose expression was still open and listening.

“So yeah, he got us set up with these jobs, once he started. Allison was just sitting there one day, when I came in. And he was flirting with her, of course. Because who wouldn't be? He recognized her, too. Y'know, from the papers?”

“Uh huh,” Patty said, and Molly couldn't tell if this was old news, or boring, or if she just wanted to respond so she wouldn't be sitting in silence. Molly found it easier to just keep talking.

“So yeah, we somehow were hired, I still don't really understand it. Well, I understand Allison. But not so much me. I'm older, and, well, lamer, really. And I don't really have any skills, other than the ability to withstand foot odor and break up a fight over the blue-green silver swirl ball.” The nervous laughter was simply an accompaniment to her narrative at this point. Patty’s smile looked painted on, but she made no move to go.

“So Ty got us the job, and the room in the crash pad. And now this international job. Which—it’s going to be exciting, I think…Paris! For real!”

“Sounds like Allison already got to see Paris,” Patty mumbled. 

Molly chuckled as she looked down and played with her napkin. “Yeah, that Texas Eiffel Tower is a real sight, I hear.” 

Molly looked up to see Patty staring, her eyes filled with confusion. “Texas?”

“Yeah, Ty's folks live there. It's where he grew up.”

“Paris . . . Texas,” Patty said slowly.

“Haha yeah! Isn't that a laugh? It'll be cool for all of us to see the real thing one of these days.”

“All of you?”

“Oh, I mean, with the new job.”

“You already . . . you already got it?”

“Oh, yeah! So Allison and I had interviews the other day. It was so quick! Ty told me last night he got it, too. So it looks like we are going to be country-hopping!” Molly was getting excited just talking about it. “Hopefully we'll share routes. It would be way more fun that way. Though I'm not sure if they care about relationships . . . you know, romantic relationships with co-workers. I don't know the policies about that . . .” Molly wondered if Allison knew.

Patty sat there, a rather dumbfounded look on her face. 

“Is something wrong? It was so good to see you and Allison talking last night, I know you both hadn't talked much, isn't it great to have some time . . . ?” Molly trailed off when she saw the redness creeping into Patty's cheeks. That's odd.

Patty was looking sideways, and then, something caught her eye. Allison and Ty had just walked in and were coming their way.

“Oh, speak of the devil!” Molly said, excited that they decided to come. “Hey! Come on and join us.”

Allison's eyes darted to Patty, a look of concern flashing over her features, but then her back straightened and she kept walking towards the table. “Hey, Patty,” she said, her head tilted awkwardly, “sorry to see Renée had to leave last night.”

“Hmm,” Patty said, “did she go and knock on everyone's door on the way out?”

Allison laughed, maybe a little too loudly. “But you ran off so quickly that you didn't meet Tyler—Ty—” she said, turning to Ty, “this is Patty—my one time neighbor, one time room, er, house . . . mate—”

Molly saw Ty smile big, in what appeared to be genuine good humor. He stuck out his hand. “I'm a big fan of yours.”

Patty looked at him like he was insane.

“I just mean, from what Allison has told me,” and then his eyes kinda twinkled in a way that Molly found impossible to look away from. What was he getting at? He continued, “but I also remember you from the news,” he coughed slightly when Patty's eyes widened. “Y'know, during Allison's, um, disappearance.”

Patty looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Molly found this all fascinating. “Were you on the news much?” Molly couldn't help but ask. “I have to admit, by the time I started paying attention, the hubbub had kinda died down.” Molly bit her tongue. Was it appropriate to say so?

Allison laughed. “Yeah, by then I was dead and buried,” she slapped Molly on the back, a little too hard. Was she upset about all that? Molly wondered.

When Molly looked over, though, she saw that the look on Patty’s face had morphed into one of profound sadness—or maybe regret? Before Molly could say anything, Patty had gotten up.

“I gotta go,” she said, pushing past Molly and Ty. She walked quickly to the hallway.

“What was that?” Molly asked, genuinely wondering what prompted it. “Do you think she's upset that Renée left?”

Allison looked at Molly with wonderment, “Aren't you the one who said they were faking it?”

Molly shrugged, “That was before Susan told me about the game yesterday.”

Allison let out a sigh.

“Let's sit down,” Ty said. “I'll grab us something to eat—Allison?”

“Just an apple or something,” Allison said. “Not really hungry.”

Ty laughed. “You're missing Texas breakfast, aren't you?” He smiled that charming smile.

Allison rolled her eyes. “Right. You were getting something?”

Ty went off to get food and Allison turned to Molly. “So. I think maybe we need to talk. Um, clear some things up.”

Molly looked at Allison, who seemed completely serious. “What is it?” She wasn’t sure she’d been this nervous facing Allison since that first time in the bowling alley.

Allison pulled her chair closer. “You can't imagine how surprised I was to see Ty yesterday,” she said this, barely moving her lips, and looking around like she was being watched.

“I told you he might be in town.”

Allison laughed, without seeming amused. “I didn't think you'd, um, surprise me like that.”

Molly could feel the red coming to her own cheeks. “Well, you just seemed so dejected, and so sure it wouldn't work out, I just thought—I knew he wasn't upset with you—what better way to resolve everything!”

Allison's smile was still tight. “I'm also a little surprised that Ty didn't try to talk you out of it.”

Molly smiled, “Oh no, well, not at all until, well, anyway, I think he was just a little nervous, is all. But it all seems like it worked out! Here you two are!”

Allison nodded. “Well, I admit it was nice to clear things up with him. Spent a long time talking. I think we're just as good of friends as we had been. So, in that respect, I do want to thank you.”

Molly’s brow furrowed. Wasn't there another respect? “I'm sensing a but coming,” she said, unsure where this was headed.

I think . . . I think you misunderstood me,” Allison ventured, the words coming slowly.

“Oh?” Molly said, curious about how and when she might have made a mistake. Everyone seemed so cheerful. Well, with the exception of Patty, but that was a whole separate matter.

“When I said—when I was talking about things being my fault—about needing to fix it—I wasn't talking about Ty.”

“What?” Molly didn't understand. “But I said you could fix it, and you did—I brought him and—”

“I was talking about Patty.” Allison raised her eyebrows in a way that appeared to insinuate Molly should be following. 

Molly nearly did a double take. But she was so certain that Allison had mentioned Ty by name. Hadn't she?

“I needed to fix things with Patty.”

Molly still didn't speak.

“. . . among . . . other things,” Allison trailed off. Just at that moment, Ty returned with a plate heaping with food, and an apple, which he tossed Allison’s way.

“What'd I miss?” he asked, as though it had been simple.

“Well, um—” Molly began.

“I was telling Molly about our little mix-up,” Allison said, as though this were not a big deal. As if Molly would not die of embarrassment.

Ty laughed and nodded. “She's all clear that I'm not here to sweep you off your feet?” he said, turning to Allison.

“Though you did do that…” Allison said, with a laugh that was a little strained.

Ty lowered his head and shrugged, “My exuberance got the better of me,” he said. “Bad timing though, huh?” He looked over at Molly as though she should know exactly what he was talking about.

“I'm confused,” Molly admitted. There were no two ways about it . . . 

“I'm afraid Patty thinks I'm dating Ty now,” Allison ventured. “Which . . . I'm a bit torn.” Allison sat there, her face a mixture of emotions. “I wish I knew what happened to Renée. Whether she left of her own accord or if . . .” Allison sighed. “I wish I . . . you never know, maybe Patty asked her to leave because . . . “ Allison's voice trailed off again. “But some part of me wants Patty to think Ty and I are together. It would serve her right.”

Molly, her brow still furrowed, looked from Allison to Ty and back again. Why did it matter what Patty thought?

Ty smiled, “I can put on a show if you can,” he said, with a smile to Allison. He turned to Molly, “as long as you don't mind, Mol. That is. Just for a day, maybe two?”

“How would I mind?” Molly asked, deciding to just take them at their word. “I thought you were together.”

Ty just nodded, with a sad smile on his face that only worsened Molly's confusion.

Allison, for her part, had an almost evil grin on her face. “Let the games begin,” she said. “Anyone up for some ice skating?”

—

Allison and Ty weren't exactly good at ice skating, but their natural athleticism made up for what they lacked in skill. They looked good doing it, moreover. And though they weren't holding hands, they had been skating in and around each other for most of the afternoon. Molly had joined them once but soon felt a bit outmatched, and she went back to the Benny's snack bar to get a fancy soft pretzel and people-watch.

She spotted Patty at a nearby table, some nachos in front of her, scowling out towards the ice. After all the “explanations” at breakfast, Molly was a little curious about Patty's state of mind, and once again sat down to join her without much of an invitation.

“Not a big ice skater?” Molly asked, joining Patty and looking out onto the ice.

“I go once a year,” she said, a little wistfully, if a voice gravelly with annoyance could be called that. “With Neil.”

“Oh? I bet he's good—he played hockey, right? Did he teach you everything he knows?”

Patty scoffed. “Hardly.” She took a bite of nachos. As soon as she did, the chip flopped over, breaking in two and dumping the contents back onto the pile. Patty rolled her eyes. “I suck.”

“Well how bad could you suck if you go every year?” Molly looked sympathetic.

“You'd be surprised,” Patty sighed—or maybe she was just blowing on the next nacho to cool it. It was hard to tell. “I made a little progress the one time Allison came.”

“Oh?” Molly wondered where this was going.

“Yeah, she tried to teach me. Mostly I spent a lot of time on top of h—” Patty’s eyes went wide and she looked away.

Molly cleared her throat awkwardly, not sure what the issue was. “She only came once?”

Once again, Patty's face looked white for a second, but this time she recovered quickly. “Yeah, she just went that one time. The year she came back. She wanted to surprise me—that I had access again after Neil got us kicked out. That Neil had fixed it,” Patty looked lost in thought. “That was the one time they got along,” she scratched the back of her neck absently, “my thirty-fifth birthday.”

Molly just nodded. It sounded personal. Patty continued to watch the pairs out on the ice.

“Do you think they . . .” Patty started, and then thought better of it.

“Who?” Molly asked, though it looked like Patty was staring at Allison and Ty.

“Oh, I guess I was just gonna ask if Ty—that’s his name?—and, um, Allison, whether he's coming to the wedding?”

“I think so, yeah,” Molly said. “He said he was free.”

“Oh,” Patty said, her mouth turning into a frown.

Molly looked up to see Allison and Ty had veered off towards the snack bar. Allison went to get in line. But Ty came over. Molly thought he might be there to ask her to skate, but instead, he turned to Patty.

“Allison said you might need a hand out there. She said she wasn't strong enough, but that maybe I could help.”

Molly watched Patty’s face morph from bewilderment to anger and back to bewilderment again.

“What a great idea,” Molly ventured. “You were just saying Allison had helped a bit. I bet Ty will get you skating in no time!” Molly looked at Ty, who gave her a smile that made her shiver just a little.

Patty looked at Molly as though she were a traitor, but she grumbled her assent, and let Ty lead her away. No sooner were they on the ice than Molly heard a voice by her ear.

“I didn't think she'd say yes that quickly.”

Molly jumped a little, but she nodded. “He's hard to resist.” She could hear a sigh in her own voice.

“Guess so!” Allison said as she sat in Patty's place.

Molly looked over. “I thought you were in line for the snack bar?”

Allison laughed. “Nah, I just didn't think I'd be helpful in convincing Patty.”

“What's your plan? Molly said, still confused about breakfast.

“Plan?” Allison said.

“With Ty and Patty. Is he gonna talk to her about you so that she thinks—?”

“Oh! No. I—I just thought he really could help. She could use a steady hand. Neil’s never been much of a teacher. And I'm—well, when I tried to help, we spent most of our time flat on our backs—” Like Patty before her, Allison appeared to have an embarrassed reaction to their lack of ice skating success.

“You two,” Molly laughed. “So silly.”

“What do you mean?” Allison asked, a little sharply.

“You're both so easily embarrassed.”

Allison's face went red. “What do you mean?” she repeated.

“Who cares if you were falling all over each other?”

“What? What did—what did you see?” Allison asked, looking around.

“No, no, I didn’t see anything. Patty was just telling me.”

“Patty told you?”

“Yeah, I mean, it's not that big a deal.”

Allison smiled, a small half smile. “Yeah, it’s—it’s not. I just didn't think Patty would say anything. She must see through this Ty thing, if she would admit that to you.”

Molly wasn't sure how that was related, but there was a lot she wasn't sure of lately. “She asked if he's coming to the wedding,” Molly offered. 

Allison shrugged. “He's welcome to, though I think I'll have to give in by then. I don't want to waste the last day we have together being a jerk.”

Molly agreed. Though she hardly knew what she was agreeing to anymore.

Allison got up. “Maybe I will get a snack. The rehearsal dinner is so late,” she smiled.

Molly looked back out to the ice. Ty was behind Patty, holding her steadily, one hand on each side of her waist as she slowly skated forward, first one foot, then another. Molly couldn't tell for sure, but it almost looked like she was smiling. What a guy. She sighed again.

—

After ice skating, Molly was so tired that she fell asleep. Not having set an alarm, she awoke to find that she had missed the cocktail hour, and barely had time to get dressed and run down to the rehearsal dinner in time to be seated. Once there, she saw that Allison, Ty, and Patty were all at a small table with Diane, Billy, and Benny. A seat was open between Allison and Benny, and it appeared that Ty had taken the place next to Patty that had been meant for Renée. Renée was nowhere in sight.

Molly sat down and apologized for running late. 

“No wonder, with you all out so late last night,” Diane said. “I saw you all coming in from the pool,” Diane finished a bite of the salad in front of her. The table was eerily silent.

Molly, feeling weird, owned up to it. “Yeah, I guess it was kinda late. I thought Allison would be in her room by then, we had been looking all over for her, but there she was by the pool. Always the last place you look.”

“Good thing you didn't check there first,” Diane said, which was followed by an extended fit of coughing from Allison, at Molly's side.

“You okay?” Molly asked.

Allison nodded awkwardly, still coughing, her eyes watering. “Cherry tomato,” she said, her voice raspy and strained.

Diane smiled. “She'll be all right. Just a little embarrassed to be caught.”

“Caught?” Molly asked.

“Night swimming,” Diane said. She looked over at Patty as she said this, but Patty was staring down at the napkin in her lap. Allison let out a few more coughs.

“I heard the buffet is going to be fantastic,” Ty offered, changing the subject.

Benny took the bait and began to detail the many delightful options. This lasted until their table was asked to go up to the buffet line, and conversation was put on hold.

Molly returned to the table while others waited to grab some coffee, and she found herself alone with Diane.

Diane smiled at Molly. “It was nice of you to bring Ty,” she began. “I bet Allison was shocked to see him.”

“I'm so sorry I didn't ask you,” Molly said, realizing what she had done. “I just wanted it to be a surprise, and—”

“Oh, don't mind me, I saved a few extra places in case my sister decided to crash. And besides, he easily took Renée's place at dinner tonight.” Diane looked up to see Patty approaching. “Didn't he?”

“What?” Patty looked around, like she was afraid to have missed something.

“Ty took Renée’s place. Here at dinner.”

“Oh, um, yeah.”

“So you're forgiven, Molly. He'll have a spot.”

“But Renée's coming back,” Patty said, suddenly.

“Oh?” Diane said, smiling mysteriously at Molly. “Is she?”

“She'll be back after dinner, at least. I expect her at any time.”

“Oh, well isn't that great!” Diane looked up as she said it, and Allison and Ty approached with their dinners.

“What's great?” Ty asked, politely.

“Renée’s going to be back soon! Isn't that great, sweets?” Diane turned to Allison.

Allison had a glare at her aunt that Molly wasn't sure she had ever seen before. Diane merely laughed. 

“She's so welcome, Patty. So welcome. There's still plenty of room for Ty to stay.” Diane started to take a bite of food. The conversation at dinner seemed awfully stilted after that. Molly was happy when it was finally over.

—

Molly sat outside by the lake after dinner, glad to be out of everyone's space. She almost wished she had slept through it. As they all made their way back to the elevators in the lobby, Renée had arrived, and Patty greeted her, awkward and sheepish almost, and Allison had almost stomped off, heading towards the stairwell, with Ty close at her heels. Molly still didn't understand it, and just stood there, watching, as Renée and Patty walked to the other end of the hall. 

Diane clapped a hand on Molly's shoulder. “I think it'll resolve itself in the end,” was all she said, and Molly just nodded. As ever, confused.

Out by the lake, the water was very still, and the warmth of the night before had given way to a slight chill that Molly felt was more typical for the time of year. Or just for Massachusetts. In fact, she was starting to feel like she should have brought out a sweater or something, and she shivered, before leaning back and trying to ignore it. She felt her head run into something, and she realized it was someone's torso, and then broad hands rubbed her arms and she felt a kiss to the top of her head.

“Hey there,” Ty said.

“Hey,” Molly answered. “Do you ever greet anyone without scaring them half to death? I'm starting to sense a pattern.”

Ty laughed. “Maybe I'll work on that. May I sit?”

She slid over slightly to make room to her right and he sat down, leaning back as she had.

“I prefer this weather, I think,” he said.

“Not great for swimming,” Molly said, with a slight laugh.

“Definitely not tonight,” he said, “but I heard swimming wasn't the half of it.” He chuckled.

Molly shrugged. “Guess they got in another fight. They weren't getting along well today.”

Ty chuckled. “Well, I've been released from my duties, in any case.”

“Released?”

“I'm free to go. Seems like the plan worked too well.”

Molly was confused. “To go?”

“Well, Allison decided she had better tell the truth before Patty never forgives her. Me hanging around doesn't really help. Unless . . . ” He looked over at Molly, his eyes soft and sincere. She found herself temporarily at a loss for words.

But what was he talking about? “Why does Patty care so much about who Allison dates? Why does she care that everyone thinks she's with Renée? Does anyone care?” 

Ty cocked his head, his look questioning. “I thought Allison told you?”

“Told me what?”

“She said she cleared up things about me and her, told you about Patty.”

“Yeah, I mean, I get that she and Patty have been weird, and I misinterpreted what she was saying, but …”

Ty suddenly had a wide grin on his face. “They're in love, Molly. It's fucking plain as day,” he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

“Well I know, but—” Molly started, before realizing what Ty had said. “What?”

“I—I knew it back in April. All that with Allison, I was—maybe I should've been clearer, but I didn't know what she was okay with sharing. I knew it was hopeless. For us—for me and her. She was—well, she was a bit fucked up about it, but I didn't help anything, springing everything on her like that.”

“Yes, but—” Allison was in love with Patty? “But what about Renée?”

“Not sure, but I think Patty brought her so she wouldn't be alone when Allison brought a date. I think they broke up a long time ago.”

“Did she tell you that?”

Ty shrugged. “Not exactly, but, you know—vibes.”

“Hmm.” Molly apparently couldn't pick up on vibes to save her life. How could she miss all this? “But wait—if you knew Allison was in love with Patty, why did you come?”

“Does seem rather fruitless,” he said with a smile. “Guess I should cut my losses and head back to Boston.”

“No!” Molly said, surprised at her own vehemence. 

“No?”

“If you leave, who will—who will I hang out with at the wedding?” Molly realized she meant it. She had wanted him here. Had she—had she wanted him here for herself?

“Oh, well, I suppose I could keep you company.”

“No, but I mean, there will be dancing, and—”

“Do you think there'll be slow dancing?” Ty asked, suddenly, standing up and pulling Molly up along with him, bringing her close in, one hand resting on her hip, the other taking her hand as though they were about to waltz.

“Uh, well, it's a wedding,” she said, realizing that her face was very close to his neck, she could see the edge of the shadow of his facial hair, a twitch of a muscle as his jaw tightened. He also smelled like—like what? Something clean, something that was messing with her other senses.

“Mhm,” he said, “sounds promising,” and gradually, Molly could see his head dipping, as his hand let go of hers and tilted her chin up slightly. Their mouths were very close. Molly stopped breathing for a second, worried that she would breathe on him. As if his own warm breath weren't tickling the space above her lip. If he wanted to whisper something, she wasn't sure she'd hear it, with his mouth so far away and that rushing sound in her ears.

“I—I—,” she stammered, not sure what she intended to say. I look forward to it?

And then his lips were on hers. 

Molly never could pick up on vibes to save her life.

Chapter Text

“But I can't. I can't.” Patty had almost forgotten her promise to Diane. She said she would do her own and Allison's hair and makeup to save time and money. She had made the promise weeks ago, when she thought she'd be able to work up to it—cross that bridge when she came to it. And all those other lies she told herself.  

“Why can't you?” Renée had her hands on Patty's arms and was facing her, a serious look on her face. “You're a professional, and you know you'll do a better job than whoever else is there. For yourself and for Allison. Who knows that face better than you?” The smirk was not appreciated. 

Patty knew very well that Allison herself couldn't do a better job on her makeup than Patty could. The hair wasn't even a discussion. 

“Consider this an opportunity. And besides, you can't tell me in that year you two lived together, you never gave her a makeover.” Renée raised an eyebrow.

“I—” Patty had been trying to block that out. It was the most excruciating thing . . .

“You forget, I saw her early on before you fixed her hair.”

“Oh.” Patty couldn't help wrinkling her nose.

“Yeah.”

“Well, there was a lot going on with that.” Patty was willing to be gracious if it would get her out of today's activities. 

“Right, so this should be easier.” 

“Not after—” Patty didn't finish the sentence, but she knew Renée got it. Patty's fingers twitched with the memory of winding her fingers through Allison’s hair, wet and tangled as it was, and gently pulling her head down to meet . . .

“Earth to Patty.” Patty regained focus and Renée stood there, a sympathetic expression in her eyes. “You can do this,” she said. 

“But . . .” What was it that she could say?

Renée shook her lightly. “What's wrong? You want her? So? She wants you.”

“That's . . .”

Renée started pacing, a look on her face like she was addressing a full jury. “And fuck that guy. There's no way he's as important to her as you are. What were you most afraid of before? I would argue it was the uncertainty that she didn't like you in that way, right? Are you convinced now? I'm pretty sure I'm convinced, and I wasn't even there.”

Patty sat down on the bed dramatically, for lack of a better protest option. “But she's about to travel the world with him, to finally get to do what she has always wanted to do. Out in the open sky, flying to Paris—the real Paris. A man—a nice, handsome one—” Patty hated to admit it, but he was “—and she can have nice, handsome kids that take after both of them. Even if she—even if she wants me, as you say—I will never be enough.” Patty had given this some thought, since she had started to hope—and there was just no place for that. “First of all, I don't want to fly around the fucking world.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Well, that's where she’ll be.” Patty crossed her arms. 

“And yet—you encouraged her to do it.”

“What are you talking about?” Patty frowned.

“When you fought. When you stopped speaking. What did you tell her?” Patty regretted telling Renée as much as she had. She didn't even remember telling her that part. 

Isn’t it time you got out there and did something for yourself, anyway? You wanted your fantasy, your dream. All you’ve done is hang out here and work at that damn diner. Get out there. Figure it out.

Patty knew she had said it. Why she had said it was getting more and more fuzzy every day. But she still could remember everything Allison had ever said that told Patty that Allison wanted something else, something more. 

I don't know. I'd like to see different places. Maybe I should've been a trucker.

Do you even want kids? . . . Of course. It's what you do. I just don't want Kevin's

I know this isn't fun, but we're figuring out the rest of my life, okay? It could mean the difference between me dying surrounded by fat little grandkids, and this. . . . It's... It's a name. . . . No, it's my future. I'm not like you. I can't just pretend to like things.

“I . . .” Patty started. “I told her what she needed to hear. So she wouldn't be stuck with me for the rest of her life.”

“At the time I bet you thought of it more as you being stuck with her.” Renée had a way of remembering things in ways Patty would rather she didn't. 

“You know damn well I'd gladly be stuck with her for the rest of my fucking life. Stop baiting me.”

Renée looked a little chastened, but she didn't bite back. “All I'm saying is, I got the impression that you were angry with her when you said those things. And if I got that impression, after the fact, I bet, so did she. Or she wouldn't have avoided you for months.” Renée's voice softened again when she saw Patty’s expression. “You don't know what she's thinking until you talk to her. You can't win this game unless you play it.”

“It's not a fucking game.”

“It was a metaphor.” Renée rolled her eyes. 

“I know that,” Patty snipped.

Renée stopped her pacing and nodded. “Okay, okay, I said I would stay out of it and I will. Partly out of necessity. You're due to get ready in about,” she checked her phone, “—ten minutes. You go down there and make use of that time. You and her, playing dress up, essentially. Nothing to do but talk.”

“With an audience.” Patty said with a sigh. 

“You can find a way,” Renée insisted. “I think Diane's your ally in this.”

As much as Patty wanted to protest, Renée had a pretty good track record so far. She was dismissed a little too easily—at Patty’s peril. And Patty only had so much groveling left in her. 

—

Arriving at the dressing area near where the ceremony would be held, Diane came up to greet Patty with a big—and unexpected—hug.

“I want to thank you for coming this week,” she said, with what almost sounded like a sniffle. 

“Yeah, um, of course,” Patty replied, her face smashed oddly into Diane's shoulder.

Diane pulled back. “No, I really mean it. We should talk though. Later. I—I keep meaning to and—”

Just then, Susan came out a nearby door and called Patty over. “Lisa and I are just talking through logistics with Jessica—” she looked over at Patty. “Oh, I forgot, do we need to squeeze in Patty and Allison, too?”

Diane looked at Patty, and she realized she had a chance to refuse. But she couldn't. She shook her head. Diane smiled. “Nope, Patty’s taking care of it. Aren't you, hon?”

Patty nodded, her mouth set in a straight line. 

Diane's sympathy was apparent. “You two are set up across the hall. Let me know if you need anything. Anything, okay? But otherwise we won't bother you.” Diane's eyes did something weird with that last statement, and Patty didn't want to try to interpret them.

“Okay,” she said, simply, and let Diane go off. 

Patty rolled her bag of supplies into the room—Allison still wasn't there—and started setting up—laying out her make-up and hair products out on the mirror counter along one side, rearranging things.

Just as everything was set out, she heard a soft knock at the door.

“Come in,” she said, as nonchalantly as she could. Allison’s head peeked around the door at first, and then she slowly stepped inside, the door shutting behind her.

“I ran into Diane—she said you'd be here. Where's everyone else?”

“I'm, uh, I'm just doing you,” Patty said quickly. “—and me,” she added, not liking how that sounded. “You um, you want to go first?”

“Whatever’s easier,” Allison said, agreeably, with a hint of shyness.

“Yeah, um, I guess it's easier to do you before I get ready,” Patty offered, kicking herself for continued use of to do. “Um, so I, uh, don't mess up my hair or whatever.”

Patty looked up at Allison, who was giving her a curiously intense look, before seemingly snapping out of it and nodding. “Yeah. Yeah. That makes sense.”

“Okay, good. You can sit here,” Patty welcomed Allison to sit in the adjustable chair that had been provided, mimicking a salon chair in its ability to match the height of the raised counter and mirror. Allison sat down gingerly, and Patty twisted the chair around so that Allison faced the mirror. Her hands on Allison's shoulders, she asked “So what are we doing?”

Allison's eyes went wide. “Well, um, I—”

“With your hair,” Patty said quickly. “Your makeup.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, right. Um, an up-do, I guess. Whatever you think—you're the expert.”

Patty gave a curt nod, and, trying not to think about it, began sweeping Allison's hair up with her fingers, mimicking various options, trying to decide which she preferred. As she did so, she could feel Allison's neck muscles tense, her breathing seemingly stop for seconds at a time. Patty bent down, her mouth behind Allison's ear. “Relax, honey, I'm not here to slit your throat.”

The laughter that came out of Allison's mouth was nervous, but her eyes smiled back at Patty in the mirror. “I'm—yeah. I need to um, I need to relax.” Surprisingly, as Allison said it, Patty could feel, with her fingers still woven through Allison's hair, Allison's neck droop in relaxation, her head tip back, resting against Patty’s chest, so that Patty almost felt like she was purposely nestling it there. “Is that better?” Allison asked, her eyes closed, her words coming with an exhale.

Patty could feel her own back straighten and her muscles tighten, and fought against it. “Yeah. Yeah. I might ask you to keep your neck straight though,” Patty said, and Allison jerked her head upright and opened her eyes, “—you know, so I can make sure your hair isn't done crooked.” Patty smiled, as softly as she could, at Allison in the mirror.

The smile was returned.

Patty continued, starting on something she thought might work best, and Allison's shoulders stayed relaxed. Progress began to be made. There was a quiet rhythm to it—as there once had been. 

After some time working in companionable silence, Allison's eyes closed again, Patty hoped because she felt comfortable. She was not asleep, as she occasionally made a face or smiled as Patty would twist her hair or gather a new strand. Feeling safe, Patty decided to venture a question. One she needed the answer to. “So, uh, Ty—he, is he—?” Unfortunately Patty was having trouble with the wording when it came out of her mouth.

Allison opened her eyes and looked at Patty in the mirror, but didn’t otherwise flinch. “He's staying for the wedding. He's with Molly.”

It wasn't exactly the answer Patty was looking for, but it was information. “He—he seems nice,” she ventured, trying her best to remain neutral.

“Most of the time,” Allison said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “We're friends,” she said cryptically. 

“Friends,” Patty repeated.

“Yeah, friends,” Allison said, a pointed look to Patty in the mirror. 

Patty nodded and continued her work, uncertain about the meaning behind the look.

“Not like we're friends, though,” Allison continued, looking at Patty again. Patty could see Allison's hands start to fidget against the chair's handles. 

Patty felt a response was called for. “But who is?” she said, venturing a small laugh. Like it was funny. 

Allison nodded, her eyes a bit sad.

“I just mean, well, I mean, who's been through what we've been through?” Patty added. 

“Yeah,” Allison said with a nod. “Yep.” Her words were clipped.

“Don't do that,” Patty said, annoyed at Allison's apparent annoyance. 

“Do what?” Allison asked, her voice the same.

“You know, snipping at—”

Allison's chin jutted forward, defiantly. “Then don't pretend nothing happened, Patty. It did. It happened, didn't it? I'm just trying to clear things up. I'm trying to explain.”

“Well you don't have to explain.”

“Yes I do, if you're going to act like that.”

“How am I acting?”

There was a knock on the door, and Susan came in with a tray of cookies. “Do you girls want some snickerdoodles? I made some to pass around.”

Allison looked over sharply, nearly causing Patty to drop the strand of hair she was painstakingly trying to place. Patty glared in Susan’s direction.

“Oh, well, I guess I came at a bad time,” she said, pulling the cookies back. “Everything does look fantastic, though.” Susan carefully backed out of the room the way she came, shutting the door gently, leaving them alone again. 

Patty firmly placed the strand of hair, twisting it and pinning it in place in the back.

“Ow!” Allison said. Patty knew she didn't have to twist that hard.

“I'm sorry—”

“I'm sorry,” Allison said, at the same time.

“For what?” What did she do? What was Patty doing? Patty didn’t even know any more.

Allison shook her head, or tried, but had limited motion. She sighed at the failure and looked at Patty apologetically. “For being short with you just now. And for being stupid yesterday. I just wanted to do to you what you did to me. I wanted you to think that—”

Patty fastened a loose piece of hair so that her hands would be free and Allison could move her head. She held one hand up. “No, no, no. I should—Renée talked some sense into me.” With the name Renée, Allison caught Patty's eye in the mirror. “Yes, Renée,” Patty said. “My friend Renée, who I brought here as a date under false pretenses.” Patty raised an eyebrow at Allison, acknowledging how stupid it sounded.

“Why?” Allison asked softly. “What happened?” Allison had no right to be that soft about it. Jesus.

“Which question do you want me to answer first?” Patty asked, knowing which one she would prefer.

“What happened with Renée? I saw you both—last January at the restaurant. I saw your greeting, I saw . . . you looked so happy.” Allison's bewilderment looked genuine. “You still do—sometimes.”

Patty shrugged. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

“Isn't that the truth,” Allison said, cryptically. 

“We broke up that day, actually,” Patty added, softly.

“What?” Allison’s face fell, her expression horrified. “But you . . . when I called you . . . in April—she was—did you get back together?” Allison's hands, now in her lap, were wringing with barely contained anxiety. 

Patty just shook her head, all while wondering at Allison's response. “No.”

“Then why was she there when I called you?” Allison asked, trying to calm her voice. Her voice was tiny—like it had been on the phone that night—her hands were still intertwined, one gripping the other like she would fall off a steep cliff if it weren't holding on.

Patty thought back, and she remembered what she had promised. “I had told Renée I would call you.”

“What? But I called you.”

“Yeah. Saved me the trouble.” 

Allison was quiet for a moment. “What did you want to say?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“If Renée wanted you to call me, what were you supposed to say?”

Patty smiled wryly. “She said if I didn't call you, I couldn't mope ever again.”

“Mope?”

Patty shrugged. She didn’t want to explain further. She hoped she wouldn't have to.

“So she was . . . just there, that day? You weren't together anymore?”

“I don't know why she came by that day, unless it was to make sure I called.” Patty looked down. “I know why she stayed.”

Allison's eyes were wide, worried. “Why?”

“Because—because.”

“Because you didn't like what I told you?”

Patty shrugged. That was pretty much it.

“I meant it, though. I meant all of it. I was clueless, a dumbass. For a long time.”

“Of course you meant it.”

Allison's brow furrowed, the worry still written on her face. “I didn’t know it would upset you that much. For me to apologize”

“Sure Allison. You calling me up to explain to me how you suddenly realized I was in love with you the whole time—that made me feel good. Real good.”

“But that's—that's not why I called.” Patty, who had been looking anywhere but in the mirror, dared a glance back. Allison looked appalled. “That's not what I said!”

“Could've fooled me.” Patty crossed her arms. She wasn't willing to concede this. She was sure that's what Allison said. Not in so many words, maybe.

Allison, her eyes a little wild, was moving her head around enough that Patty feared for the last few flourishes she had clipped. She eyed them warily, which also distracted her. “I called to apologize for coming on to you. Like. All the time. But especially the night—well—the night Renée told me she was going to ask you out.”

Although Patty wanted to be concerned, first and foremost, by Allison's hair, she couldn't let that statement go. “What?”

Allison's face grew serious, read to explain, point by point. “See, I was at Ty's house, staying in his childhood bedroom—”

Patty pursed her lips. Do I want to hear this?

“And there he comes in the room wearing only a pair of shorts and suggesting we sleep together.” Allison stopped. “I mean in the same bed, next to each other, and I just—”

“This is supposed to make me feel better?” Patty was already feeling a good deal worse.

Allison threw her hands up in the air, nearly smacking Patty in the side of the head. “I realized how many fucking times I've done that to you.”

Patty looked away. So that's where this was going.

“You can't tell me I didn't.”

Patty reluctantly responded. “Okay, well, um, but you didn't um—but wasn't he trying to sleep with you? Like for real?”

Allison's gave a look like Patty should already know the answer. “Well, yeah.” At Patty's lack of response, she kept going. “And I could finally admit to myself that I had hoped, even if I barely acknowledged it—that when I would do the same thing to you, well—I had kinda hoped you might, y'know—have a bit of a slip up in, y'know your self control. Just, once, maybe. For fun.” Allison bit her lip, her eyes cast slightly downward.

Patty's face must've been the picture of shock, but she refused to look at herself.

Still looking down, Allison continued. “If it had been me, I'm sure I would have.”

“It was you,” Patty felt the necessity to point out.

“You weren't coming on to me. In fact, I know I would've, based on what happened with T—,” Allison shut her mouth abruptly. “Um. Never mind.”

Patty nodded. There it was. “So you slept with Ty?”

“Wouldn't you?” 

“No!” Patty said, defensively, before reconsidering. ”Well . . . maybe a few years ago.” Patty's mouth twitched. “I guess I slept with Kurt at least once,” she mumbled under her breath, "although I tried to avoid it," she added for good measure.

Thankfully, Allison let that go. “Well, you never tried anything with me.” Allison had looked up again, but just as quickly ducked her head. “And yet I just kept coming back. It was, uh, sucky of me.”

Patty let that sink in. “Real sucky.” She smiled. “Also very eloquent.”

Allison almost smiled. “Shut up. You've read a lot more books than I have.”

Patty, still processing this, figured she'd just make sure she was getting this right. “So wait—you—wanted me to try to sleep with you? Like not just . . . next to?” The last two words felt a little strained coming from her throat.

“I don't think you would’ve had to try very hard,” Allison said matter of factly.

“But—”

Allison just looked up, her mouth straight, her eyes focused.

“Why didn't you say?” It was Patty's turn for bewilderment.

“Because I didn't have the words, I guess. I didn't know what I was doing. And anyway, it's not like just because you're attracted to women and you like me as a person means you want to, you know sleep with me, you know, not just next to, I mean, Jesus, that would be presumptuous of me.”

“Allison.”

“You have standards, after all.” Now she was babbling.

“Allison.”

“Look at the hotties you've pulled. It's only been a couple years, and I mean, how am I supposed to compare to, like, these experienced—”

Patty spun her chair around, placing her hands on the arm rests, their faces inches apart.

“Allison, I have put a painstaking amount of time, effort, and detail into your fancy updo just now, in order to distract myself from the fact that my fingers are running across your scalp, down your neck, behind your ears, across your shoulders . . .” Patty stopped. “You get it?” Allison was frozen in place. “Do not have me make a mess of the whole damn thing just to shut you up.”

Allison licked her lips nervously.

Patty's eyes flared. She could not do that. “Okay?” Patty asked, increasing the edge in her voice.

Allison swallowed. She nodded.

Patty stood up and swung the chair back around. “New topic,” she announced.

Allison, seemingly recovered, continued as if nothing untoward had happened. “Well, anyway, I'm sorry you didn't understand me. I'm sorry I thought Renée was there as your girlfriend and I hung up.”

Patty, who had been about to start on Allison's hair again, instead gripped her shoulder, rather too hard.

“Well can you—can you forgive me?”

Patty's hand relaxed on Allison's shirt. “There's nothing to forgive.”

“I hardly think—”

Patty stepped back, allowing herself a deep breath. “Allison, I was a complete asshole that day you came home, I guess I'll call it drunk and . . . clingy—for lack of a better word. I was dismissive, then I lied to you—on purpose—and I basically told you to go f . . . take a hike. If anyone should apologize, it's me.” Patty meant that. Speaking of sucky.

Allison looked surprised.

Patty kept going. “And I hate that you are about to go off on more adventures without me and it's my own damn fault for pushing you away.”

Allison smiled, her little half smile. “Adventures?”

A knock sounded on the door. 

“Come in,” Allison said, still smiling.

Diane came in, a sheepish look on her face. “Do you mind if I chat with Allison for a second while you work? Coordinating some picture stuff.”

Patty shook her head, and while Allison discussed with Diane who would need to go where, and when, Patty finished the last few strands of hair, patted Allison on the back to get her attention as Diane nodded her approval, and began to lay out her makeup on the counter.  

The hair was one thing, but the kind of focus it would take to do eyes and lips and . . . 

Patty could only cross her fingers and hope for the best.

—

Patty was standing between Allison and the mirror, leaning forward, her face very close, in order to see. “You need to keep your face as still as you can, okay?”

“Yes. Of course. Okay.” Allison began to nod, and then stopped, realizing.

Patty sighed and decided she'd start with the eyes, so if her hand were shaking by the end, at least it wouldn't be as noticeable. 

“You have any preference on color?”

“Something that works.”

“Well I know what I would do if I were—”

“That. Do that.” Allison looked very adamant. 

“Okay.” So Patty did her best—trying to think of this merely aesthetically, which—it was satisfying in that way, she just wished that intense look Allison had in her eyes would soften a little. At least she wasn't saying anything. If she started talking, Patty would look at her mouth and that would . . .

As if to test the theory, Allison decided to say something. “Do you think Diane did this on purpose?”

Patty was able to keep her hand steady, but stepped away. “What do you mean?”

“Are you even friends?” Allison's eyes narrowed.

“Well, I mean, we're not not friends.”

“Yeah, but, like, when I talked to her in the spring she acted like she just ran into you randomly.”

“She did.”

“And she didn’t know what was going on with you and Renée.”

“Well, no one did,” Patty admitted. In part because there was no one to tell. On her side. Maybe Renée's friends knew. 

Allison was thoughtful for a while, and Patty continued, finishing her eyes. They would really stand out with the dress. Patty was proud of her own handiwork. She came back to their discussion. “What's your point?” Patty turned the chair for Allison to look. “Eyes are done.”

A chuckle escaped from Allison. 

“What?”

“I don't even look like me.”

“Sure you do,” Patty said. “What was your point? About Diane.”

As Allison continued to stare into the mirror, she answered. “I just think that maybe Diane wanted us to spend the week together.”

“Why would she do that?”

“So we could make up.” Allison looked away from her own reflection for second towards Patty. “I mean, why do we have this room to ourselves? Especially since I'm pretty sure she saw us . . .”

Patty froze. With the commotion of Renée returning and her own confusion at the time, she had forgotten Diane's cryptic comments about the pool. “Well, I'm kinda surprised Renée wasn't watching,” Patty added. “I thought she would be.”

Allison shook her head in disbelief. “What kind of relationship do you two have?”

“I told you. A fake one.”

“But she would watch you—”

“She set up the fucking kiss cam.” 

Allison's eyes shot wider, her mouth opened in disbelief. “That's what she meant. But . . . but why?”

Patty's mouth clamped shut. She had said, probably, too much. “She likes to make everyone's business her own.”

Allison thought for a second. “But—what did she think would happen?”

Was Allison fishing for something? “Probably what did happen. Later.”

“Yeah, but how would she know—?” Allison, whose eyes were in sharper focus, thanks to Patty, had a look that said will you admit it?

Patty wasn't sure she was ready for that. “Lawyer's intuition,” she said, moving on quickly, “I gotta do the rest of your face. Probably better if we don't talk.” 

Allison closed her mouth and frowned.

Patty let out a breath of relief.

—

While the rest of Allison's makeup seemed to take days, Patty was able to do her own with relative ease. Allison, who was free to go, nevertheless sat to Patty's right and observed the whole process as though she had never seen it before. Patty, feeling, well, watched, looked over. “It's not like this is something new.”

Allison's face remained neutral. “I've always liked watching you.”

Patty grumbled but kept going. Maybe it was better when Allison was captive.

“I wish I could do it for you.”

Patty rolled her eyes. “Why?”

Allison continued to stare without answering.

“Why?” Patty repeated, turning to look at Allison and not just her reflection.

Allison startled. “Oh! Um, I just do.”

“Okay,” Patty said, with more than a trace of sarcasm.

Allison, instead of being annoyed, continued to watch in silence. By the time Patty had finished everything, hair included (though it was not vastly different than usual), she was starting to feel frayed at the edges, like she had just been through a particularly gruelling wash cycle.

“Okay, I'm done, you can stop looking at me like that,” Patty said, pacing around the room, trying to avoid Allison's direct gaze.

“Okay. Guess we should get dressed.” Allison looked over at their dresses, which were hanging on one side of the room. Had they been there the whole time?

“Where?” Patty asked, looking around. It was just a room, there were no partitions, no stalls. Not even a closet. Just an empty room with a large mirror and a bright light above it.

Allison shrugged. “Here. I guess.”

“Okay, I'll leave and you can go ahead first.

“But I don't want to mess anything up.”

“That's why you're wearing a button-down. You got married, I know you've done this before.”

“My mom helped.”

Patty laughed.

“Yeah, well, you could say my mom ran the whole show. I'm not sure I was really there at all.”

Patty smiled. “She hated Kevin so much, and yet . . .”

“Her daughter was getting married. That was the most important thing. After five years of unsanctioned cohabitation.”

Patty bristled, and it wasn't entirely for show. Sometimes she forgot what Allison had endured. No wonder, when she had tried so hard not to pay attention.

“So, yeah, I did this for my wedding, but hell if I remember any tricks.”

“You also tried the dress on the other day.”

“Molly helped.”

“Okay, okay. Fine. I'll go stand over here, and I'll look the other way—”

Without waiting for Patty to finish speaking, Allison had started on her buttons. And she had to go slowly, her nails were painted, she couldn't make quick movements . . . Patty had intended to turn around, but then she just . . . didn't. 

“Whattya doin?” Patty asked. But Allison just continued with the buttons, ignoring the question, as if she were alone. Except there was something the slightest bit performative about it, Patty thought. But there was no arch look. Just a concentration on the buttons. 

As she released the last button, the shirt fell open, and she shrugged it off her shoulders lightly, turning slightly, but not completely, as she unbuttoned and then unzipped the jeans she was wearing. She practically had to roll them off, which was slow, and, for Patty, rather painful. Allison looked over, then, as she stood there, as much, or more, unclothed, than she had been at the pool. 

Patty couldn’t read Allison's look. Was she angry that Patty didn’t move, didn’t look away? Was she challenging her? But no, if Patty had to guess, Allison just looked—curious. As if she didn’t know what Patty’s reaction would be. Patty could feel the muscles in her face twitching, and she realized how impassive her own expression must be. Is that why Allison didn’t know?

As Patty thought this over, Allison had turned again and walked over to take her dress down from the hook, unzipping the back as low as it would go before stepping in and bringing the thing straps up to her shoulders. Patty understood what came next, what had been coming the whole time. Allison turned the other way, her shoulders straight, and stood there. Patty could refuse, but there was no point. 

She walked over, and she stood, hands at her sides, taking the opportunity to look. The zipper started down past her back, and Allison made no move to help, simply stood there, breathing steadily, the faint outlines of her vertebrae exposed, the skin across the muscles of her lower back, everything moving slightly with the in and out of her breathing.

So she wants to know, does she? Patty stood there for a second, taking it in. At the pool, in a swimsuit, this view seemed somehow less intimate than it did here—the skin seemed softer without the beads of water forming on the surface. Patty could vividly remember any number of times, Allison in her tank top and pajama pants, curled up against Patty as she finished a chapter, two, three, the steady, pre-sleep breathing—how much Patty had wanted to just set the book down, reach—

Patty extended one hand, slipping it inside the dress, where it had no business being, her fingers splayed across the ribs at Allison's side, so that she could feel it when Allison's breath caught. If she had done this then, would Allison have reacted? Feeling bold in the present at Allison's permission from the past, Patty let her other hand slide under the other side of the dress, reaching around to Allison's stomach, and delicately tracing her fingers across before gently pulling Allison back gently, and resting her forehead on her neck. As Patty took a breath in, just relishing the feeling of Allison in her arms, Allison exhaled, her breath accompanied by a mostly suppressed moan. Patty stepped back and dropped both hands to Allison’s hips before slipping them back out from the dress, placing one hand near the start of the zipper, holding it in place while the other hand pulled the zipper up to the top at the middle of Allison's back. Patty let her hand continue to Allison’s shoulder, encouraging her to turn around, without actually pulling her. 

Allison turned slowly, her eyes on level with Patty’s, and the look in them was a smoldering fire. Patty did not back down. She had trusted and was rewarded. Allison had . . . wanted more than Patty had ever realized. It made more sense than what Patty had assumed, that she was making empty promises, teasing, tormenting, purposely or idly, it didn't even matter, but the resentment had grown. This new information, it made everything . . . if not okay, then at least bearable.

“If you have any doubt,” Patty said, one hand on Allison’s hip, the other still on her shoulder, meaning to hold her in place, ready to act defensively to well, save face . . . literally, “that I wish I knew that you wanted me to . . . that I wish I had . . . slipped—you don't have to test me.” Allison's eyes were cloudy. “This is not the time, anyway. Let's just . . . get through this.” Patty did her best to make the kind of eye contact that reached agreement. “Okay? And then, well, then we have a date to figure this out. Okay?”

“A date?” Allison said, swallowing nervously.

“I'm not taking you to dinner, if that's what you're thinking,” Patty said, in a tone that was unlikely to do her any favors. “Benny is catering dinner tonight.”

“So, um, after the reception?” Allison suddenly looked impatient and almost angry.

“Can you wait that long?” Patty asked, still too harsh, but she was having a hard time taking any other path that wouldn't be fatal. 

If Allison hadn’t looked angry before, she did now. 

Patty buried herself deeper. “I'm just saying. This is . . . I don't even know what this is. I don't think we want to ruin a few hours’ work over—”

Allison's hand gripped the back of Patty's neck and her lips crashed into Patty's, hard, and Patty could almost feel the transfer-proof lipstick beginning to . . . transfer. Allison didn’t open her mouth, but she twisted her head just enough that there seemed to be no way to salvage it. Allison just as suddenly pulled away again, turning her back to Patty. Her hair was untouched, and, other than her lips and what felt like nail marks on Patty's neck, nothing else had been mussed. Allison started towards the counter and the large mirror.

Covering her own mouth with her hand and grabbing a makeup removing wipe from Patty's stash, Allison glared back at Patty, who was trying to assess the damage. It was hard to see with the way Allison's hand was angled. She spoke, her words short and offended. “I'll do without a touch-up, thanks. You know—in case I can’t control myself.” Allison paused on her way to the door, and then continued. “I'll send someone in to zip your dress.” She called the last behind her as she walked out.

“Real mature,” Patty muttered to herself, going over to the mirror to start fixing her own mouth. At least it was only that. But when she looked in the mirror she found, miraculously, that everything looked completely normal, just as she had meant it—like nothing had happened. Well, fuck. Maybe she could still catch her . . .

But Patty didn't. The hair would be the real difficulty, anyway, she reasoned. The violence—because it was violence—could wait. All of it could wait.

—

Maybe it could wait, but Patty was beginning to think she had done an entirely too good job on Allison's makeover. That, plus the dress, Allison's version of which had a slit up one leg, made Allison look . . . better than she had in years. (Patty had opted against that slit, it was bad enough she was wearing a dress at all. But at the time of agreeing, she hadn't felt comfortable making waves about that small detail when there were worse things to worry about.)

No, not better, just made up. Patty knew well enough it didn't really matter what Allison was wearing. But the idea that she was now available was very difficult to take, in combination with her looking her best. Not to mention she seemed to still be mad about earlier (Patty was simply telling the truth!), which meant her eyes kept shooting daggers at Patty. And they looked very green, or teal, almost, and, well, fuck, that was Patty's fault, too.

Gathered in the main dressing room, she felt someone pull her aside, and realized it was Diane, who also looked fantastic in an ivory dress that was both flattering and not overdone. “You two okay?” she asked, almost in a whisper. “She seems . . . icy.”

“It'll pass,” Patty said, with more confidence than she felt. Icy was better, for now, than any attempted reconciliation. She could wait a few hours. What was a few hours?

“If you say so, hon,” Diane said, with a chuckle. “No fighting during the ceremony.”

Patty smirked. “But the reception is fair game?” she asked as Diane started to move away.

“Wait until after dinner,” Diane said, turning back and nearly running into Allison, who had left the room briefly.

“After dinner?” Allison said, looking at Diane, and then Patty.

“Dancing, of course,” Diane said, with a mysterious smile, looking at Patty. It was enough to make Patty think Allison might have been right. How did Diane know? Was Patty that obvious? Allison sure wasn't. 

Allison let out a “heh,” and moved past both of them to the bouquets that were lined up on the opposite side of the room, where she fussed with them in a way Patty assumed was meant to look like she was actually doing something besides ignoring Patty.

Patty went over. The room was otherwise full, there wasn't much danger here. “We're cool, though, right?” Patty asked, for lack of a better question.

“Cool?” Allison asked, an eyebrow raised.

“You know what I mean.”

“I don't, actually. But I can wait.” Allison seemed to be choosing deliberate misunderstanding. Not unusual, really. 

Patty wanted to say “Don't be like that,” but that went without saying. “Okay, good,” was all she said.

As it was, when the time came for Allison to walk down the aisle in front of Diane, Patty couldn't feel her glare. It was bad enough she was walking toward Patty, had to stand beside her during a ceremony dedicated to love and commitment. And Patty promised no fighting. 

They had practiced all this the day before, but Allison had brought Ty, to “watch,” and Patty had spent most of the rehearsal staring at him as he smiled benignly. Given that Allison didn't actually bring him as a date, Patty wondered how much he knew. If it was anywhere near what Renée was privy to, Patty wondered if maybe they shouldn't have another chat. 

The day before, at ice skating, he had been uniformly friendly in a way that was both unnerving and a little offensive—Patty was a rival, after all—wasn't she? After the pool, it was safe to say she was. He should be more worried. But he just blithely . . . helped her get her balance. She almost felt confident skating by the time they were done. Patty hated him . . . and couldn't help but be thankful. But she had wasted a chance to get intel on Allison. He had opened the conversation a few times, and she had shut him down. Maybe she could find him before dinner. Get a drink or something.

But during cocktail hour, Patty followed him discreetly as he left the room, only to catch him meeting Molly in a stairwell. One quick peek at that assignation was all Patty needed to see that “Ty's with Molly” was meant in more ways than one. Any worrying that Patty may have done about his intentions towards Allison was over. But for god’s sake, didn't they have the whole day together and two empty hotel rooms? A person could practically start to itch at the unfairness. 

After returning to the wedding party and taking a number of less-than-desirable pictures, Patty found Renée, who had been thriving on her own with the increased number of people to schmooze. Renée graciously let her conversation partner know she had to take a break and pulled Patty aside.

“The jig is up, I don't think you need to be glued to me all night.”

Patty grimaced. “You promised.”

“How'd everything go?” Renée ignored her. 

Patty blew out a breath. She wished she knew. “No idea.”

“Oh, come on.”

“We have a date to talk after the reception.”

“Okay! That's something!”

“I'm not sure it's not just for her to yell at me.”

“Anger is better than indifference. Besides, what about all the Ty stuff?”

“Apparently he's really here for Molly. I misunderstood.”

“Sounded like she wanted you to.”

Patty wanted to be annoyed, but she couldn’t. “It was kinda fair, honestly.”

Renée raised an eyebrow. “All's fair in—”

“Shut up,” Patty said before she could finish. 

“It'll all be fine.” Renée squeezed her shoulder. “You look hot by the way.”

“Shut up,” Patty repeated.

“Just facts.”

Patty rolled her eyes.

“Save a dance for me.”

“Don't count on it.”

Renée just laughed, excusing herself to go back to chatting, leaving Patty to wander to the bar. She was surprised to be greeted by Ty.

“All good, I hope?” He smiled sheepishly. 

Patty just grunted her assent. She wasn't in the mood, really. Ty should go back to making out in the stairwell. 

“I made her call you when she was in Texas. I heard it didn't go well. I'm sorry about that.”

“You made her?”

“She was miserable about you.”

Patty didn't respond. What did that even mean?

“I mean, she wanted to talk to you so badly, she was miserable. I should've known I didn't have a chance. It was silly of me. I don't think it would've worked anyway.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Hey, you know, I—I watched you get interviewed that one time.”

“You said,” Patty replied, dismissively, hoping he would drop it.

“There was this faraway look in your eyes—and I was like, who is this girl—woman, I guess—who inspires such grief? In her next door neighbor, too. I think I got a little obsessed with her. The missing girl.”

Patty scoffed. “Why are you admitting this?” 

“In case it helps. It wasn't her. She just thought I was a friend. Well, she thought I was gay, which—she had reason for that.”

“Do I need to know this?” What a strange man.

“I'm just saying, it was always you. For her. That's all.”

“How can you know that?”

Ty shrugged. “Fine. Don't believe me.”

“I'll do what I like,” Patty said. She didn’t necessarily like being rude. He was trying to help. She was just very good at it, from many years of practice. “But thanks for the ice skating, um, help,” she mumbled.

Ty's mouth widened into a smile. “I'll take that.”

Patty rolled her eyes and moved on. She really didn't need another Sam. She had neglected Sam as it was. Maybe she should call him?

—

When they all sat down to dinner, Allison was across the table from Patty, and Molly and Ty had seats elsewhere. Renée was next to Patty, on threat to her life should she try to switch.

Patty was ready to be bored for a while, ready to really embrace it, when the DJ, who appeared to be Billy and Benny's younger cousin, announced that Allison was to give a speech. Of course. Allison giving a speech. So much for calm.

Allison stood up, taking the microphone, which made an awful squeal before she could begin. Patty took a drink for good measure.

“Hi. Um. Hello. I'm, um, Allison. McR—Dev—well—Diane's niece. I had something written for this, that I, uh, prepared a while ago. But I, um, don't think I'm going to use that.” Allison tossed a page on the ground.

There were some murmurs, and a rather alarmed look from Diane, but Allison continued.

“Well, I'll use part of it.” Holding a finger up, she bent to pick the paper off the ground and unfolded it several times, reading a few lines at the top before looking back up. Patty wondered how much she'd had to drink. Patty hadn't witnessed it—maybe she was slugging down a bottle of vodka in the catering kitchen. A clearing of Allison's throat got Patty's attention—and everyone else's. “Diane once told me, right as she was doing something incredibly generous for me, something she didn't have to do. Like, at all.” Allison looked at Diane. “—that she had always thought of herself as having a daughter. Well, me, she meant. That she thought of me as a daughter. And for my part, since my own mother isn't here, I'll say I always would have preferred her as a mother.”

Diane let out a laugh, but the rest of the room went eerily silent. 

Allison giggled. “Ha. Well, I guess no one here remembers my mother.” With more murmurs, she added, with increasing alarm. “She's very much alive, by the way! She's totally fine! She's just not here.”

After an extended awkward silence, Allison kept going. “Anyway, both Diane and Billy have been incredibly kind to me during some tough times. And if you know anything about me, there have been some times.” 

There was a whistle from a few tables back, and Patty turned to see it was Ty, who was smiling. Turning back around, she could see that Allison was smiling in return.

“When I found out they had somehow found each other—it all made sense, you know? That these two people who, sometimes reluctantly—sometimes very reluctantly—had lent a hand to me, in particular, should find happiness together. And I like to think I had a tiny bit to do with that. Something good came out of my misfortune.”

Allison looked at Diane and Billy, who both nodded their acquiescence and support.

“So, um, I figured that was something to celebrate. To make a toast to—the beautiful things you wouldn't have found without, um, stepping in a pile of shit.”

Patty wanted to scoff a little at her wording, but then Allison, who had been holding up her glass towards Diane and Billy, turned to Patty, after saying “cheers,” her face unreadable. She just nodded once, and, when the toast had concluded, sat back down without fanfare.

Renée elbowed Patty. “Say something to her, idiot.”

“Not now,” Patty insisted, and, of course, Benny then stood up and started droning on about god knows what. Patty watched Allison the whole time, and her face remained downturned, looking at something in her lap, or maybe on the floor. Patty knew, somehow, that she was picking at her nails. She was sure of it.

Renée responded. “Why not now? No one is listening anyway?”

Patty let out a half snort, and Allison looked up, prompting Patty to look away. Renée tutted.

“Shut up,” Patty mumbled.

—

Patty managed to survive dinner and the usual array of standard dances (as a spectator). She was itching to leave, and she felt bad about it, given that she really did like Diane. Diane had helped, along with Sam, to keep her sane those six months Allison was away. Patty didn't fully understand how that qualified her as a bridesmaid, but she was happy to do it. And no matter what happened later, Patty knew she was thankful for the opportunity to clear things up with Allison. As little, perhaps, as they had. It was a lot. And it was something she would never have been able to do in a single evening. Or even two. 

Patty saw Ty dancing with Molly, and couldn't help but smile at them, as enamored as they looked. For the life of Patty, she couldn't figure out how Molly and Allison could somehow end up with the same guy, twice. And such very different men, too. In Kevin’s case, she supposed maybe fifteen years’ difference was the explanation, and the other, with Ty, was just a coincidence. It didn't really matter. She searched the room for Allison, though she didn't immediately spot her, and she continued, standing a short way from the dance floor, to watch, while she sipped a glass of wine, fortifying herself for whatever was to come.

“Okay, you're still here, time for that dance,” Renée said from behind her.

“Not a chance,” Patty said, simply.

“But we're dating, people will expect it.”

That made Patty turn. “You just said—”

“Well, not everybody knows.” Renée smiled.

“I don't see how it will help me.”

“Take your mind off things.” Renée gestured towards the others who were dancing. It was a slow enough song. A standard.

“Yeah, by putting them on to the fact that I'm awkward and unskilled.”

“Whatever works.”

Patty rolled her eyes.

“If you don't, I'll tell Allison why you brought me.”

“I have a feeling she already guessed.”

“Right, but then she'll know.”

Patty grumbled. “I have been known to get violent.”

Renée sniffed, not impressed. “I have many connections to law enforcement.”

Patty scoffed in turn. “Yeah, former law enforcement.”

“She still carries.” Renée shrugged. “Isn't it easier to just dance? You barely know anyone here.”

“Just Allison.”

“Exactly.”

“Kinda key.”

Renée ignored the verbal protest and took Patty's hand to gently drag her onto the edge of the dance floor. The moderate tempo allowed Patty to pretend to dance without doing much. So she did. She shut her eyes, too, so she could also pretend she wasn't there.

This was working rather well, and Renée was quiet for once, when Patty heard an “Ahem,” behind her. Renée turned her so that she could see Allison standing there.

Allison smiled politely at Renée and then looked at Patty. “I think this is my dance.”

Oh Jesus. Patty thought. 

Renée laughed. “Of course. She's all your—”

Renée was interrupted by a screech from the DJ booth.

There was a shuffle, followed by, “Excuse me. Sorry for the interruption. I have a bit of a surprise for you all. A special guest. Who has something to say.”

Patty looked at Allison, and then at Renée, both of whom seemed just as confused. 

“Hello,” a voice from behind the booth said, along with the sound of a microphone being removed from a holder. Patty stilled. She knew that voice. She looked at Renée, who seemed to recognize the voice just as well. Allison had a look of panic like Patty had only seen on a few occasions.

“Excuse me for interrupting this, um, celebration of love,” the voice continued, and with that introduction, Tammy came out from behind the DJ booth, though she was limited in her mobility by the microphone cord. She stood, facing their small group, each of them rooted to the ground, staring at her. “I asked the bride and groom for permission, first, but they were oddly in favor of it. And I just have the feeling that nothing bigger than some grand gesture will really get my point across.”

Patty looked at Renée, who had the kind of half-flattered, half-anxious look that Patty had often seen in her face when Tammy would call.

Tammy looked towards Renée, “I know you're probably surprised. But I couldn't let this go. You've been here all week under false pretenses, and you insist that you don't have ulterior motives, but I just get the feeling that I'll never get the truth out of you if I don't call you out, right here and right now.”

Renée swallowed.

Tammy continued. “I know we didn't really give ourselves much time, and I know there was a lot of other shit going on at the time that distracted us. But we deserve to give this a real chance. I think we'd be great together. I think you do, too. And, well, I just want to—”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Patty heard erupt from beside her. “This is fuckingunbelievable.” It was Allison next to her, her hands thrown in the air. She looked at Patty, her eyes wild. “Is she fucking serious?” 

Patty stood there, speechless. She wanted to say “No, I think you made a mistake,” but the words weren't forming. Her eyes went wide at the redness in Allison's cheeks.

Allison let out a sound of immense frustration and stormed out of the room, slamming the banquet room door behind her, which rattled for a full five seconds. Patty wanted to follow her, but curiosity kept her in place. She looked back toward Tammy, who sighed.

“Figures Allison never likes what I have to say.”

Only Patty snickered at that. She couldn’t help it.

“As I was saying. Renée—what do you say? I've seen enough idiots waste good chances.” Tammy looked off towards the banquet doors in a way that Patty should find offensive. “Let's not be stupid.”

Patty, still wondering how much of that last comment might be referencing her, looked over to see Renée shaking her head in amazement. Renée caught Patty's eye on her and turned with a shrug. “You called it,” she said. “I'm no better than you. Wish me luck.” Patty could see tears glistening, and it was somehow incredibly reassuring to remember that Renée had a heart. And one that wasn't always sure about everything. With that, Renée walked up, took the microphone, said “Fuck it,” quietly, set the mike back down, and kissed Tammy.

With the rather loud murmurs of the other guests, surpassing even Allison insulting the absent sister-of-the-bride, and then a smattering of applause, Patty let out the breath she was holding. She guessed she was off the hook for explaining anything to this crowd. And for disappointing Diane. Jesus. There wasn't much else to see here.

It was definitely time to find Allison. They had a date, after all. And maybe a misunderstanding or two to correct.

Chapter Text

After several vain attempts to unhook and unzip the back of her dress, Allison sat on her bed in the hotel room, head resting on her knees. It was not a particularly dignified position, but she wasn’t feeling particularly dignified. 

She had run out of the banquet hall. Rather publicly. But she couldn’t just stand there and let—

There was a knock on the door. 

“Jesus Christ, Renée, can't you ever just let me run?” she shouted. It was always Renée.

“Hey, sweets,” she heard, muffled, from behind the door, “it's Diane.” Allison sprang out of bed and went to open the door. There was Diane, still in her wedding dress, a look of concern on her face. "I saw you run down the hall. What's the matter?"

Allison let out a sigh that was dangerously close to a sob. 

“Oh, sweets,” Diane said, and let Allison crumple into her arms. By the time she was released again, Diane was searching for a tissue. 

Allison, not entirely unaffected, ventured. “Can you help me out of this goddamn dress?”

“You’re not coming back down?” Diane asked, carefully.

“I gotta leave early tomorrow,” Allison said. “I wasn’t going to let that stop me from staying the whole damn night, but now—”

Diane tilted her head. “What’s different now, honey?” Allison turned around and let Diane get the zipper down to where she could grab it and finish the job.

Allison laughed, an awkward snort escaping from her nose. “Didn’t you see?”

“See what?”

“Tammy!” Allison stepped into the bathroom and grabbed the terry cloth robe she hadn't yet tried on. It was surprisingly soft.

Diane stared at her like she was deranged. “Damn, I missed it. Takes a fuckin’ year to go to the bathroom in this thing. So she got to say her piece?”

“Ha. Yeah. Doesn’t mean I stayed the whole time.” Allison stepped out of the dress, and wrapped the robe around herself, hugging the fabric to her skin as she sat down on the edge of the bed.

Diane smiled. “You never did like her much, did you?”

Allison frowned. “I tried! She didn’t want to like me.”

“Well, I think we know why that was,” Diane said. 

“I was perfectly nice!” I was also a criminal. But she didn't know that! At first.

“Wouldn't have mattered if you baked her a cake, honey.”

“I almost did that.” Instead we bought a cake together.

“Anyway, sweets, she was never gonna like you when she saw how Patty looked at you.”

“We were friends!”

“Honey.”

“We were.”

“Yes, you were, and . . .”

“And what?”

Diane sat down next to Allison and put an arm around her shoulder. “Did I ever tell you about the six months you were away?”

“Something about Neil?” Allison looked at Diane wearily. Diane had never been told about the choking incident. Allison still doesn't like to think of him with her aunt. In any context. 

“Well, yeah, there was a lot of Neil then—it was a strange time. But, no, I meant Patty.”

“Patty?”

“She would come by the store. Every week.”

“Okay.” So she drank a little. So what?

“She'd buy a bottle of whiskey and she would just, I don't know. Linger.”

Allison didn’t think that sounded all that unusual. 

“No matter what I might be doing—stocking the fridge, laying out a display—she'd wait until I was done—the first time, I remember she did her best to keep the conversation going, and you know Patty. That's easier said than done.”

Allison thought about it. Patty could talk plenty. To Allison. She wasn't sure it happened with anyone else. Maybe Renée. Seemed like they told each other things. Probably Tammy.

“And you know, it seemed like, the whole time, she wanted to say something, or wanted me to say something. Until eventually, I just kinda looked at her, and I said ‘I think she's gonna be alright.’ And then she did, like, a double take, trying to size me up, maybe figure out what I knew, which was next to nothing, of course, and she just nodded. Her eyes were wet, like she—”

Allison listened, but didn't want to hear about making Patty cry. She turned away. 

“And every time, after that, she'd wait until I said it. ‘I think she's gonna be alright.’ And that would be like—her permission to leave.”

Diane had finished, and the room was quiet. “Why are you telling me this now?” Allison asked.

“Because it seems like you need to hear it. I didn't necessarily think you did, before. I just assumed—”

“I know she missed me. I told her I missed her. She—” Did she ever say she missed Allison? . . . She said I know. “She made it clear.”

“She didn't just miss you, sweets. She was devastated. She lost the most important thing in her world.”

Allison shook her head. “How would you know that? She had Tammy.” And who did I have? “Sounds like she still does, actually—”

Diane started laughing. Low at first, and then louder, until Allison could only stare at her. Diane, once she had exhausted her own sense of humor, smiled at Allison. “How long did you give Tammy before you ran out of that room?”

“Long enough!”

“Did she mention who she was talking to?”

“She was—” Allison realized Tammy had been looking towards the group of them, and Allison had just assumed—But what had she said? Something about missed chances…

“She was talking to Renée, sweets. Even Tammy's not stubborn enough to get between the two of you again.”

Renée. Her other ex.

“Bill and I ran into her downstairs at the bar last night—she just seemed totally demoralized. She told us the whole thing—Renée was here with Patty as a date, just to make you jealous, but Tammy thought maybe Renée had hidden motives besides helping Patty with you—anyway, they spent the day together yesterday and then Patty called and Renée came right back…what a mess. Bill and I convinced her to come to the wedding, have a free date on us, and try her luck. And then we had another couple drinks and it became a whole plot…”

Allison found it all so hard to follow. So that speech was meant—for Renée. But maybe Renée actually still liked Patty? But maybe not? “Wait—” There was something else. “To make me jealous?”

Diane laughed. “Glad you heard the important part.”

“Well, but I—”

“Talk to Patty. I don't know what you two said earlier, but you must've had some crossed wires, if all of this wasn’t immediately clear.”

Allison let out a noise of frustration. “Patty was very dedicated earlier to keeping my hair and makeup presentable.” 

Diane laughed again. “That must've been tough, given what I saw the other night.”

Allison's jaw dropped. “You! You did!” Allison looked Diane in the eye. “Did you set this all up? You brought Patty here, you brought me here, threw us together for a week, and—”

Diane shrugged. “I had an opportunity and I thought I'd use it. I always want to see my favorite niece happy.” Diane gave her a little squeeze, with one arm.

“Your only niece.”

“All the easier to interfere with her life.” Diane smiled. “So maybe you should go find Patty, before you have to leave in the morning.” Diane looked around. “I'm kinda surprised she's not here already…”

With one last hug, and a promise to try, Allison wished Diane luck. "You can leave the door stopper in," Allison said, "it'll force me to get out of bed." Diane laughed as she left to return to the reception. Good for her, Allison thought. At least someone's life wasn't all fucked up. 

Allison knew that she should listen, that she should find Patty, talk to Patty. They had a date to do just that, after all. But Patty saw her leave and yet—she wasn't here. Wouldn't this be the first place to look?

Allison pulled the robe tighter around herself. It was cold in the room. Had been all week. But she could change that. She went over and turned down the air conditioning, which had been blasting. She debated taking down her hair, but she just didn't feel like it. Maybe she'd indulge in a hard seltzer. She grabbed one from the mini bar and laughed, though she almost wanted to cry. She went to open the can and scraped her nail, which she saw was already destroyed from her picking at dinner. Thank god she hadn't done acrylics. She took a sip. Shit, it was bitter. Grapefruit. Ah. She started to wonder if whiskey wasn't a better idea. But there wasn't any in the room. Could she maybe order room service? What was another twenty bucks for a mini bottle? She winced, and took another sip of the already overpriced seltzer.

She turned on her TV, flipped through the channels, until she found one of those PBS specials where all the old 60s motown groups sang in concert. Based on the audience, this one looked about . . . thirty-five years old. She scooted back on the bed and closed her eyes, listening to the music and trying to ignore the voice in her head that was telling her she was slowly running out of time. She didn’t hear the knock until it was pretty loud.

“Shit,” she quickly hit the down volume button on the remote. “Come in!” No doubt Diane came back to tell her to get out there and—

“Hey,” Patty said, stepping through the door, roller bag in hand. Her hair was still done, but she was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and flannel. Allison had never seen anything so beautiful in her entire life.

“Oh, I thought—I thought you were Diane.”

“Is this—is this a bad time?” Patty asked, looking around. Although the look in her eyes was not worried, but amused.

Allison looked at her, puzzled. “No,” she said. But she wasn't sure what to add.

“Because I am a bit, um, late for um . . .” Patty smiled, sheepishly. “A very important date. So to speak.” 

“Are you?” Allison asked. “Why?”

“Funny you should ask,” Patty paused. “Would you like to know?” Her face continued to betray her amusement at—something.

“I am—all ears. Sit down, stay a while,” Allison looked at the suitcase. “Unless you, um, were about to leave?”

“Oh, yeah, I'll get to that,” Patty said, rolling the suitcase to the corner and sitting down in an armchair next to the bed. Allison was propped up on some pillows, and had swung her legs up underneath her for, well, modesty. She kinda wished she had actually put some clothes on.

“Sounds intriguing,” Allison said, with absolutely no idea where any of this was going. But any time Patty was nearby and smiling at her was—enough. 

“Well,” Patty began. “You saw Tammy's little interruption.”

“Ah, yeah, so about that—” Allison started. She wanted to apologize for her outburst. It wasn't Patty’s fault.

Patty waved her hand, dismissing the concern. “Easy mistake,” she said, “I was a little bit in shock or I would've tried to explain.”

“So Tammy and Renée, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah. I'll get to that.”

Allison wondered how long this story was going to take.

“After Renée walked up to Tammy and they made out on the dance floor for several minutes, I had, uh, the wherewithal to come, uh, find you.”

“That must've been a really long time then.” Allison couldn't imagine it. Wasn't sure she wanted to, really. Maybe it was a good thing she left. 

“Well—no.”

“I see.” But then what took so long?

“You will.” Patty cleared her throat. “I was told, a few days ago, by a very meddling Renée, that you were in, um, room 206.”

“But this is—”

Patty held her hand up again. “So I get to room 206, which is um, a lovely (cough) room, and the door is propped open, the room completely empty,” Patty cleared her throat again—this time it appeared she might be covering some emotion. “No luggage, no toiletries, nothin’.”

Allison just nodded.

“So naturally,” (slight cough), “I thought you had left altogether. That I got there too late. And, well, I—”

“Oh.” Allison could see that Patty was trying to ignore how this had made her feel. “Well I'm—” 

“Went back—” Patty continued. 

“—here,” Allison finished.

“—to my room to sulk.” Patty smiled, her eyes sad. “I may have had a glass of wine—well, a swallow or two of wine from the—” Patty cleared her throat. “Anyway, I got myself out of that dress somehow,” she made a face that told Allison it might no longer be intact, “—and I was ready for a long night of sad movies. I was willing to pay-per-view, even. But luckily, Beaches was on—was just starting, actually, so I grabbed that wine bottle and was sitting—not unlike you, right now, ready to bawl my eyes out.” There was a pause and Patty sniffed for a second. “Excuse me—just um, thinkin’ about the movie.”

“Of course. So how'd you end up here?” Allison was doing her best to ignore the looks behind Patty's smiles. She was here now, right?

“Well, there I am, watching C.C. and Hillary write back and forth, or whatever,” Patty waved her hand, “when the lock on my door buzzes and the door swings open—bangs against the wall, actually.”

A small smile started to creep up one side of Allison’s face, despite herself.

“You'll never guess,” Patty said, amusement returning a sparkle to her eyes. 

Allison raised an eyebrow.

“Tammy and Renée, thinking the room was empty.” Patty nodded, with a sigh of mild exasperation. “Because I was—no doubt—with you.”

Allison couldn't help but laugh. She hadn't felt so much like laughing all day.

“As I come to find out, Renée was just bluffing the other day. She knew I wouldn't go to your room, so she just made some shit up. And of course, I believed her, because she always seems to know everything.” Patty rolled her eyes.

Allison smiled. “316,” she gestured around her. “Also a lovely room.”

“So I found out. After packing my bag for the night and wandering around. I went back to the wedding, looked for Molly—who was also nowhere to be found—and eventually Diane spotted me and saved the fucking day.”

Allison nodded again. “Glad you made it. Guess I should've come to find you. Might’ve saved time.”

“No! If you hadn't been here, I woulda been stuck.”

“Stuck?”

“Without somewhere to stay.” Her eyes were wide with implication. 

“And who says you're stayin’ here?” Allison smiled.

“I thought I'd try one of your tricks,” Patty said, with a smirk that made Allison's stomach flip.

“Ah.”

“But first, um.” Patty cleared her throat yet again.

“You gettin’ a cold or somethin'?”

Patty scoffed. “I think you asked for a dance. Before we were so . . . rudely interrupted.” A familiar slow song had just begun on the TV. Patty got up, reached out her hand, casually, like it didn't matter.

Allison, as smoothly as she could, climbed down off the bed. “I—I'm not exactly dressed for this,” she said, laughing awkwardly, looking down at the fluffy robe.

Patty looked down at her own outfit. “Neither am I. Nor am I good at it,” she acknowledged, with a shrug. “But you asked.”

Allison nodded, and stepped forward. Earlier, she had worked up the courage to do this—but for some reason it seemed easier when everyone else was doing it. They were about a foot from one another, and Allison reached up to put her arms around Patty’s neck—a carryover from her high school days—pressing her body up against someone in the high school gym with the excuse that they were just dancing, after all. 

But she withdrew her arms again quickly. “Oh, um, is it okay if I—” she started. Whose arms should go where?

Patty laughed. At her. And she put a hand on each side of Allison's waist, at the belt of her robe, and pulled her in, her hands meeting at the small of Allison's back. “There,” Patty said.

Allison lifted her arms back up, brushing against Patty on the way up, almost causing her to jump, and placed them back around Patty’s neck. She was still separated, slightly, leaning back from the waist at an awkward angle, their faces a few inches apart.

Patty leaned forward, her head to the side of Allison's and spoke in her ear. “You've done this before, right? You were Miss Popular.” Allison was thankful Patty didn’t bring up her own wedding dance.

There was something about not having to face Patty directly, about having Patty’s mouth so close to her ear, that allowed Allison to relax and melt into it. They were touching all the way down now. It was difficult to ignore.

“Better.” Patty said.

“Mhm,” Allison said, and closed her eyes, listening to the music. She let out a deep breath, and along with it, so many worries of the past several months. This was all she ever wanted.

“Do you mind, actually, if I stay here?” Patty asked in her ear. As if Allison could tell her no right then.

Before Allison could form any words to answer, Patty continued. “Because I don't wanna know what's going on in my room.”

Allison, surprised at Patty joking at a time like this, began to laugh, which only made it more obvious how much they were touching. She stopped. “Do you think—?” she started to ask.

“They were halfway there when they opened the door. I was lucky to get out of there alive.”

Another laugh escaped Allison, but the image also made her think of—she blocked it out. “Jesus,” she said.

“Tell me about it.”

“Is it weird for you—” Allison started. “I mean, since you—since you, like, slept with both of them?”

“Not just next to?” Patty was smiling.

“Shut up. Slept with. Is it weird?” Allison wasn't sure why she was asking, although the fluttering in her belly made her think she was, well, anxious. She was thinking about it all a little too much. The comparisons. Regarding what they might do . . . soon. Which Allison was pretty sure she wanted. Did Patty?

Patty seemed surprised by the question for a second. “How do you even know that I did?”

Allison scoffed. “Right.”

“I mean, sure, Tammy lived with me, but Renée—”

Allison stepped back. “Hold on. Don't lie. Again.”

Patty's mouth hung open at Allison's words.

“Oh, I know,” she said. She definitely did.

“What are you talking about?” Patty eyed her warily.

“On your first date, too. You little—” Allison was half joking, though the memory was a painful one.

“The—wait—how would you know—?”

Allison sighed. “You left the door wide open.”

“No we didn't.” Patty crossed her arms.

Allison raised an eyebrow.

“It was locked when I went out to smoke—”

Allison tilted her head. “Who else had a deadbolt key?”

Patty looked horrified. 

“If you heard a trash can lid fall over on the way in, that was me, too.”

Patty just stood there, dumbfounded. And her face just morphed, from shock to worry to—a profound sadness.

“What's wrong?” Allison asked. It had been upsetting at the time, sure, but she was just trying to give Patty a hard time. She wasn’t trying to—

“Nothin’, nothin’,” Patty said. And the look on her face was so heartbreaking that Allison stepped forward again, arms around her neck, and wrapped them into a hug, before continuing the soft swaying of the dance.

“I didn't mean to upset you.”

“I'm sorry,” Patty said.

“For what? I should be sorry. I was the one spyin’ on you from across the street.”

“I lied to you and that's how you found—”

“I was tipped off, remember?”

Patty was silent.

“That's why I called you. It was the busiest fuckin’ night Bev's had all fall and I stepped out to call you just to see if you would admit you had a date. I lied, too. All over the place, lies.” Allison laughed, a little nervously. It was embarrassing how pathetic she had been.

Patty let out a little laugh that was almost like a cry.

“But I know now,” Allison said, softly, bringing her mouth close to Patty's ear.

“Know what?”

The music had played on, transitioning smoothly to a new song, though it was petering out now, the chorus repeating, and Allison bit her lip, deciding whether she could finally tell the truth. “I was so jealous. Of Renée. I didn't fully understand it, then, I was confused, but—I know now—I just—wanted it to be me. In her place.” Somehow, with the TV on, with the movement, Allison was able to find the words. “It fucked me up. I was angry. At you. At Renée. At me. It’s no wonder I picked a fight with you.”

Patty stilled. The music had just stopped, after a round of applause, the announcers had started hawking CDs for four easy payments of 29.99.

Patty was silent for a minute, like she was listening and memorizing the toll-free number to call later. But then she spoke, her voice scratchy. “I wanted it to be you.”

Allison's throat constricted, her ears felt funny, her head light.

Patty kept going. “You know, I wish—I wish when you told me you loved me, that day on the couch, I would have just kissed you then. To hell with whether you meant it that way or not. Then, at least if we weren’t going to talk for a year it would have been worth it.”

It took Allison a second to realize what Patty meant. But then she remembered. Hadn't she said it all the time? She should have. “I do—love you,” Allison said, trying to breathe between words and mostly failing. “That way,” she added in a whisper, lest her words be confused again. 

Patty pulled her head back and looked Allison in the eye. Allison, in turn, held her gaze. “I believe you,” Patty said, but Allison wasn't sure she really did. Not really. 

“Then why don't you kiss me now?” Allison asked, the courage coming, perhaps, from a sense of time passing too quickly. Of the already immense waste of it. As the word kiss left her mouth, Allison felt Patty's hands grip tighter around her waist. And then Patty stepped back. Allison could see it in her eyes. Everything she wanted to say. She looked at Allison's lips, and as she brought hers forward, it was all there between them. The misunderstandings of the past few years, all the sorrow of their time apart, of fifteen years of animosity, it was all being answered in a simple kiss.

Allison couldn't understand how something so tame could make her whole body feel like it was on fire. As soon as Patty pulled away, Allison moved forward again, she needed more. But Patty seemed to be holding back—her hands still sat where they had been around Allison’s waist, though her thumbs were moving in time with the music, fussing with the belt of the robe, like she wanted to pull at it, but wasn’t—for some reason. Breaking off for a second, Allison spoke again, voice low and close to Patty's ear. “Where was this self-control earlier when you were zipping up my dress?”

Patty let out a kind of low chuckle. “Seventeen years. What's another few minutes?” Another song had begun. “I thought you wanted to dance.”

“I did.”

“Then what are you complaining about?”

Allison growled in frustration. “I gotta leave at six for an early flight,” she kissed the skin below Patty's ear, “so that means I gotta wake up at four—”

Before Allison could finish her rant, her mouth was occupied. 

As it turned out, she was glad she never bothered to get dressed.

—

Allison didn't want to move. She would have to, but she didn't want to. Patty had fallen asleep beside her, all the while insisting she didn't sleep. She never slept. The slight snore said otherwise, but it was a welcome sound to Allison's ears. She'd listen to it all night. All day. Whenever.

Otherwise, Allison was antsy. She knew she had to go, and yet there was nowhere she would rather be than right here. Forever. Well, maybe she could concede and return to Patty's place—once their place. She wished it could be, again. Though she'd miss this bed—very comfortable, excellent memories. She reluctantly rose and went to the sink.

—

“Hey, hey Patty,” Allison called softly, once she was out of the shower and dressed. She had on her full get-up, the skirted version, and she realized how much she hadn't missed it. She placed a hand on Patty's shoulder and gave her a little shake.  

“Huh?” Patty said, groggy, though when she opened her eyes, the smile she had on her face gave Allison butterflies.

“I have to get going,” Allison said. “I have to catch that flight out of Boston this morning.”

Patty's eyebrows furrowed. “Is it morning already?”

Allison nodded. “I wish that—” she sighed, “—but I took as much time off as I could. I didn't know—”

Patty’s smile faded. “Ah,” she said.

“But I'll see you soon, okay? I promise.” Allison leaned down and kissed Patty's hairline. Then, unable to help it, kissed her lips, too. Just to make sure she hadn't dreamed the whole thing. 

As Allison pulled away, Patty looked dazed. Maybe she was thinking the same thing. 

“You have the room until noon,” Allison added. “I won't check you out early.”

Patty shook her head, as if to say “I don't care about that.” “But you'll—” Patty started. She looked Allison up and down, as if finally seeing her uniform. “You have to fly,” she stated, like a conclusion. Not one she necessarily liked.

“Just for a little while,” Allison said. “I'll miss you the whole time.”

Patty's eyes looked wet. What was it? 

“Will you be—okay?” Allison asked.

“Yeah, yep.” Patty said. “Have fun,” she said.

Allison, not liking how this was going, nevertheless had lingered so long that she now needed to rush. “This conversation isn't over,” she said, kissing Patty again. “Just know that.” With one last long look, she grabbed her bags and left the room.

Molly and Ty were outside in the hallway, waiting for her.

“Hard to leave?” Ty asked. It was hard to tell if he understood why.

Allison nodded. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Molly smiled. “But isn't it exciting? In a few weeks, we could all be in Paris!”

“Paris?” Allison asked. “Do we fly to Texas now?”

Molly and Ty just laughed, but Allison remained confused as they exited the hotel and all piled into the rental car.

Allison sat in the backseat and leaned her forehead against the side window. She was starting to feel an ache behind her eyes, some kind of sinus pressure, and the cool glass felt good on her skin. 

A memory from earlier in the week came back to her. Molly coming out of the interview, her smile wide. She got the job. She must know Ty did, too. 

“You were talking about the international job,” Allison called to the front seat to be heard over the radio, answering her own question from fifteen minutes earlier. 

Molly turned around briefly. “Of course. What else?” Molly laughed. 

What else? Allison thought. Then she realized what the weird sinus pressure was. 

She wanted to cry. 

Allison took her earbuds out of the case in the front pocket of her suitcase, placing them in her ears to block out the jabbering lovebirds in the front. She wasn't in the mood. Then she leaned her head back against the headrest and let the tears fall. Molly and Ty never even noticed.

Chapter Text

Part IV:

The slightest mis-apprehension, baby

We'd have passed each other by

A month later

In her dreams Patty was always running. Running through the hotel hallways, running through airports. Running after Allison, who was always running away.

She'd wake up, annoyed that she had to spend what little sleep she got anxious and running. She just wanted to sit still. On her front porch, Allison by her side. Preferably.

At least she had learned to admit it.

But she knew it was her own damn fault. You don't tell someone they need to get out there and do things, and then resent it when they do. Patty knew Allison always wanted to see places. She was getting to do it. And now she was going to see Europe—London, Paris, Rome, probably Madrid, Lisbon—Patty scraped her mind for more capitals, but she didn’t really know. Allison had never said. But in Patty’s mind, it was Allison's dream job. It would take Allison everywhere her little heart had ever desired to go.

And then, in between, maybe she'd come see Patty. Every so often.

Or not very often.

Or once even.

They didn't really get to talk about it.

Sure, they could text. But Patty felt weird about it. She couldn’t send, well, love messages. To Allison. 

And Allison, for her part, had been very cagey about when she'd be back in town. It didn't help that she didn't live there anymore. She lived in Boston when she lived anywhere. She stayed in hotels otherwise. 

But Allison kept saying “I'll see you soon.” Rather, “I'll see you soon!" because that little exclamatory flourish was like a raised vocal inflection and a little half smile. 

Patty just had to trust that it was true.

Would this be how it was from now on?

Patty felt she could do it. She didn't need someone around all the time. There were plenty of other things to do. The things she had always done.

Cut hair. For one example.

Get Dunkies. Another.

Go to the library—yet another example.

So she did those things. Just like she always did.

Upon Patty entering the library that morning, Judi looked up and smiled. “Long time no see!”

“It's been a few—” Patty started.

“Six weeks, Patty. Because I'm due for an appointment.” Judi raised an eyebrow.

“Whenever you want. Usual time is always free. You know that.”

Judi smiled, satisfied. “We have a lot to catch up on, I think. Speaking of which—”

Patty had a feeling there were some questions coming. The last time they had caught up was right before the wedding.

Judi rooted around behind the desk. “Ah, here it is.”

Patty gave her a questioning look. 

“The book. The one your friend borrowed. She was in here the other day to return it.”

Judi handed her the book. Circe. 

“She said it was easier than Ulysses, but she prefers the story the way it was.” Judi chuckled. “Something about a captain’s widow. She was very adamant.”

“My friend?” Allison knows Greek mythology? Allison was here?

“Yeah.”

“I thought—I just assumed you meant Allison. That's what your little smirk was about.”

“Of course I did.” Judi smiled, a sparkle seeming to form in her eye.

“She was here? Recently?”

“Yesterday, I think.”

“Oh.” Patty frowned. Allison hadn't said anything. She was at the Worcester Library and she hadn't stopped to see Patty. Didn't she know by now that Patty wanted to see her? Isn't that what . . .

Judi saw the look on Patty's face and her own smile faded. “I didn't mean to upset you—is something wrong?”

“No. No,” Patty shook her head. 

Judi looked at her, a trace of disappointment In her eyes. “You want to talk about it?”

Patty shook her head again. She could feel the betrayal of tears forming behind her eyes. Shit.

Judi raised an eyebrow. “We’ll catch up next week at my appointment. Read that book. Let me know how it goes.”

Patty nodded, taking the book and moving rather quickly out the door. She paused on the sidewalk, pinching the bridge of her nose, trying to pull herself together. What the hell was this? This was exactly why she never got her hopes up. There was too much to lose when they never materialized.

—

Later, as she walked to her house, she found Neil sitting on the porch. She had almost forgotten he lived there, she had seen him so little in the past few months. 

“What're ya doin'?” she asked, sizing him up. 

“Waiting for you,” he said with a shrug.

“Don't you usually just make yourself at home on the couch?” She leaned against the railing and pulled out a cigarette. She had been doing so well, but today was just a little too much.

Neil shrugged again. “It's rude to come in when you're not there.”

Patty inhaled deeply, staring at Neil like he had grown another head. “You been talkin’ to Renée again?” What did he want? Money?

“Nah, I just—I know I've never been real great to you. And you've done a lot. So—”

Patty nearly had a coughing fit. Recovering, she put out the cigarette. She clearly couldn’t handle it. “Jesus, Neil. What do you want? You need extra time for rent?”

“I just paid it!” he said. 

He was right. He had just paid it. Early. “Sorry if I'm not used to this consideration.”

“Okay, I deserve that.” Neil got up from the stairs. Patty walked up another step so she could meet him more at eye level.

“What is up with you?” she asked, looking him in the eye.

“Anyway, I . . . I actually found a new place, so I don't have to live here anymore.”

“You don't have to?”

“Well, if that's okay. Maybe you, like, needed the money. So I found a new tenant for you.” He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans, which made him look like a five year old asking for permission to go out and play.

The surprises just kept on coming. “You did.”

“Yeah. I know you might want to approve, or whatever, so I set up a time for you to meet ’em at Bev's on Saturday.”

“I work on Saturday, Neil. I have clients.”

“Saturday morning before you open,” Neil said, rolling his eyes.

“You've got an answer for everything?” Patty just shook her head. Who was this guy?

Neil straightened up, proud of himself. “I said I could do it.”

“So someone did put you up to this. I can't believe Renée is still interfering in—she should be busy with—” 

“Renée didn't put me up to this! I actually—I've been seein’ this girl, and we're gonna move in together, and—”

Patty's eyes shot open. “Are you kidding me? Does she know how big of a mess—?” Patty stopped. Was she capable of giving Neil the benefit of the doubt? Should she start?

Neil, to his credit, didn't get defensive. “Well, you can meet her soon. And you'll see she's not crazy just for datin’ me.” Neil folded his arms. 

“Okay,” Patty said, baffled. “So wait, though. I'm supposed to meet some guy at Bev’s Saturday morning?”

“Be at Bev's at 8. Plus Sam said he hasn't talked to you in months, so leave some time for that.”

“You're friends with Sam now? Who are you?”

“Just because you haven't been paying attention doesn't mean life isn't happening without you.”

“Not paying attention?”

“You've been moping.” Neil stood up, and gave Patty a slap on the back, before he started off down the sidewalk.

“Are you sure you haven't been talking to Renée?” she called out after him. He waved off her comment and kept walking.  

Patty got out her phone and dialed Renée. She hadn't spoken to her since the morning after the wedding, when she had gone back to her room to get her stuff. And proceeded to awkwardly stand outside the room until Renée and Tammy had emerged about ten minutes before checkout.

“Hey! Long time no talk!” Renée answered the phone, snapping Patty back to the present.

“Have you been plotting with Neil again?” Patty asked without any preliminaries.

Renée laughed. “I haven't seen him since that day at the bar.”

“Are you sure?”

“Would I lie?” 

“Yes.”

“Okay, well I'm not lying.” In the background Patty could hear something that sounded like. “Ohhhh she called you out.”

“Are you sure?” Patty asked again. The whole thing just sounded like something Renée would have orchestrated.

“Patty, I promise you, I'm done interfering in your life. I've got my own life to worry about.” There was some additional discussion in the background, and Renée covered the phone, but it sounded like she said “That's right. I'm talking about you.”

“You're sickening,” Patty said. 

Renée laughed. “I bet you're just as sickening these days. Nothing like a little happiness to make everyone disgusted by you, right?”

Patty wanted to groan, but she was afraid to give away how happy she wasn't. “Something like that.”

“We'll have to go out, all four of us, sometime soon,” Renée suggested. Patty could hear a groan in the background. “Oh suck it up, we're friends,” Renée said in response to the groan.

“Good luck making that happen,” Patty offered, thinking it wasn't just Tammy's reluctance that would be the problem.

“Tammy will get over herself,” Renée said, followed by an “Ow! That hurt!”

“I wouldn't want to start any fights,” Patty said. She smiled despite herself. At least she felt like she had gained a friend out of all this. “So you swear you haven't talked to Neil?”

“I swear,” Renée said solemnly. 

“I guess I believe you,” Patty said. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“You weren't interrupting anything,” Renée said. “Call anytime, okay? I'm a friend in good times, too,” she said, a sincerity in her voice that rarely made it through.

“Of course.” Patty really hoped Renée didn't say what Patty thought she'd say next. But of course she did.

“Tell Allison I said hi.”

There it was. “Mhm,” Patty mumbled. “Gotta go.” She hung up a little too quickly. Why did everyone assume that everything had been resolved? It was one night. There were years of issues to get through yet. Not to mention the necessity of ever being in the same place at the same time. 

That would certainly help.

Probably.

—

Saturday morning, Patty felt incredibly grumpy. She resented that Neil had set this weird meeting up without asking her, that he had made it so early, that she would have to somehow make conversation with some stranger when all she really needed to know was whether they could pay. And not destroy the place. 

She'd probably settle for just the former.

She also resented the fact that it was at Bev's. She'd have to chat with Sam. Who would ask her about Allison. Or, rather, not ask her about Allison, just keep asking questions about “how she was” in ways that made it very clear what he was getting at.  

She wondered what he knew. She certainly hadn't told him anything, but Allison might have. Or maybe Allison didn't think much of the whole thing. Maybe it was not a big deal to her. Maybe . . . 

The smile on Sam's face when she arrived told Patty that he knew something. And then he gave her a hug. Which confirmed it.

Maybe Renée had been here. She did like that egg white spinach bullshit. She would betray Patty's confidence like that (okay, so maybe betray was a little harsh).

“Hey, hey, I am so happy you're finally back. I've missed you,” Sam said, and Patty actually believed him. “Why don't you sit over in our usual booth,” Sam ushered her over as if she were an honored guest. “I may be by later to chat more,” Sam said. “But for now the new girl is supposed to have your table. Don't know where she's off to—I'll see—” Sam said this with a funny little smile that made Patty wonder what was wrong with the new girl.

“Do you know anything about the person I'm supposed to meet here? Neil set up—?”

Sam looked at her blankly.

“Someone that wants to rent Neil's apartment when he moves in with his girlfriend?”

A smile of recognition came to Sam's face. “Oh, no, I don't know anything about that,” he said, his voice deadpan.

“Then what's with the fuckin’ smile?” Patty said, starting to be annoyed at all the weirdness she'd been encountering. She felt like she was stuck in The Truman Show. “Am I on some prank show? Why is everyone so fuckin' weird lately?”

Sam laughed. “I know nothing. I'll see what's keeping your server.” He went back to the supply room and Patty was left to peruse the menu, as if she didn't have it memorized. 

There were a few new things, though. Some of which even sounded edible. She was lost in thought regarding whether blueberry pancakes sounded good or disgusting when she heard someone behind her. 

“Figure out what you want?” 

She wasn’t very polite, this new girl, assuming that's who it was. But she sounded awfully like—

Patty turned, and standing in front of her was Allison, in a Bev's uniform, holding a notepad and a pot of coffee.

“Regular?” Allison asked.

Not very, Patty thought. “Umm, yeah. Yes.” She could only stare. She would've liked to say something, but nothing was coming to mind.

Allison filled Patty's cup. “This is actually better than it was when I was last here. Like, much better.”

Patty thought perhaps she could use a jolt, so she took a sip. Shit. It was better.

“See what I mean?” Allison smiled.

Patty just nodded. “Yeah.”

“So, have you decided? Allison asked. Why did it keep sounding like she was talking more than just food?

“Uhhhhh,” Patty's word formation was lacking.

“The bacon, egg, and cheese is also much improved. Sam said I should make you try it.”

“Sam said?” Patty scoffed. “I'm the one who told him to fix it. A year ago at least.”

“So Patty is in there somewhere,” Allison said, waving her hand in front of Patty's face as though she had been hypnotized.

Patty did her best to snap out of it. “What—what are you doing here?”

Allison smiled. “I work here.”

“Since when?”

Allison checked her non-existent watch. “About….this morning.” She laughed. “Not counting a year ago. And the year before that. Turns out I'm a very fickle employee.”

“But—how are you going to work here and fly all over the world?”

“That's an easy one.” Allison smiled. “I'm not.”

Patty still wasn't getting it. “But what about Paris?”

“I realized, you know, if I wanted to go to Paris, we could just—save our money and—go to Paris.”

“We?”

“I don't know why I'd go without you.” Allison walked over to the counter and put the coffee down, coming back to the table. Patty hadn't even blinked. “Do you mind if I sit?”

Patty started to protest, but Allison sat down across from her.

“I was thinking,” Allison started, effectively cutting off Patty's excuses. “Do you mind if I move back in? I heard Neil’s found another place.”

Patty suddenly remembered their conversation at the baseball game. Is that what Allison had meant to do the whole time? “Shit.”

“What?” Allison looked ready to laugh. Patty had that feeling again that she was on camera somewhere.

Patty sighed. “I’m supposed to be meeting with—” she started, when Allison tilted her head and gave her a look, like are you serious?

It took Patty a second. “You?”

“Who else?”

“How did you find out he wanted to move—?” Patty was so behind. “Before I did?”

“I have my ways.” Allison just smiled.

Patty sat there, a little stunned. She took a deep breath. “How is it that every time you go away and come back, I'm the last to know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don't do that—don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.”

“I—” Allison started to protest, but she had nothing.

“Why? When I'm the one who wants to see you the most?”

The words seemed to surprise Allison. “Well, I needed to—”

“You needed to nothing, you could've shown up on my doorstep at three in the morning.”

Allison just looked at her, struck a little dumb.

“You don't need to make everything perfect first. Or anything. Just—”

Allison surged forward, leaning across the table, and kissed Patty. Thankfully, she missed the coffee, though a fork went skittering off the end of the table and clattering on the ground.

As the pressure of Allison's lips gradually receded, Patty cleared her throat. “What was that for?”

“I wanted to do that since you got here. You said I didn't have to make it perfect.”

“Oh.”

They stared at each other for a bit, when Sam came by with some food, that Patty had forgotten to order, and Allison had forgotten to serve. Sam stood there for a minute or so, hoping to be acknowledged, before just giving up and walking away.

“There’s one thing I want to know.” Patty said, after a few bites of a halfway decent sandwich.

“Yeah?” Allison was eating ravenously. Patty figured she must still be swimming.

“You were off to your job again, I thought I'd never get to see you.  I thought we'd be long distance or something—”

Allison shook her head, vehemently, as if to say that was never the plan.

“Then when did you decide to come back?” Patty asked.

“Well, we were at the dress fitting when I got a call for the interview for the new job and I realized—I just—didn't want it. At all.”

“So everything before that—you broke into that detective's office—made me break in with you—was to get that job. And then you just . . .give it up?”

“I didn't think you'd spend time with me without a good reason. And I think I just wanted—” Allison smiled sheepishly, “to do somethin’ stupid with you.”

“Are you—” Patty was going to say insane, she was going to say off your rocker. She smiled instead. “Of course you are,” she said to herself.  “Somethin’ stupid, huh?”

"But you did it. I don't really know why . . . "

“I do," Patty said. "Because I missed doin’ stupid shit with you.” She shrugged. It was true.

Allison's smile was big, a full-mouthed silly grin. One she rarely had occasion to use, as far as Patty could remember.

"You know, I don't really want you to move into Neil's apartment," Patty said. "As long as we're being honest."

"What, why?" Allison's face fell. 

"And I know you set this whole thing up, but I'm not completely convinced he won't be back in three weeks asking to move back in."

"Well yes, but—" Allison was ready to get very defensive, Patty could see it.

"So you should probably just—" Allison was on edge, her eyes worried, ready to protest. "—move in with me, instead." Patty smirked, ready for Allison to groan.

But Allison's smile was too self-satisfied. She started to laugh. Just a little, at first, and then outright, like she couldn’t stop herself.

"What?" It was Patty's turned to be confused.

Allison managed to stop laughing for a second. "Neil doesn't even have a girlfriend. He's not going anywhere."

"What?"

"We're just fucking with you."

"We?"

"That part was Renée's idea."

What a goddamn liar. Patty nodded. "Of course." At least they were getting along.

"I think she takes credit for us," Allison said. "Like we never would have gotten anywhere without her fucking everything up for a while."

If it makes her feel better. "You think so?"

Allison considered. She shook her head. "I think one of us would've slipped eventually."

Hmm. What would that have looked like? "Guess we'll never know." Patty raised an eyebrow, and Allison just smiled.

"Guess not," she said with a shrug. 

Patty never thought she'd be thankful for the sequence of events, but maybe she should be.

It could have been so much worse.