The Best Friend

by K Larsen

  “Well, Luna, are you ready to get your body back?” I snort at her quick wit.

  “Why am I so weak?” I ask.

  Mim perches on the edge of my bed. “Your muscles haven’t been used for weeks. You’ll need to build them up again. Shouldn’t be too bad. You’re young and strong.”

  I arch a brow at her as her lips stretch ear to ear. I have a feeling she’s going to torture me.

  Mim and I spend an hour strengthening my muscles, the goal is to be able to walk on my own again, shower alone, be able to hold my arms up without getting winded again. When her hour with me is up, I have to sit down in the shower. The hot water pelts my skin. It reminds me of the rain in the jungle. Irritation gushes through me. Was there even a jungle? I let the water course over the knots in my shoulders and down my back. I can’t trust my own thoughts. It makes my blood boil. I use up the last of my effort attempting to wash my hair. I turn the water off and realize I can’t reach a towel. I can’t even stand up without my legs feeling like they’re going to crumble under me.

  “Hey! Hey. I’m done in here. Little help?” I call out. I try to hoist myself to my feet but my legs are jelly. “Hello?” I shout. “Invalid in need here.” I snort at myself while simultaneously feeling a surge of anger. I’m naked, wet and growing chilly.

  Finally, the door cracks open.

  “Aub?”

  I squeal at Nora’s voice. “I’m naked!”

  I hear a muffled laugh and then a towel enters the bathroom clutched in a hand from behind the door. I snatch it from her and maneuver it around me best I can.

  “Ok. Safe.”

  She pokes her head in and smiles.

  “How are you?”

  My eyes widen at her. “How am I? I fuckin’ ate my innocence for dinner, my sanity for breakfast and my faith for lunch. If I had a heart, I’d have it for dessert at this point.”

  She stares at me, silent, her smile vanishing. “Welcome to my iniquity. I’m so sorry, Aub. I wish darkness never touched your vibrancy.” It hits me then that Nora may be the only person who can understand where I’m at right now.

  A shiver jumps up my spine and Nora says, “Lemme grab you clothes.” But being half naked isn’t what chilled me. Nora endured so much worse for so much longer than I did. She appears again with sweatpants and a hoodie and I think, if she could, I can. It’s the reminder I needed. Nora always had a way of doing that, being my cheerleader at the right time.

  She helps me dress before running a brush through my hair and all I can think about is how there is no way I made up memories. As she helps me back to my bed, and let’s be honest, by help, she nearly bears my full weight, I say, “Mike’s hiding something.”

  Nora straightens my blankets over me and grins. “That is just the amalgamation of your subconscious. He was a figment of your broken psyche, because you’ve been secretly in love with him since you met him.”

  “A, I don’t even know what amalgamation means and B, even in my subconscious I’d never admit to being in love with him.” I catch her hand and hold it. She sinks into the bed near my hip.

  “A, the action of combining or uniting. B, yes, you would. Because … love trumps sanity,” she spouts off.

  “I’m really struggling to make sense of this, Nora.”

  She pushes at my hip and I scoot as best I can to one side of the bed. She crawls in next to me and we both stare at the ceiling. Her hand claims mine between our bodies. “I know. It’s okay.” We stay just like that for a long time.

  We’ve never needed to discuss things in depth. Although Nora loves her words, her silence and mine, I suppose, speak volumes too. In high school when we delved into osmosis, I’d joked that, that was how Nora and I communicated. That simply by being near each other, we gradually soaked in each other’s feelings and assimilated each other’s thoughts.

  My stomach growls—loudly. Nora jackknifes up. “I forgot! I’m so distrait.”

  My face wrinkles up. I hate it when she uses her big, Nora words. “Huh?”

  “I brought a pizza, and popcorn and peanut M&Ms for dessert.” She walks to the door and grabs the handle. “Don’t give me that look Aub, it’s loaded baked potato pizza. I left it at the nurse’s station, let me grab it.” Absurd joy sweeps through me and for the moment everything is perfect. “Find us a good movie. Hospitals get the Lifetime channel, right?”

  I groan, I don’t want a Lifetime movie right now, I’m living one, but I can’t say no to Nora.

  20

  Mike

  Her room is scrupulously clean and organized. Flowers and get well cards. A teddy bear perched in a chair holding an I Love You balloon. She might be living in a hospital room, but that apparently, is no reason for slobbishness. I shouldn’t be here but I don’t like knowing she’s here alone. I want to be there for her any way I can. It’s after visiting hours, but no one seemed to notice me as I came through the halls. She opens her eyes. Blinks at me, startled and then smiles cautiously. Stretching stiff, aching muscles she props herself up. Her skin seems like paper.

  She’s in a loose, long-sleeved T-shirt that used to have the logo of Aimee’s middle school printed across the front. You can still see bits of it if you squint. The rest is faded and comfortably worn. Her hair is plaited into a haphazard braid down her back. There’s a shaved patch by her ear and that guilty stabbing feeling returns. I lift one hand in greeting. She wipes sleep from her eyes. I lick my lips, adjust my crotch. Just the sight of Aub does things to me that no other woman has done.

  “What time is it?” she asks and looks around the room.

  “Late.”

  “What are you doing here?” Her voice is low and sleep heavy.

  I hesitate because I don’t have an answer for her. By all sane reasoning I shouldn’t be here in the middle of the night. “I don’t know.”

  She stares at me a beat. “Okay,” she says, kicking the blankets off her legs.

  I swallow thickly and sit at the end of her bed. I lift her feet up onto my lap. She tilts her head at me. “I couldn’t sleep knowing you were back and alone here.”

  She yawns. “That’s sweet, but I’m okay. Unless, you know something I don’t,” she says going from humor to dread with whiplash speed.

  I shake my head at her. “Aubry.”

  “What do you smuggle?” she asks.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Don’t lie to me, Mike.” All I can do is lie. My whole life feels like a lie right now.

  “I’m not.” She eyes me. With a huff, she crosses her arms over her chest.

  “I remember things, Mike. Things that everyone’s telling me didn’t happen, but they felt so real.”

  “I know.” I massage her shin and calves.

  “You and me…” her voice cracks. “You were all that got me through. None of this makes sense to me now. It feels like I’ve gone backwards in time. From being … intimate with someone, and having and proclaiming, feelings for them, to all of a sudden having none of that. To be told it never happened? I know things. I felt things. We did things, said things, and only I remember it. Only I felt it? I don’t know what’s real. Which things were true and which I fabricated.” She yawns again and lets her head sink into her pillow.

  God, I wish I could say something to her to make this go away. “If I’m honest, Aub, I’d give anything to remember what you do.” She moves her feet from my lap and pats the bed by her hip.

  “Can you lay with me?” She looks so frail. The bed actually looks big around her.

  I want nothing more, but it feels wrong. Like I’m taking advantage, but I prop myself up near the head of the bed and let her rest her head on my chest, one arm slung over me.

  “Just for a few minutes,” I whisper. Staring up at the ceiling, I realize this moment is perfect. The hospital doesn’t matter. The shaved patch of hair on Aubry’s head doesn’t matter. The feeling that matters is the pressure of her body against mine. How natural her arm feels slung
over me. How calm my breath is and how hard my heart races being like this with her. The scent of fresh peeled oranges, of Aubry.

  I want to confess, to tell her what I promised myself I’d tell her. But I can’t do it. It would only confuse things. I don’t want to cause damage unnecessarily. And there is more to protect than just Aubry. An ongoing investigation. The motherfucking Russians. My reputation and life. I have to figure out how to deliver swift justice for Aubry that Salve and the law cannot. Business be damned. I don’t need the motherfucking money and if they think for a second that my loyalty lies in their payments, they’ll be surprised at the outcome.

  21

  Aubry

  I close my eyes, sleep coming over me. Mike holds my hand.

  "I didn't make it all up," I say but my voice sounds far away, the words lost.

  I notice the color behind my eyelids first. Yellow. I think back to that girl in one of my college classes who was obsessed with reiki.

  “Ok, now what?” I’d asked.

  “Shh, Aubry. Keep your eyes closed and if you notice any colors let me know after we’re done.”

  I’d lain there on her table, squeezing my eyes shut, wishing I was anywhere else. Wishing I was with Nora, not this hippie chick. But who was I to turn down a free session, especially one that promised to reset my center and balance my life. I needed that desperately. I was aimless and lost without Nora around. Her hands travel over my body and even though she’s not touching me and I can’t see her movements, I can feel her presence. Yellow fills the blank canvas that is the back of my eyelids.

  “Yellow,” I say.

  She sighs at me. “Open your eyes, Aubry.” I did as I was told and sit up too quickly. It left me feeling dizzy. “I said to wait until I was finished,” she says. I shrug.

  “So … what does yellow mean?”

  “That’s a good color. Yellow is the solar plexus chakra, it means working on personal power and confidence.” I stare at her, bewildered that some stupid color I saw with my eyes closed, perfectly summed up my insecurities at that moment in my life.

  As I open my eyes and rub the sleep from them I contemplate how powerless and unconfident I am—yet again. The sunlight streams through the window. The clock on the wall says it’s early still. I reach backward but I’m alone. Disappointment washes over me. Mike didn’t stay.

  I swing my legs off the bed. The floor is cold against the soles of my feet and I’m bombarded with memories of that room.

  I’m singing Woman at the top of my lungs. “I’m a motherfucking woman. I don’t need a man to holdin’ me tight.” There are sniffles from some as their tears die off and others hum along. And I just keep belting it out. Over and over. Because it reminds me, no us, that we’re strong. Stronger than this hellhole. Stronger than this situation. We’re still ourselves, deep, deep inside where the men cannot touch us with their brutality and harsh words. No slap or punch or kick can penetrate that secret corner of our souls that houses what’s left of our essence. We can sustain. Guilt eats at me because I am not subject to what the others are. Do they know? Can they deduce that screams of violation never come from my room? I am spared and for what?

  “You ready to use the bathroom?” I snap my head around to see the morning nurse standing mere feet from me. My chest is white hot and my breath coming short. “Honey? You okay?”

  I inhale sharply and nod. She loops her arm under my pit and helps me bear my own weight.

  It’s a slow journey across the room to the bathroom and I’m fatigued when I get there but I’m determined to get stronger.

  “You sure you’re okay?” the nurse asks.

  “Yeah. Just, groggy,” I lie.

  The breakfast menu is waiting for me when I make it back to bed. I circle my choices and hope to God that they aren’t room temperature or bland when they arrive. Mom visits while I’m trying to choke down my breakfast.

  “Morning, babe,” she says and holds up a plain brown bag which I can smell, knowing it contains the best everything bagel loaded with veggie cream cheese inside it. Salivating, I snatch the bag from her as she kisses my forehead.

  “I knew I loved you.”

  She laughs and makes herself comfortable in the chair nearest me. “You’d better.”

  Joking with mom is a luxury I wasn’t sure I’d have again just a few days ago. Hearing her voice, seeing her face, it makes me choke up. My eyes well with tears as I savor a bite of my favorite breakfast.

  “Everything okay?” she asks. I sniffle and nod.

  “Yeah, just sentimental, I guess.”

  “You always were the dramatic one.” She grins at me. Balking at her mock insult, I gasp and clutch my chest with my free hand. Because once my coveted bagel is in my grip, it doesn’t leave it until it’s gone. “How are things going? Was Dr. Richardson helpful?”

  I sigh. “I guess. I mean, it still baffles me that I could remember things that never happened. It makes my brain hurt trying to sort it out. But I also can't make sense of all of you being in on some secret to dupe me. I don’t know Mom, something is off. I feel it in my gut.”

  “Always trust your gut. And always trust your mom. I’m not duping you. No one is, as far as I know, but if you feel like something's amiss, don’t let anyone talk you out of it. I think you should continue to see Dr. Richardson for a while.”

  “Funny, Nora said the same thing.” I crack my knuckles knowing it irritates my mom. She narrows her eyes at me.

  “It can’t hurt,” she says.

  I exhale. “I just want to go home.”

  “I have your room all ready for you.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “I meant my apartment, Mom.”

  “You’ll need help still for a little bit. I think you should stay with me when you’re released. Just for a week or so.”

  I roll my eyes but agree to it because fighting with my mother on topics like this is useless. She shoots me a victorious look and I can’t help but smile at her.

  “I have to get to the greenhouse, but I’ll swing by later. If you need me just call.”

  “I’m okay, Mom. But thanks. I love you.”

  She kisses my forehead and whispers, “And I love you. To the moon.”

  “To the moon,” I whisper back.

  22

  Mike

  The Black is crowded and loud. Liquor flows and the smell of cooking meat hangs in the air. Liam nudges me as he scans the room nervously. He hasn’t been here since his falling out with his father. Neither of us are sure if he’s still welcome. There’s no way out of this but I knew as soon as Liam suggested it, I was screwed.

  My options are bleak at this point. If I come clean to Liam, I risk our friendship. If he found out I work with the Russians, he’d never forgive me. I can hear his words berating me in my head already. If anyone else knew, I’d risk jail time because one night someone would get drunk and say too much to the wrong person. That’s a gamble I’m not willing to take. The more people who know, the more leverage the Russians have on me as well and I couldn’t live with myself if anyone I care about got hurt because of me.

  I didn’t want to come and do this but I didn’t have a choice. I’ve lied my way this far and there’s no turning back. Liam’s only here because he wants to please Nora, and Nora wants answers. If I hadn’t agreed to this, Liam would have thought I didn’t care about Aubry, and that would be the biggest lie of all.

  But right now, watching Liam look for Gregor or Yuri has my heart pounding against my ribs. My lie to the Russians was my biggest and the most dangerous. When I radioed mechanical failure in that day, I told them I’d been thirty miles west of where I was because there had been a storm there at that time. I told them I hit severe turbulence, that the lock mechanism on the cargo door malfunctioned and that the contents of the plane that weren’t bolted down or strapped in, took a ten-thousand-foot drop through the sky and into the jungle.

  “Did you go back for the package?” Yuri asked.

  “No.”
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  “Text me the GPS location. I will send a clean-up crew.”

  “You got it.”

  “We expect repayment within three days.”

  “I understand. You’ll have it.”

  And he did. I refunded the fifty percent upfront payment without argument. I didn’t do this for the money anyway. As far as they knew, it was just a job gone wrong but I didn’t look at the goods. I didn’t know what I was flying for them and all was good.

  “There,” Liam says loud enough for only me to hear. I follow his line of sight until I spot Yuri. He sits in a corner booth, a glass of golden tinted liquid in front of him. A cigar hanging from his lips.

  “This is stupid. What the hell am I supposed to say?”

  “Just go sit. Ask if he heard about the shooting a couple nights ago. Get him talking. Then you can ask if he’s followed the missing girl case from the docks. See if he flinches.”

  “This isn’t going to work,” I say. And it won't because Yuri doesn’t flinch. But Liam doesn’t know that I’ve worked with Yuri and Gregor before. That I know them better than he does.

  “Won’t know unless you try.”

  He’s right about that. I can’t avenge Aubry unless I know all the facts and avenging Aubry is all I think about. Liam moves to the bar and sits. I head for Yuri’s booth.

  “Mike! I haven’t seen you around for a while.” He pounds the table, causing the liquid in his glass to ripple. “Sit. Drink.” I slide into the booth opposite him. “Candy! Bring my friend Mike a drink,” he yells.

  Candy’s head whips around from her perch across the room, she narrows her eyes at me before smirking.

  “What’s new?” Yuri asks.

  “Not much, keeping a low profile, you know, with all the strange things happening.”