Page 79 of Consumed By Fire

I’m not sure how she will react when she sees me. My hands feel a touch clammy as I move my bag from one shoulder to the other. My footsteps echo off the walls as I near her door. The faded wallpaper has started to peel in places, and some of the tiles are cracked. I think there might be a few more cracks since I was last here. I always saw her apartment as a little sanctuary where laughter and good times were always to be found. My stomach clenches. I hope it’s still the case. I pray she doesn’t slam the door in my face.

I see light under her door.

Good, she’s home.

I suck in a few breaths, and then I force myself to grow a pair and knock before I can chicken out.

“Coming.” She sounds upbeat.

My stomach churns some more. I think it might be knotting up.

It doesn’t take long for the door to open. Nova towers over me. Her hair is long and golden blonde. She’s toned and athletic in a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a white tank top.

Her mouth drops open, and she takes a step back, covering her mouth with her hand for a moment before smiling. “Trin, is that you? Holy smokes! I thought you had died or something.” She grins.

Okay, so far so good.

I nod. “You look great.” I beam. “Nope. I’m still alive,” I say in a small voice.

Nova pulls me into a hug. “You’re kidding me,” she says, pulling back and looking down at my belly, which is hidden under an oversized shirt. She must have felt it. “You’re pregnant. Are you serious? When did that happen?” Then she gives a head shake. “Come in…please, come in. I want to hear all about it. I’m rude to ask these questions while you’re still in the hall.” She practically pulls me inside.

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen you for so long.” My eyes start to sting a little. Nova and I were such good friends. “It’s been far too long.”

We walk inside, and Nova’s apartment is just as I remembered it. It’s small but cozy, with mismatched furniture clustered together in the living room and a small kitchen tucked into the corner. The walls are painted a sunny yellow that somehow works with a big painting of a bulldog as the focal point.

I smile when I see it.

“Ridiculously long.” She sighs. “Since you are here, I take it you aren’t with him anymore?” She narrows her eyes. “Sit, please.” She gestures to an overstuffed sofa.

“Igor?” I start to feel itchy and icky just thinking about him. I can’t believe I got it so wrong. “We broke up months ago, but I’ve been…messed up about the whole thing.” If I think back, it’s true: I have been messed up. Far more messed up than I care to admit. I sit, but Nova stays standing.

“Can I get you something to drink?” She laughs. “I’d offer you wine like old times, but I’m pretty sure you’d prefer a juice.”

I smile. “A juice sounds good.”

She heads for the kitchenette in the open-plan space. “So, who is the father? Is it Igor?” She makes a face when she says his name.

“You never liked him, and I can’t say I blame you.”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t want to say anything. I was trying to be a good friend, but he’s bad news. He always made me feel uncomfortable.” She pours us both some orange juice, bringing the glasses through to the living room.

“Even in school, when we were growing up?” I ask as she hands me a glass. “Thanks.”

“Even then.” She laughs, sitting across from me.

“Well, it turns out that you were right all along.” I grimace, then I tell her how he made me pregnant without my knowledge or consent. I rub my belly. “I love my baby…don’t get me wrong.”

“The bastard! I can’t believe he did that… Actually,” she scrunches up her nose, “I can. And of course you love your baby…duh. I’m not surprised you couldn’t take that pill. You have a soft heart and couldn’t hurt a fly.” She sips her drink.

If only she knew. Then again, Igor was lower than a fly. He was a maggot. Lower than a maggot…

What’s lower than a maggot?

“Remember how you saved that bird that fell out of the nest?” she says, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I throw out a laugh. “I’d forgotten about that. Yes, little Wilson.” I take a sip of my juice. It’s sweeter than I expected it to be.

“You named him Wilson?” She laughs.