Chapter 41

GRACE'S POV 

Susan swallowed the liquid in her mouth before speaking. “That's a very long story that I'm sure you're too tired to listen to.” 

I smacked her leg. “Shorten it.” 

The order made her widen her eyes and start speaking. “I picked it up when you weren't looking.” 

“Where? When?” I questioned.

“From my room, before we left. I had prepared it before you came over.” 

I stared hard at her. “You are unbelievable. Here I am, making sure that you won't be too hungover to go to work tomorrow, but you're just thwarting my efforts by drinking more. How can you be so irresponsible and ignorant? It's an effing Tuesday for God's sake! If you wanted to drown in alcohol, you should've picked a weekend and do whatever you want. You're already beefing with your superior and now you want to show up to work still drunk? What is wrong with you?” 

I don't remember the last time I'd yelled at Susan. She was being absolutely irresponsible and it was annoying me. If anyone had to suffer, it had to be her. I survived a dead marriage with Michael, died by his hand and woke up ten years earlier. I should've been the one trying to make life hard for her.

She just looked at me, eyes glassy, without words.

I sighed and walked into the kitchen. “Get up and put yourself on the couch.” 

Her apartment was slightly messy, but not disastrous. Just lived in. I opened the fridge, and stared at the contents. I closed it, and opened it again. Maybe something would magically appear. It didn’t, nothing magically appeared in her fridge.

“She has nothing,” I muttered, astounded. 

From the couch, Susan mumbled, “There’s noodles.”

I turned. “Where?”

“Cupboard.”

I found them, instant noodles. Of course, the universal solution to poor planning and late nights.

“Sit up,” I called out.

“No.” she protested. 

I snorted. “You have to eat.” As if she had any other option.

She groaned. “I’ll eat tomorrow.”

“You said you were starving.”

“I changed my mind.” She was actually whining.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Susan.”

Silence.

Then, like a small child, she said, “Make it for me.”

I stared at the ceiling. Why me?

A few minutes later, I stood over her with a bowl.

“Eat.” I instructed.

She cracked one eye open. “You’re the best.”

“I know.”

“I'm sorry for making your life hard.” 

“I know, eat.”

She sat up slowly, taking the bowl like it was sacred. Then she started eating, like nothing had happened.

I sat beside her, watching, because if I didn’t supervise her, she might actually fall asleep mid-bite.

“Slow down,” I said.

“I’m fine.” she said, food in her mouth. 

“You’re inhaling it.”

“I’m clean.” she countered.

“You’re a mess.”

She smiled. “Your mess.”

I paused, then shook my head. “Don’t start.”

After a few minutes, she finished completely. Not a single noodle left. I thought it was impressive.

“I feel alive again,” she declared.

“You were never dead.” I chuckled.

“I was close.”

“You were dramatic, that's what..”

She leaned her head on my shoulder. “Same thing.”

I let her rest there for a moment. Just a moment, because despite everything, the chaos, the noise, the dragging, the slapping, this was familiar. Comfortable too.

“You should sleep,” I said eventually, yawning. Everything was finally getting to me.

“I am sleeping.” she mumbled.

I rolled my eyes at her.“You’re sitting.”

“I can sleep sitting.”

“No, you can’t.”

 She whined, “Yes, I can.”

She closed her eyes, and immediately started slipping sideways.

I caught her just in time. “See?” I said.

She mumbled something unintelligible.

I helped her up again and guided her toward her room, step by step, slowly, carefully. Because if she fell now, I might actually leave her there.

I made a mental note to tell her she owed me for handling her like a baby, which was taking a lot of my energy.

When we reached her bed, she collapsed again.

But this time, successfully on the bed. Progress, that's what it was. At least, it wasn't the floor or her rug.

I pulled off her shoes, tossing them aside, and covered her with a blanket.

“You know, I haven't asked you what you think about Michael.” She mumbled, snuggling into her pillow.

A small smile slipped onto my face. This had to be the right step, the best even. As much as it hurt me to intentionally hook my best friend with the love of my life, I didn't want to die or have to catch them cheating.

“What about him?” I asked, curious to hear what she thought.

“He totally wants you.” 

I froze in my position. Was this one of those moments you thought you heard well, but you absolutely didn't? 

“He got your number and said he'd text later.” She added, a small and sleepy smile on her face.

I couldn't say anything to her. She just handed him to me. In the blink of an eye, my plan looked like it was starting to collapse. 

Immediately, my brain started replanning. There had to be something I could do to make him see just her and her alone, but what?

“I thought he liked you?” I said to her after a few seconds. 

She snorted softly, sounding like a baby pig. “I wish. He was asking me about you throughout our dance. Next time, you're dancing with him.” Her words were starting to slur. 

Before I could say something else, she started snoring softly, leaving me stunned. 

Afterwards, I just stood there for a second, looking at her. She looked very peaceful, quiet, and finally still. No one would know she was as chaotic as she was.

“You’re lucky I like you,” I muttered.

She didn’t respond,

of course she didn’t. She was gone, far gone into dreamland.

I turned off the light and stepped out of her room, closing the door softly behind me.