Walking Disaster

to
the apartment.
    I took two steps at a time and blew through the door. America’s and Shepley’s heads were visible over the top of the couch. The television was on, but muted. Thank God. She was still
asleep. The sacks crashed against the countertop when I sat them down, and I tried not to let the cabinets crash around too much as I put things away.
    “When Pidge wakes up, let me know, okay?” I asked softly. “I got spaghetti, and pancakes, and strawberries, and that oatmeal shit with the chocolate packets, and she likes
Fruity Pebbles cereal, right, Mare?” I asked, turning.
    Abby was awake, staring at me from the chair. Her mascara was smeared under her eyes. She looked as bad as I felt. “Hey, Pigeon.”
    She watched me for a few seconds with a blank stare. I took a few steps into the living room, more nervous than I was the night of my first fight.
    “You hungry, Pidge? I’ll make you some pancakes. Or there’s uh . . . there’s some oatmeal. And I got you some of that pink foamy shit that girls shave with, and a
hairdryer, and a . . . a . . . just a sec, it’s in here.” I grabbed one of the bags and took it into the bedroom, dumping it out onto the bed.
    As I looked for that pink loofah thing I thought she’d like, Abby’s luggage, full, zipped, and waiting by the door, caught my eye. My stomach lurched, and the cotton mouth returned.
I walked down the hall, trying to keep myself together.
    “Your stuff’s packed.”
    “I know,” she said.
    Physical pain burned through my chest. “You’re leaving.”
    Abby looked to America, who stared at me like she wanted me dead. “You actually expected her to stay?”
    “Baby,” Shepley whispered.
    “Don’t fucking start with me, Shep. Don’t you dare defend him to me,” America seethed.
    I swallowed hard. “I am so sorry, Pidge. I don’t even know what to say.”
    “Come on, Abby,” America said. She stood and pulled on her arm, but Abby stayed seated.
    I took a step, but America pointed her finger. “So help me God, Travis! If you try to stop her, I will douse you with gasoline and light you on fire while you sleep!”
    “America,” Shepley begged. This was going to get bad from all sides real quick.
    “I’m
fine,
” Abby said, overwhelmed.
    “What do you mean, you’re
fine
?” Shepley asked.
    Abby rolled her eyes and gestured to me. “Travis brought women home from the bar last night, so what?”
    My eyes closed, trying to deflect the pain. As much as I didn’t want her to leave, it had never occurred to me that she wouldn’t give a fuck.
    America frowned. “Huh-uh, Abby. Are you saying you’re
okay
with what happened?”
    Abby glanced around the room. “Travis can bring home whoever he wants. It’s
his
apartment.”
    I swallowed back the lump that was swelling in my throat. “You didn’t pack your things?”
    She shook her head and looked at the clock. “No, and now I’m going to have to unpack it all. I still have to eat, and shower, and get dressed,” she said, walking into the
bathroom.
    America shot a death glare in my direction, but I ignored her and walked over to the bathroom door, tapping lightly. “Pidge?”
    “Yeah?” she said, her voice weak.
    “You’re staying?” I closed my eyes, waiting for punishment.
    “I can go if you want me to, but a bet’s a bet.”
    My head fell against the door. “I don’t want you to leave, but I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
    “Are you saying I’m released from the bet?”
    The answer was easy, but I didn’t want to make her stay if she didn’t want to. At the same time, I was terrified to let her go. “If I say yes, will you leave?”
    “Well, yeah. I don’t live here, silly,” she said. A small laugh floated through the wood of the door.
    I couldn’t tell if she was upset or just tired from spending the night in the recliner, but if it was the former, there was no way I could let her walk away. I’d never see her
again.
    “Then no, the bet’s still in effect.”
    “Can I take a shower, now?” she asked, her voice small.
    “Yeah . . .”
    America stomped into the hall and stopped just short of my face. “You’re a selfish bastard,” she growled, slamming Shepley’s door behind her.
    I went into the bedroom, grabbed her robe and a pair of slippers, and then returned to the bathroom door. She was apparently staying, but kissing ass was never a bad idea.
    “Pigeon? I brought some of your stuff.”
    “Just set it on the sink. I’ll