We looked at each other for a second, then laughed. "No more booze for you," Ainsley said. "Look at you, getting all sappy." She gave my hand a squeeze. "I love you, too."
"Believe me, I can tell." I was a little buzzed, but I meant it. Why were we just doing this now? Why hadn't we always been close?
Because you couldn't be bothered, that's why. Because you and Sean liked to act superior with Ainsley. Because you were always jealous of her.
I'd do better now.
"Hey, did you hear?" I asked. "Mom and Dad are getting a divorce."
"Not this again."
"She wants to come live with us."
"God, no. I mean, not that I get a say, but..."
"Don't worry. I already turned her down." My drink was gone. "Have you heard from Eric?"
She closed her eyes. "He keeps emailing me to fact-check his cancer journey. And his parents are starting to turn. Judy said she was proud of him the last time we talked."
"She once told me he was regarded as the Christ child when he was born."
"That sounds about right." Her smile was a little sad.
"You know what we should do? Let's go to his house. Your house. He's in Alaska now, right?"
"Um...I think so. He started another blog, but I've been superstrong and haven't read it."
"Come on," I said, pulling out my wallet to pay for dinner. "Let's spy. It'll be fun."
Forty-five minutes later, there we were, sitting two houses down from her place. The house was dark.
"Let's go inside," I said. "We can take a few things that are rightfully yours."
She shook her head, smiling. "Look at you. Little Miss Perfect, committing a crime."
"You still have a key, don't you?"
"Hell's yes, I do."
It was awfully dark (which was good, since we were breaking and entering). I followed her up the walk. She peeked in the garage. "No car," she reported.
A second later, we were inside. "Don't turn on any lights," Ainsley said. "I don't want anyone to know we're here."
"Won't the car parked on the street tip them off?"
"Oh, shit, yes," she said, giggling. "Then again, who doesn't drive a white Prius? It's like Wonder Woman's jet. Practically invisible." She turned on the flashlight on her phone and shone it around. "I guess he hasn't left yet." There were piles in the living room-backpacks and hiking boots and climbing gear. "Look at all this crap. And from a guy who was never allowed to climb a tree in case he broke a bone."
"Think he's home? Maybe he sold the car. Maybe he's asleep upstairs, right now," I whispered. This made us laugh uncontrollably for some reason.
"Let's put his hand in a bowl of water and see if he wets the bed," Ainsley suggested, and I laughed so hard I had to go to the bathroom. Went into the little powder room and peed. Opted not to flush. Let him wonder.
When I came out, Ainsley was standing there. "He's not home," she said. "I checked. Come on, let's get some of my stuff." She looked around, the light from the bathroom illuminating the rooms. "I loved this house," she said, her voice a little forlorn.
"It always felt so happy here," I said, meaning it.
"When he kicked me out, I never thought he meant it." Her mouth wobbled.
This was the first time she'd really talked about her breakup, and I didn't know what to tell her. I was hardly a relationship expert, was I?
"Take that pillow," I said, pointing to the couch. The pillow said love you in pink letters, such an Ainsley kind of thing. "And this little flower vase. It's very pretty."
"I don't want them. But here. For you," she said, grabbing them. "He can't prove I didn't buy them. At least, I don't think he can. I handled all the finances when we were together. He probably has his mommy doing it now."
We went upstairs, Ainsley grabbing a little statue of a dachshund off a table. "He hasn't even been to see Ollie," she said. "The bastard."
"The sign of a sociopath," I said. "Can I have this?" I asked, pointing to an antique clock.
"No, that was his grandmother's. Sorry. Here. Take this instead." She gave me a wooden giraffe.
We went into the master bedroom. The covers were askew, a pillow on the floor. Ainsley paused, then went into the master bathroom, turned on the light and began scooping up moisturizer, mascara, lipsticks out of a drawer, and shoving them in her purse.
"This is in addition to the stuff you have at my house?" I asked.
"I know, I know, I'm an addict. But it costs a fortune. I'm not leaving it here."
Eric's toothbrush and razor were on the counter, which had blotches of toothpaste and stubble staining the sink. "Men are disgusting," I said.
"No kidding. We're better off without them. Oh, shit, sorry. I'm better off without mine. You, of course, are much worse."
I snorted. "Thank you. I appreciate that."
I put down my loot, took Eric's toothbrush, pulled up my shirt and leisurely rubbed the brush in my armpit. Ainsley shrieked, then laughed so hard she bent over.
My reflection showed a happy, flushed person. Nice to see a smile on my face. For once, the thought didn't make me immediately revert to sadness. "Shall I spit on his pillow?" I offered, and Ainsley went off again into gales of silent laughter.
Then we heard the door open downstairs. We froze.
The door closed. There were footsteps.
"Oh, God! He's back," Ainsley hissed. "Hide!"
I grabbed my stuff and obeyed, trying not to snort with laughter. We tiptoed down the hall, and Ainsley opened the door to the guest bedroom, dragged me to the far side of the bed and pulled me down onto the floor with her. She was laughing, too, her eyes streaming with tears.
Then we heard his voice...and a woman's voice answering.
Our laughter died a quick death.
"I love your place," the woman said. They seemed to be right under us, in what I thought was the living room, and the insulation must've sucked in this house, because we could hear them clear as day.
"Thanks. It's a little soulless, but I'll deal with that when I get back. Probably, I'll sell the place and donate the money to my charity."
His charity. Because there weren't enough charities for cancer research. The putz had to have one with his name on it, of course.
Ainsley had grown very still next to me. I slid my arm around her. "He's a prick," I whispered. "You deserve better."
"So how is a guy like you still single?" the woman asked, her voice playful.
"Oh, I was with someone for a long time," he answered. "I don't think she could handle my illness. She said the right things, but she never honored my journey, you know what I mean?"
Ainsley sucked in a breath, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
"You're kidding!" the woman said. "That's horrible!"
"Well, it happens. Not everyone is open to tackling the hardships of life. Enough about her. Come here, you."
There was quiet then.
"They're kissing," Ainsley whispered. "That's his come-on line. ‘Come here, you.' Worked every time."
"It's a really stupid line," I whispered back.
"They're gonna do it. Here. In my house. In our bed."
"No, they're not," I whispered.
"Yes, they are. In two minutes, he's going to bring her upstairs, take a shower, because that's his idea of foreplay, and then he's going to have sex with her in our bed." She was shaking.
"Give me your bag," I whispered. I clicked on my phone light and grabbed some mascara. Rubbed it under my eyes.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Just be ready to get out of here when I distract them. We don't want you to be seen." For legal purposes, I didn't add. Hey. I was a grieving widow. Time to get a little mileage out of that.
I took out her lipstick-super red-and put it on, making sure to smear it with a heavy hand. "How do I look?"
"Insane."
"Good."
We sat there in the dark, holding hands. "Make sure you bring my loot," I said, and we started to laugh again, silent, wheezing, unable to look at each other. She grabbed a pillow off the guest bed, took off the pillowcase and loaded it up with my goodies. Added the cute bedside clock, too, which made us laugh even more.
Sure enough, Eric and his friend came upstairs. We could hear little bursts of laughter and murmuring.
"I'll just take a quick shower," he said. "Make yourself comfortable."
"Why don't I join you?" she said in a sultry tone.
"Excellent idea."
I thought so, too. We heard the shower start. More laughter from the frisky couple. "Time for you to go, Ains," I whispered, standing up.
"Oh, I wouldn't miss this for the world."
We tiptoed down the hall toward Eric's room. Ainsley stationed herself outside the doorway like a cop expecting gunfire.