“Yeah, OK,” she said. “Go on…”
“Well, I don’t know. It doesn’t all make sense, and probably the details like the wind and the noises is just dream stuff, not really real. But suddenly there were hornets, like, everywhere… Like, they were in the food, under the patio umbrella, so close you could feel their wings. Dozens of them… Hundreds. Like they were smart. Like they hated us.”
“Fuck.”
“Everybody went running, and that was it. The whole day just came down to that crazy, random thing. Everything was ruined. And it started with just a couple bugs, like you might see any day of the week. Like at any time, everything could go just that way. Crazy.”
“I see,” she said, nodding, staring into the painting. “So these are like the fucking harbingers. They’re the premonition.”
“Right.”
“It’s all there, Mar. I can totally feel it. I don’t know how you did it.”
“Man, that was such a shitty day, you know? I mean, I only really remember my mom in little bits and pieces, but this one day that was supposed to just be normal, nice… It just went sideways in such a hurry. I felt so cheated,” I said, my hand fluttering up to cover my face. My chin had started to quiver.
What are you doing? Get a grip!
“Wow,” Bridget said in a low, careful voice, looking me over like I was some kind of disturbing museum specimen. “Are you, uh, OK?”
“Yeah, fuck… I don’t know, sorry,” I apologized, trying to smile as my eyes burned.
Seriously, you’re not going to cry are you? Seriously?
“Well, you’re just a tiny little powder keg, now aren’t you?” she cooed sympathetically, her hand hovering just over my arm but not touching me. “You’re like inches away from going nuclear, huh?”
“Aw, fuck you, gawd.”
“No I think this is awesome,” she nodded. “Seriously. You have tapped the fucking mother vein. Don’t stop. I mean… well, you may need to be medicated or electro-shocked or whatever, eventually… but before that happens, get as much work done as you can, OK?”
“Spoken like the true remora you are, Bridge,” I sighed, breathing deeply and trying to pull myself together. “Gawd, I am a mess, huh? Wow.”
She wrinkled her nose affectionately at me as I sniffled back a mucous-sodden cleansing breath.
“You are! A truly adorable mess. And I may be a remora, but that’s only because you are a motherfuckin shark, Mar. You really are. Just going for blood. And it’s great!”
“OK,” I sighed, nodding. “OK. Well, that’s good.”
“It is!”
“Yeah, OK. It is. It’s hard, though,” I whined.
“Of course it’s hard.”
“No I mean… Like seriously hard. Like pulling teeth, digging out scabs, pulling out stitches hard.”
She nodded avidly. Her eyes glittered with something like lust. I leaned back.
“You know... You freak me out when you look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re gonna eat me or something.”
“Pssht,” she waved her hands. “You’re too skinny to eat. And getting skinnier all the time, by the look of you. You need a sammich or something? No… Nevermind that. Just keep pulling out your stitches and stuff, Margot. You have a whole lifetime of repressed emotion that’s dying to come out, and it’s going to make us both very wealthy women, sweetcakes.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. I felt her head turn toward me and cringed. Her breath puffed out of her nostrils, suddenly hot and sweaty. She knew something was up, but there was no turning back. I had to tell her.
“About that,” I continued. “I’m going to be out of town for a bit?”
“Um. No.”
“Yeah, Amsterdam?” I pressed on, trying to act like this was all going to be fine even as all my statements came out like questions. “The Burkes are going to Amsterdam and Declan has some people I should meet? So I am going? Shouldn’t be too long?”
“No.”
“Like, not forever of course? I have a few more at the studio for you. You can have them when they’re dry…”
“No, Margot. No!”
“Well, I have to, don’t I?”
“No! You don’t have to!” she shouted, her face all shiny, tendrils of purple hair already plastered to her forehead. “You’re just getting rolling here, girl!”
“Yeah, I know! I’ll be right back, just making some connections that Declan knows.”
“He has no right!”
Instantly I bristled. “I’m not a piece of property, OK, Bridget? Nobody has rights to me. I can do what I like.”