So it had happened; there was no denying that. But it was over now and I had a life to live, and I was determined to focus on that.
Around one that afternoon, the dead bolt turned and the door opened as much as it could with the chain slid across it.
“Milan, open up,” Tiffany called through the partially open door.
Ordinarily, she’d come breezing in, but that wasn’t possible now, and she pushed against the door trying to gain entry.
I hopped up from where I had been sitting in silence and staring off into the distance and went to the door and unlocked the chain.
“Why was the chain on the door?” Tiffany asked as she came in.
“I…” I started and then trailed off and looked at my best friend.
She looked beautiful, refreshed, and completely content in a way that I envied. She dropped her bag and grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and threw herself onto the couch.
She nodded and then took a swallow of her soda, seeming to have forgotten her question. “Last night was amazing, Milan! How was your night?” she asked.
“I, uh, I…”
Tiffany set her soda on the coffee table and stared at me, not breaking her gaze even as I came toward her and put a coaster under the damp can. I felt her gaze and her burgeoning worry, but I couldn’t look at her.
“What’s wrong, Milan?” she asked, tension rising in her voice.
I shrugged, still not meeting her eyes.
“Milan…” she said.
“I’m fine,” I replied.
Tiffany could be flighty, impulsive, but she was not dumb, something I was reminded of as she eyed me suspiciously.
“The wedding was that rough?” she asked, her voice still edged with skepticism as she watched me.
It was a reasonable question; some of the events could be a real grind, but when I risked a glance at her face, I could tell she was just fishing. I seldom let obnoxious guests bother me, and on most days, I’d be on to something else, not letting previous events keep me down.
So I knew my behavior was out of character and worrying, but I couldn’t find the words to reassure her.
I shook my head again, not able to muster enough strength to do much else. Suddenly feeling weaker, I went to the couch and sat next to her. My emotions, the fear and confusion of the day before, still made it impossible for me to speak. I hoped that maybe sitting next to her would make her feel better.
I could feel her eyes on me, but I just leaned back and kept my eyes sealed shut, exhaustion I hadn’t really been aware of just moments ago sapping all of my strength.
“You look like hell, Milan,” she said.
The incredulous tone of her voice managed to wring a smile from me, and I pulled my eyes open and turned to her, watched as her frown deepened, going from quizzical to concerned in two blinks of my eyes. I simultaneously found her concern heartwarming and her expression hilarious, so hilarious that I couldn’t contain myself.
The smile that split my face got bigger, and bigger, and soon, laughter began to bubble out of my throat.
But it wasn’t a laugh of humor, nor one that I recognized as myself. This laugh was unhinged, and in it, I heard the stress and insanity of the night before. That sound was more revealing than words would have been.
“Milan?” Tiffany said. She scooted closer, grabbed my hands, squeezing with surprising strength that one wouldn’t expect from her delicate fingers.
“Tiffany,” I said, before I fell into a puddle of laughter yet again.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” she said.
I looked over at her, but I could barely make her out through the tears that clouded my eyes.
“If…” I said, and then I inhaled, gasped around the laugh that wouldn’t stop. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me, Tiff,” I said.
Tiffany twisted her face into a confused expression, her eyes narrowed, her nose lifted like she smelled something foul.
I laughed still, and began to hiccup, and soon the hiccup turned to a sob.
All at once, the strength left my body and I collapsed down, laughing, crying, doing both as Tiffany watched me and held me.
It took me a while, I don’t know how long, to gather myself, and the whole time Tiffany sat with me, arm around me, holding me.
“So,” she said, looking down at me where I sprawled on her lap. “You calm now?”
I swept at my face and then sat up.
“As calm as I will be,” I said.
“So what happened?”
I wasn’t surprised by her question. One of the few things I’d managed to do was watch the news. There had been only the barest mention of the shooting, an offhand aside at the end of the newscast about an “incident” at a local church. Nothing more, though I had expected wall-to-wall coverage.