She sighs. “Yeah, you did. You were kicking and screaming and clawing at yourself.” Her voice is shaky. “You were in the tub because it was the only place I could get you that you wouldn’t…hurt yourself on something. I was worried I’d have to, like, call for professional help. You were pretty out of your head. You left me with some bruises, but I’m fine.”

I look at her, really look. She’s my height, tall, but way curvier. Her mom was black, her dad white, so she’s got skin somewhere in between, with curly black hair and hazel eyes. She’s paler than usual, with bags under her eyes. She’s lost weight, and not in a good way. She didn’t need to.

She has the remains of a healing black eye, the awful purples and greens and yellows.

“Holy shit, Tess. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, you warned me.”

“Doesn’t make it okay.”

She lies on the bed behind me and spoons me. “It’s fine, boo. I love you. I’m here. I forgave you beforehand, remember?”

“I miss him so fucking much.”

“I can’t even begin to understand.”

“I wonder what…what Adrian left in his will?” I say. “He handled all our finances, but as far as I’m aware, it’s not like we had a lot of stuff or investments for him to leave.”

“I guess we’ll find out Friday.”

“I guess so.”

“I’m going to need a shower.”

“Bitch, you’re gonna need like four showers.”

“I don’t smell that bad.”

“Oh yeah? Sniff your pit.”

I do so. “Holy hell.” I cough at my own stench. “You might be right.”

“Why are you still here with me, Tess?”

“Because you’re my best friend. And you’d do the same for me. We made a pact, remember? When we were in that Gaia, Mother Earth phase? We did this whole thing involving period blood and herbs and that godawful wine we made ourselves?”

I can’t help but laugh. “God, I remember. That was so nuts.”

“I meant that shit, Nads. Ride or die.”

“I meant it too. I just…I guess I feel like I’ve really tested it, these last few weeks.”

“You haven’t tested anything, Nadia. There’s no such thing as testing it. You need me, so I’m here. No matter what.”

“What would I do without you?”

“You’ll never find out.”

A while of silence.

“You’ve been in here a week,” Tess says, eventually. “I could barely get you to eat or drink. I had to force-feed you electrolytes. I was really worried about you getting dehydrated.”

“Oh.”

“You’ve lost a shitload of weight, Nads. Like, a lot. You’re skin and bones.”