EDITOR’S CHOICE AWARD
By ABBY CHINNOCK
Someone was throwing up. Well, it was Holly or Kate, unless someone had broken into their Airbnb at the crack of dawn to puke. Anna lay on the couch, not very awake, and wondered if she should go check on them. The smell of vomit was likely to make Anna sick, too, and she didn’t really want to throw up. But she wanted to help.
Why would Holly or Kate be vomiting? Anna shifted, the blanket sliding off of her and onto the floor as she sat, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. Neither had been drunk when they went to bed—in fact, Holly hadn’t even drunk a single drop of alcohol at dinner. But dinner—seafood at a new restaurant—maybe that was it. Food poisoning, or something.
There was a jar of sea glass on the coffee table. They’d gone out in a drizzly rain to collect it, coming in after two hours, soggy with half a jar of bounty to show for it. The early morning sunlight streaming through the windows caught on the jar, and Anna stared at it, slightly dazzled.
The toilet flushed.
Anna stood, put the blanket back onto the couch, and approached the bathroom. She had no idea what time it was. Morning, early. She lifted a fist to knock, but then the bathroom door swung open.
Holly startled.
“Jesus,” she said. “What are you doing? You scared me.”
“Are you okay?” Anna asked, moving aside. Holly went past her and into the kitchen. Anna followed dutifully behind her.
“I’m fine,” Holly said. “You can go back to sleep.” Anna dismissed the idea as Holly poured herself a glass of orange juice. She wrapped both hands around the plastic cup, sipped it slowly. Anna watched her.
The little window over the sink was on the eastern wall. Light poured through the gauzy curtains and painted Holly’s face, lighting up her profile in golden glitter. She was wearing an oversized, faded t-shirt and her hair was in a tangled, messy bun. She looked beautiful.
Anna reached for her own cup, poured herself some orange juice. She didn’t want Holly to catch her staring.
“Was it food poisoning?”
“Huh?”
“You were throwing up,” Anna said. She looked into the wells of her drink. Pale bits of pulp floated on the surface. Her nose wrinkled.
“Oh, yeah,” Holly said. “Maybe.”
Anna remembered Holly eating a chicken sandwich at dinner last night. Maybe it was undercooked. Maybe the lettuce was rotten. Maybe it wasn’t food poisoning at all. Anna dared to lift up her hand, touch the back of it to Holly’s forehead.
“No fever,” Anna said. Holly’s skin was cool and smooth.
“That’s good,” Holly said, peering at her. Anna took her hand away.
“Let’s go to the beach,” she said, looking away. The clock over the stove blinked at her. 6:24.
“It’s the crack of dawn,” Holly said. She put her orange juice on the counter. The cup landed with a hollow thud.
“It’ll be nice,” Anna said. “Maybe the fresh air will help you feel better. Or we can find some of the sea glass you were looking for. Besides, it’s not raining anymore.” She pointed at the window, lit up buttery yellow.
“Alright, fine. Let me get dressed.”
“I’ll wake Kate.”
“No,” Holly said. “No, it’s too early. We’ll come back before she even wakes up.”
Oh. That was no good. Anna needed Kate, needed her buffer. Kate had a big smile and loud laugh, and she diverted some of Holly’s attention away from Anna. It was easier, when there were three of them.
But Anna was selfish. Just this once. She met Holly at the door, both dressed in sandals and shorts, Anna in a t-shirt and Holly in a tank-top, with Kate still asleep in the second bedroom. The beach was only a few minutes away, and they walked it in silence. They were crossing the boardwalk to the beach when Anna realized they’d forgotten the jar of sea glass.
They left their sandals in the dunes beside the boardwalk. The top of the sand still had a light crust on it from the rain, and the only thing disturbing the flat expanse of white-gray was scattered seagull footprints. Holly led the way, her feet crashing through the crust and revealing the soft white sand underneath. Far off to the left, a jogger was on the shore, running away from them. Otherwise the beach was empty. Closer to the shore, Holly bent down and picked up a pink seashell, about the size of a silver dollar.
The waves crashed. A seagull cawed. The ocean was endless, wide, and blue. It was easy to feel like they were the only two people in the world. Anna walked all the way to the edge of the water, let it kiss her toes. Something sparkled in the sand and she bent over, picking it up. Sea glass. Flat and purple, edges worn smooth by the tides. She looked over at Holly. She was staring at the horizon, face unreadable, the breeze picking up her hair and tossing it around her face. Her lips were chapped.
Anna looked back at the glass in her hand.
“Why are you collecting it, anyway? The sea glass? Are you making something?”
This trip is the fourth year in a row they’ve done this—met up at the beach. Holly had initiated it—had wanted a way to make sure that they would keep in touch, after they graduated college and all went their separate ways. Anna’s never seen Holly collect sea glass before. Or any other kind of glass.
Holly took a deep breath.
“Yeah,” she said. Anna risked looking at her again. “Yeah, I’m thinking about making a suncatcher for the nursery.”
Oh.
Oh. The nursery. Anna looked at Holly’s stomach. It looked normal. It didn’t look—
“Congratulations,” Anna said. That’s what you’re supposed to say, right? She tried to smile. “That’s so exciting!”
Anna had been a bridesmaid at Jake and Holly’s wedding. She even liked Jake, well enough. She’d tried to get over the feelings, knowing that Holly was taken, knowing that Holly couldn’t like her like that. And this shouldn’t be a blow. Anna had already felt it when Holly had gotten married. But a marriage—a marriage is less permanent than a baby.
“Yeah,” Holly said. She laughed, grinning wider than she had the entire trip. “I’m really happy.”
Seeing her so excited made it hard to pretend. Anna loved her, but she tried not to be selfish about it. Anna’s next smile came easier, and she threw her arms around her friend.
“I’m so, so happy for you,” she said. And it wasn’t even really a lie.
“Will you be godmother?” Holly whispered into her ear. Anna shivered.
“Are you sure?” Anna asked. “What about Kate?” Holly had no sisters.
“I’ll just have to have two kids,” Holly said. She pulled away, meeting Anna’s eyes. “So?”
“Yeah, of course I will,” Anna said. Her eyes stung. Holly squealed, hugging her again before releasing her. The purple piece of sea glass was buried tight in Anna’s fist. She kind of wished it was sharp enough to hurt.