“Actually, I’ve been drinking instant coffee lately.”
         “Are you okay?”
         “Um, I think so.”
         The kid next to us in the aisle snickered quietly. When Lou and I looked at each other, he noticed and said,“Sorry, that was just really funny.”
         He walked quickly over to another aisle and we laughed at ourselves and at him.
         “I’m just going to get the biggest can,” Lou said, reaching for the store brand house blend.

❋

When we got back to her place, none of the sidewalks were shoveled and all the decorations were still up in her living room and kitchen. Lou nudged one of the balloons out of the way with her toe.
         “I should’ve tied them with ribbon. Now they’re just going to sit here until they shrivel up.”
         “I had a dream last night that they were all over the floor at work and the kids kept popping them,” I offered.
         “That would be a lot worse,” she agreed.
         “And then I was naked again at a team meeting.”
         “Dream you shouldn’t be allowed to work in schools,” Lou said.
         She opened the can of coffee and started scooping grounds into the filter. 
         “You have fun last night?” I asked.
         “Yeah, you?”
         “Yeah.”
         I hadn’t been hungover in a while. It felt like a bunch of cabbage was souring behind my nose and eyes. Had it always been this exhausting? We sat by the big window and watched the snow, and when the coffee pot beeped, Lou groaned a little standing up.
         “Your frontal lobe seal yet?” I called from the couch.
         “No, I think margaritas interfere with that whole process.”
         “You’ve got time still.”
         “You think it’s like Jello setting? Or do all the neurons start clicking together like Legos?”
         “No, I think there’s little bugs in there that don’t hatch until you’re 25. And then they go crazy.”
         Lou nodded, coming back with two mugs.

❋

All morning we kept the TV on with the volume low. Every 20 minutes or so my phone would buzz with a news alert. Neither of us threw up, which was a blessing. At some point, the squirrels came back onto the balcony and started playing tag again. 
         “How’s your mom?” I asked, lying on the carpet and staring at the patchy paint on the ceiling. I felt Lou rolling her eyes.
         “Fine.”
         “Still taking the classes?” 
         “Yep. Every time we talk, it’s B-12 or arsenic or whatever the fuck.”
         “She seems happier, though,” I shrugged.
         “No, yeah, she is. And that’s nice to see. I don’t know why it pisses me off so much.”
         “Moms are weird.”
         “Oldest daughters are weirder,” Lou said.

❋

Around 1:00 we walked down to the store again. Lou really wanted pickles and cheese, and I needed a lighter. 
“I feel like they let you put them in your carry-on” Lou was saying.
“Yeah, but if not, I don’t want some asshole on a power trip to take my cigarettes with the lighter for good measure. They’re like $12 now.”
“You’re white, though,” Lou reminded me.
“Yeah, but they don’t like dykes much better.”
“I guess your kind aren’t known for obeying signage. Smoking or otherwise.”
“Exactly.”
We walked out with pickles, chips, sour cream, and a silicone tray for making spherical ice cubes. 

❋

That afternoon, the wind picked up. You could see the snow swirling on the asphalt like dry leaves in the fall. We didn’t see anyone come or go through the bay window. Even the birds were staying in.
“What time do you board tomorrow?” Lou asked.
I checked my phone and saw that my mother had texted. It was a selfie with Auntie Janie and all the cousins. Everyone sends their love and missed seeing you! The service was nice. I’m doing okay.
“6:30. How long does it take in the snow?”
By 6 or 7, we were feeling better. Lou washed the dishes while I dried and put everything in the wrong spot. We listened to Stevie Nicks and Ellie Bleach, and my bare feet stuck a little to the linoleum. The flowers Brian had brought last night smelled strongly of lilies, but the colors were less sickly and bright in the afternoon grey.
“You seen Cassie in a while?” I asked when the Pandora commercial came on again.
Lou blew out through her nose derisively. “Not since the engagement.”
“You think she’ll invite you?”
“Probably not.”
“It’s kind of sad,” I offered.
“Yeah, but it’s like, you’re an adult. It’s not my fault you’ve never googled learned helplessness. Or religious trauma. Or compulsive heteronormativity.”
“Or used mommy and daddy’s money for therapy.”
“Exactly.”
I don’t remember falling asleep. Lou said I started snoring sitting up. When we got up, it was still and cold everywhere, and the lightbulbs were slow to come on.
“Did your mom figure out you were in town?” she asked when we got on the highway.
“I don’t think so.”
“How is she?”
“She posted old pictures of him with verses from Psalms. So who knows.”
“Moms are weird.”
“Oldest daughters are weirder.”
Lou nodded and turned up the heat. Her car smelled the same as it did in college, all mothy and thick.  There was salt everywhere, but the roads were still smeared with snow and slush.
“You okay?” she asked after a while.
“Um, I think so.”
“Fuck him.”
“Fuck him,” I agreed.

❋

The drop-off lane was congested, and Lou had to double park. The sludge got in both of our shoes, and we laughed. When Lou hugged me, she smelled warm. 
“Thank you for coming.”
“I wouldn’t miss it. Did you have a good birthday?”
“The best. Love you.”
The car behind us lay on the horn, and we both gave him the finger. 
“Love you too. I’ll text at the gate.”