Reasons for Avoiding Friends by Megan Leavell

Author:Megan Leavell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cedar House Press

11

Gwen

GWEN WAS UP at four, even if she had been awake since about two, and it was only partly due to the fact that Michael was snoring so loudly beside her. She’d forgotten about that when she’d insisted that he couldn’t fall asleep watching television again, because what if Iris came into the kitchen in the middle of the night, needing something to eat?

“Have you seen how skinny she is?” was all Michael could say to that, which stung, badly, but at eleven that night he flicked off the television and came to bed.

Still, Gwen was anxious thinking of how her real life paled next to her social media posts and holiday letter. At least the dinner had gone off without too much of a hitch. And the food had been good, too. And Michael had only given her a funny look when Iris praised the homemade pie.

True to her word, the first thing Iris suggested in the morning after letting herself in through the back door was a trip into town. “I’m feeling like mimosas and nails,” she said, her eyes gleaming much the same way they did when she used to manage to shove one of Lois’s half-empty vodka bottles into her backpack, not that Gwen was ever willing to try any.

Meanwhile, Gwen was fielding texts from her mother and cleaning up the cereal that Bea had spilled as she bolted to the school bus, tears shining in her eyes over having to leave Gwen’s side.

“But it’s only for a few hours,” Gwen had reassured her, puzzled by this sudden protest.

“But…you’re old! You’re going to die soon!”

“I’m actually quite a bit younger than the other mommies at school,” she said rather proudly, and it was true. She’d gotten an early start, after all. “You know Taffy’s mommy? Mrs. Sharp? She’s at least forty-five.” She beamed, and Bea did too.

Now it was already nine, Gwen had been up for hours, and Iris looked like she had just rolled out of bed. And sadly, even then, she looked far more pulled together than Gwen, who was already wearing lip gloss.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something as simple but self-serving as getting a manicure. Michael’s holiday party last year, perhaps? Right before the big lay-off? She had planned to use the day to sit with her planner, work out a punch list for the week, a plan of attack for bringing in more business, but that was before she knew she had a houseguest.

“I have coffee,” Gwen said, suddenly remembering the pot she had made, especially for Iris, though given the hour, it had probably gone cold by now.

“Let’s grab one in town. I’ll take a quick shower and meet you down here in thirty?” Iris asked, and Gwen nodded, it would give her just enough time to finish perfecting the house, hiding any further evidence of troubled teens—or a disgruntled husband, who was currently hunched over the laptop at the dining room table. When she ran the vacuum while the kids were eating breakfast, Michael complained that he was trying to work.

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