Chapter Text
‘In the next world, I want to be something useful.
Like a staple gun. Or in love.’
Bradley Trumpfheller, ‘Speculative Realism’ (2020)
She had been living in her house for three months, but she still wasn’t used to the stars.
When Sue had first moved back home to Amherst, many things had been precisely as she had predicted. She expected that she would be jarred, at first, by the seeming smallness of the town compared to Boston and New York, and she was. She expected that the neighbours would still remember her as she remembered them, and they did. She expected that she would practically give up using her car altogether because she knew that everything was a few minutes walk away. But she had forgotten about the stars. They were visible almost from the moment the sun went down each evening, shining so brightly that they didn’t seem real. Every night without fail Sue found herself, at some point, craning her neck upwards just to stare at them.
When, much later, she explained to Emily that that was what she was doing on her porch at three in the morning the night that they met — that she hadn’t been able to sleep and the stars were visible from her bedroom window, that they were so big and clear it had seemed reasonable, almost necessary, to go outside and smoke a cigarette as she stared at them — the information was well-received. Emily was extremely enthusiastic about the idea that they had met because of the stars. The reality was far less romantic. Firstly, because Sue had never been looking to meet Emily at all. She had never considered herself lonely because she had spent the vast majority of her life alone. From a young age, she had told herself that this was an immutable fact about herself — she was Sue, and so she was alone. So she never actively sought company, and she certainly never did it by sitting on her porch and waiting for a woman to stumble into her front garden.
The second reason their meeting was not very romantic was that Emily had been black-out drunk.
For the first fifteen minutes after she’d decided to go outside, Sue had sat in relative peace. Austin had been scratching at the door for a while — he always seemed to be restless whenever she was, as though in solidarity — so she’d let him come out with her. Now he sat curled up at her feet sleepily, nudging at her feet every so often with a tiny growl. Sue scratched the little patch of fur between his ears and felt sorry that he couldn’t see the stars like she could. She imagined that Austin, who was incredibly thoughtful and earnest, for a dog, would love them. They sat in silence. Another thing about Amherst — it was quiet in the evenings, which cities never were. Eventually, Austin whined low in his throat and hopped off the porch to relieve himself. Sue snorted.
“You’re so polite,” she called out to him as she heard the tell-tale trickle of water a few seconds later.
“Thank you,” replied a voice that definitely wasn’t Austin, since he was a dog and couldn’t talk. Sue blinked in surprise and shifted in her seat on the porch.
“Er, I wasn’t talking to you?” she said, squinting out at the front garden. She could just make out a figure by the fence, leaning against the mailbox.
“Oh,” said the figure. “Who were you talking to?”
Sue paused. “My dog,” she said eventually. “He’s just peeing, so.”
“Is peeing polite?” asked the figure, who was still not very visible.
“It is when you’re a dog and you step off the porch to do it,” Sue replied. “What are you — doing?”
“Looking at your dog.” The figure took a few steps towards Austin, who had finished receiving himself and was now watching the person approaching warily. “Oh my god, he’s so frickin’ cute,” said the figure. “Can I pet him?”
“Uh —“
“Hey, boy.” The figure knelt down and Sue realised from the complete clumsiness of the action that they were almost certainly drunk. “You’re such a good boy. You’re such a good… what’s his name?”
“Austin,” Sue said, still too confused by this entire series of events to do anything else.
“Austin?” said the figure. “No way. That’s my brother’s name!”
A faint pang of recognition registered somewhere in Sue’s brain at this, and she stood up from her seat to peer more closely at the person still petting her dog.
“Emily Dickinson?” Sue asked with surprise.
“No,” said Emily with a hiccup. “That’s my name. My brother’s name is Austin. Like your dog.”
“No, I know your name,” Sue said. “I’m Sue. Sue Gilbert. From middle school?”
Emily finally shifted her gaze from Austin (who had been thoroughly enjoying the attention) to Sue and squinted at her for a long moment. “Oh,” she said finally. “Sue! From middle school. Weren’t you in Boston?”
“I moved back,” Sue said.
“Yeah, I heard about that, actually,” Emily replied. “I love your dog.”
“Thanks,” Sue said. “Are you — okay?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Emily told her, though she looked at the same time like she was about two seconds from falling over.
“Are you drunk?”
“Yeah,” Emily said, then, clearly sensing some judgement in Sue’s tone that wasn’t actually there: “What’s it to you? Free country, right?”
“Kind of,” Sue replied, “except you’re on my front lawn, so.”
“That’s on you,” said Emily, “for having a dog that’s so cute. Is he really called Austin?”
“Yeah.” Sue wasn’t sure why she would make something like her dog’s name up, but she didn’t say this.
“He’s way cuter than my Austin,” Emily said. “My Austin is going through his mid-twenties crisis. And a man.”
“Yeah,” said Sue in agreement, because her dog did sound cuter than that. She vaguely remembered Austin, who had always looked more like Emily’s twin than her older brother and had a bright smile and kind eyes, even when they were teenagers.
“I’m really tired,” announced Emily.
“Um,” Sue said, because she didn’t know what to do with this information. “I could…call you a cab?”
“No, it’s fine. I can walk,” Emily replied, not very convincingly. She was still crouched down on the ground. Austin (the dog, not her brother) was still sitting next to her, as if concerned. “Just gimme a sec. And then I’ll get up. And out of your…hair…lawn…”
“Uh-huh,” Sue said, finally stepping off the porch and towards her. “You need some help?”
“Noooo,” Emily replied, dragging out the vowel sound.
“Come on,” Sue said, holding out her hand. From her closer vantage point she could see Emily’s face more clearly. It hadn’t much changed since Sue had last seen it, although she was definitely now a very beautiful woman and not an awkward thirteen-year-old girl. She remembered thinking Emily was kind of weird at school, if nice enough. It seemed like this was still the case.
“No, seriously, I’m —“
Her protest was cut off as she leaned away from Austin and promptly threw up at Sue’s feet. Austin let out another whine.
“Oh, boy,” Sue said. “You okay?”
“Yep,” Emily replied. “I’m great.”
“You should probably come inside,” said Sue. “Can you stand?”
“Yeah,” Emily said, before falling from her sitting position onto the ground. Austin growled a little and nudged her with his nose. Sue sighed and grabbed Emily rather unceremoniously from beneath her arms.
“I like your eyes,” Emily said once they were face to face.
“Okay,” Sue said. “Can you stand now?”
“They’re like stars,” Emily replied dreamily.
“Standing. Now. Please.”
Sue managed to get Emily upright for long enough to duck underneath one of her arms and support her weight whilst moving back towards the house.
“You’re strong,” Emily observed.
“Not really,” Sue replied, because the reality was Emily was relatively slight, and her weight wasn’t too hard to bear. Austin trotted alongside and observed their journey with interest. Eventually they made it to the front door.
“Nice house,” Emily remarked. “How are you, like, twenty-three with a house?”
“My parents died,” Sue managed to get out in a grunt as she pushed the front door open and got them over the threshold.
“Oh, shit,” Emily said. “Sorry, that sucks.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Sue replied. “Can you please try standing up by yourself now?”
Emily did so dutifully. “I like your front hall. That’s a nice picture.”
Sue followed her line of sight to the photo hanging in the hallway. It was her with her parents at her high school graduation. “Thanks,” she said, though she wasn’t sure how Emily could see it in the dark.
“Do you miss them?”
“Yeah,” Sue said. She’d usually roll her eyes at such an obvious question but it was nearly four in the morning and she was too tired to be sardonic.
There was also something about the sincerity on Emily’s face. It made her feel incapable of anything but honesty. “The house is kinda big without them.”
“I see that.”
“I’m thinking about selling it and getting an apartment somewhere else,” she said without really knowing why. She had not shared this information with anyone because she hadn’t had anyone to share it with. Emily was staring at her as though she understood this even though she had no way of knowing it was the case.
“Somewhere like not Amherst?”
“I guess.” Sue shrugged.
“Amherst is nice, though,” Emily said.
“It is nice,” Sue agreed. She didn’t say that she was already growing tired of the pitying looks people on her road sent her every time she left the house. She didn’t say that she hadn’t had time to make any friends and wasn’t sure how to start. She didn’t say that there was something vaguely haunting about moving back home when you’d spent most of your life so far figuring out how to move as far away as possible from it. Instead, she said: “You should probably just crash here tonight.”
“No,” Emily yawned. “You can just — call me a cab…”
Sue considered the abruptness with which Emily had thrown up outside. “I don’t think that’s the best idea,” she said.
“What?”
“You being alone right now. Is there someone I can call to pick you up?”
Emily thought about this for a long while. “No,” she said eventually. “Vinnie’s at her boyfriend’s. And Austin was drinking with me. I don’t know where he is, actually…”
“Couch, then,” Sue said, choosing to disregard this last remark and worry about one Dickinson at a time. When Emily didn’t move and simply stared at her blankly, she said: “My living room is behind you.”
“Oh,” Emily said, turning with not much grace towards the aforementioned living room. “Sweet.”
“I don’t need to help you walk again, do I?” Sue asked cautiously.
“No, no,” Emily said, staggering towards the couch. “I’ll be —“she cut herself off with a long yawn — “fine.”
“Okay,” Sue said. “Well, here you go. I’ll just get you, you know, some water and, er, a pillow…”
She gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen and began to back out of the room as Emily deposited herself on the couch.
She didn’t really know the etiquette for taking care of someone who had drunkenly petted your dog and then thrown up on your front lawn. Nonetheless, she filled up a glass of water in the kitchen before going upstairs to grab a comforter from the linen closet. She wondered if it was rude to relegate Emily to the couch as she had. There was a spare room on the second floor, but in all honesty, Sue wasn’t sure she had any hope of getting Emily up the stairs without incident, vomit-related or otherwise.
When she returned to the living room, Emily was flung upon the couch with an arm across her eyes, already snoring loudly. Sue smiled before she could stop herself. She knew it was odd to feel such fondness for an effective stranger, but there was something so endearing about the scene that she couldn’t help it. She covered her with the comforter and placed the water on the coffee table. Once she’d straightened up, she saw that Austin had curled himself up at the foot of the couch and was asleep as well. She leaned over to place a kiss on his head then went upstairs to bed.
Sue was woken up the next morning by someone tapping insistently at her bedroom door. She was momentarily terrified at the prospect of a home invasion before her sleep-sodden brain caught up with itself and she remembered everything at once: Emily Dickinson on her front lawn, Emily Dickinson talking to her dog, Emily Dickinson talking to her, Emily Dickinson passing out on her couch, and now, probably, Emily Dickinson knocking on her bedroom door.
“Uh, good morning,” came Emily’s voice from behind the door, confirming Sue’s suspicions. “Sue?” A pause. “Okay, is this not the bedroom either? Because honestly, I’ve knocked on every other door on this floor, and I was hoping this would be the winner.”
“It is the bedroom,” Sue managed through a yawn, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “One second.”
She got up and padded over to the door. When she opened it she was met by an Emily who looked far too bright-eyed for someone who had thrown up in a near-stranger’s front garden only a few hours before.
“Hey,” Emily said. “There are so many rooms in this house, it’s insane.”
Sue looked around the landing. There were four doors coming off it: the bathroom, her bedroom, what used to be her parents bedroom, and the spare bedroom. “I feel like the house has a normal number of rooms,” she said.
“Well, try knocking on them all and calling out for Sue and waiting for Sue to reply and then you’ll see what I mean,” Emily said.
“Okay,” Sue said amenably. She couldn’t really keep up with what Emily was saying, but she was already realising that this was probably going to be how their conversations usually went. Instead she rubbed her eyes a few times again, before letting out after another yawn and asking: “Did you sleep okay?”
Emily was staring at her with an odd expression on her face, as though she’d never seen someone yawn before.
“Emily?” Sue prompted.
“Huh?”
Sue squinted at her confusedly. “Did you sleep okay?” she repeated.
“Oh,” Emily said. “Yeah. Totally. Like a rock, actually.”
“I’m not surprised,” Sue said.
“Oh,” Emily said again.
“Because you were really drunk last night,” Sue explained, probably unnecessarily.
Emily looked very flustered and Sue watched as her face slowly turned a very faint shade of pink. “Yeah,” she said, “about that. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Sue said.
“No, but seriously,” Emily said earnestly. “I’m languishing in humiliation right now.”
“It doesn’t seem like you are,” Sue replied, because Emily seemed fairly well adjusted and not exactly dying of embarrassment.
“I am,” Emily assured her, “trust me.”
Sue paused here. “You kind of…threw up last night. Outside.”
“I did?” Emily asked with horror. Then, with sinking realisation: “I did.”
“Yeah,” Sue said with a grimace. She wasn’t sure what the protocol was after this point. She’d kind of hoped that it would be clearer to figure out what to do after a few hours of sleep, but so far she was just as clueless as she had been at three o’clock that morning.
“I’ll clean that up,” Emily said miserably. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Sue said, and she was surprised to find herself meaning it. “I can give you, like, a bucket, or...”
“Thanks,” Emily said, still looking very sorry for herself.
In an attempt to appease her, Sue said: “I can make breakfast while you do. Are waffles okay?”
“Oh, no, I’ve — I’ve put you out so much already,” Emily said, but the protest came out weakly, particularly in contrast with the way her eyes had lit up at the mention of waffles.
“Let me get you the cleaning stuff,” Sue said, moving past her and down the stairs. She reached the sink and retrieved anything she found that looked like it might help Emily in her unenviable task.
“Here,” she said, shoving a potentially excessive pile of cleaning equipment in Emily’s arms.
“Uh,” Emily said. “I don’t think I know what, like, half of this stuff for.”
“Well, just use the stuff that you do know,” Sue suggested. Emily opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a quiet whine from the kitchen door. They both turned around to see that Austin was standing there, looking sorrowful.
“Oh my god,” Emily breathed reverently. “I thought I’d dreamed him.”
“No, he’s very real,” Sue assured her. “And he’s annoyed at me because I haven’t given him breakfast yet. Here, boy,” she said, crouching down and opening up her arms. Austin simply stood in the doorway and fixed her with a distinctly unimpressed stare.
“Less cuddles, more food, got it,” Sue said, moving over to the cupboard to retrieve his breakfast. She glanced over at Emily, who was still looking at Austin with something between awe and adoration.
“You’re a dog person, huh?” Sue asked wryly as she poured Austin’s food into his bowl.
“Yeah,” Emily said distantly. “I love them. I mean, we’ve never had one, my mom’s allergic, but…”
“Dogs are the best,” Sue agreed as Austin scrambled up to his bowl and began eating. “Austin’s my best bud, aren’t ya, boy?” she added, scratching him softly between his ears.
“So I didn’t dream that either,” Emily said.
“Dream what?”
“Dream that your dog is named after my brother.”
Sue frowned. “He is not,” she said. “That’s a coincidence.”
“A coincidence,” Emily repeated, looking at Sue’s face searchingly. “Huh.”
Sue raised her eyebrows. It was becoming apparent to her that Emily’s odd behaviour last night was actually a consistent personality trait and not the result of drunkenness. “Don’t you have some cleaning to do?” she prompted.
“Right,” Emily said, with a slight jolt, as though being yanked out of deep thought. “Sure. Cleaning. Fun. I’ll just…”
She nodded in the vague direction of the front door and disappeared out of the kitchen. Sue watched her go then started on the batter for the waffles. As she did so she tried to piece together the events that had occurred over the last few hours and led to her making breakfast to share with someone who she’d last spoken to in middle school. Since moving to Amherst Sue had become thoroughly unused to social contact, apart from the occasional text exchange with the few friends she still had in Boston or small talk with the guy at the grocery store. She wondered if this was why she’d ended up in this situation, and if someone more socially adept would have done things differently. What stuck with her even more, probably because she was currently making them, was the waffles. Sue couldn’t even remember the last time she’d made some for herself, let alone offered to make them for someone else. But she’d suggested them to Emily as though it were a completely normal thing to do.
Eventually Sue decided that these existential questions were probably best left for when she’d eaten and slept a little more, and that for now breakfast was the priority. She concentrated on cooking the waffles and digging out some fruit from her refrigerator to top them with. She’d just finished slathering them with maple syrup when she heard the front door open and close, then a set of footsteps coming through the hall. Soon enough Emily trudged in, looking a little pale.
“Everything cleaned up,” she announced solemnly.
“Great,” Sue said slowly, eyeing her carefully. “You okay there? You look a little…”
“Sick?” Emily filled in. “Yeah. Turns out cleaning up vomit can do that to a girl.”
“Even your own vomit?” Sue asked.
“Especially your own vomit,” Emily said. “Anyway, it’s done now. And this smells incredible.”
“Well, it’s all ready,” Sue said, wondering why on earth she felt a little warm at the reverent tone in Emily’s voice. “So, food’s up, I guess.”
She grabbed the two plates from the counter and crossed over to the small kitchen table. Emily followed, sitting down and beginning to eat with a speed Sue didn’t think she’d ever seen before.
“Oh my God,” she moaned through a mouthful of waffle. “This is incredible. Is this what they teach you over in Boston?”
“Amongst other things,” Sue said, feeling the strange warm feeling come over her again.
“Mm,” Emily let out with a nod, shoving another forkful into her mouth. “Well, wow. I mean, wow.”
“Thank you,” Sue replied.
“You’re so welcome,” Emily said after swallowing. “I mean, thank you. For, you know. Feeding me. And letting me sleep over. And…” She trailed off, as though remembering the entire situation, and started to go a light shade of pink. “Well, I mean, thanks. Seriously. I’d probably be passed out on a street corner by now, so…”
“It’s okay,” Sue said. She hadn’t really spent such a long period of time with someone for a while. Half of her was wildly uncomfortable and the other half was strangely enthusiastic. She felt herself on the precipice of danger, like a traveller in the desert who had finally come across an oasis and couldn’t be sure if it was a mirage or not.
“So do you usually eat here, and not the dining room?” Emily asked, oblivious to Sue’s slightly panicked thoughts.
“Yeah,” Sue replied with a blink of surprise at being asked about her solitary eating arrangements. “I mean, it would be kind of stupid to eat in there.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s…just me?”
“You could still eat in there,” Emily said with a shrug. “It’s really nice.”
“It would be weird,” Sue said.
“Okay,” Emily said, still looking sceptical.
“I haven’t eaten there since my parents died, anyway,” Sue said unthinkingly. She realised her mistake when Emily paused in her eating to look at her very seriously. “Sorry,” Sue added, belatedly. “I’m not used to, uh.”
“Talking about it?” Emily asked.
“No, I am used to that,” Sue said, thinking of the endless conversations she’d had to sit through immediately after it had happened. “But not talking about it in, like, a casual way, I guess.”
“Okay,” Emily said. She paused, then added: “I’m kind of remembering everything we said yesterday, now.”
Sue hesitated. “Okay?” she said uncertainly. “I mean, there isn’t that much to remember. You…passed out pretty quickly, once we got inside.”
“No, I know that,” Emily said, blushing slightly. “I just mean, you know. I remember you. Sue.”
“That’s me,” Sue said. In all honesty, she hadn’t even considered the possibility that Emily wouldn’t remember who she was, considering they were sitting here eating breakfast together.
“You always had the nicest hair in middle school,” Emily said thoughtfully. “I remember being so jealous of it.”
“Thanks,” Sue said, touching a hand to the back of her head as though subconsciously checking that the hair on it was in fact still nice.
“You still do,” Emily said quickly, as though sensing this instinct and wanting to assure her.
“Not right now,” Sue said. “I’ve got bedhead right now.”
Emily let out a slight laugh. “Me too,” she said. “Or, couch head, I guess. Thanks again. By the way.”
“You’re welcome again,” Sue said. “But really, you don’t have to keep thanking me.”
“I mean, I threw up on your lawn.”
“And you cleaned it up,” Sue said with a shrug.
“That’s true,” Emily said. “At least it makes a good story. Entertaining.”
“Yeah,” Sue said, because this whole encounter had been many things, but boring wasn’t one of them.
Emily opened her mouth to say something else, but was cut off by her cell phone buzzing against the surface of the kitchen table. She glanced at the screen and grimaced.
“It’s my mom,” she said apologetically. “Do you mind if I…”
“No, no, sure,” Sue said, waving her ahead. “Go for it.”
“Thanks,” Emily said, before sliding her finger along the screen to accept the call and bringing her cell phone to her ear. “Mom,” she said with no little amount of trepidation, then got up and walked into the next room.
Sue continued to finish her breakfast. She couldn’t hear much of the conversation but from what she caught of Emily’s voice it sounded like her entire family had been very concerned about her whereabouts, which was understandable. She finished eating and got up to let Austin out into the back yard. It was a mild sort of autumn day, her favourite kind. The wind was still soft and summery, unwilling to harden out into the chilly bite of winter just yet. The apple tree at the bottom of the yard was getting heavy with fruit. Sue considered going out to pick the apples later.
“Hey,” Emily said, reappearing in the kitchen and looking a little sheepish. “So, Austin is on his way to pick me up.” She paused and looked out at the yard. “My Austin,” she amended, clearly catching sight of Sue’s Austin, who was in the process of chasing a leaf that had landed on his nose and so probably wouldn’t be picking anyone up anywhere, particularly considering he was a dog.
“Sure,” Sue said. “Do you guys live together?”
“Yeah,” Emily said. “We’re roommates, actually. We get on pretty well, and we kind of couldn’t bear living with our parents any longer, and Lavinia’s still away at college, so…”
“Lavinia,” Sue repeated, trying to pinpoint the name. “Your sister?” she said after a second’s thought.
“Yeah,” Emily said, nodding. “Sorry, weird of me to assume you know her. Or me, honestly.”
“I do know you,” Sue told her, raising her eyebrows. “We went to school together.”
“Middle school,” Emily said.
“Still school,” Sue said.
“I’ve changed since then,” Emily informed her. She seemed quite proud of this. Sue could feel her lips curling up in a very small smile.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Everyone has, hasn't they?”
“Austin’s kind of the same,” Emily told her with a shrug. “You’ll see.” Then, after a second: “My Austin, not your Austin.”
“You don’t have to keep clarifying that,” Sue told her. “It’s obvious which one you mean.”
“Not always,” Emily argued.
“Sure,” Sue said, with a snort. Emily looked like she was about to continue making her point when the doorbell rang.
“That’ll be Austin,” she said. “My Austin.”
“Yeah,” Sue said. “My Austin is peeing in the yard, so.”
“That’s a good point,” Emily said, before heading over to the door. Sue followed her with slight hesitation. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so many guests in such a short stretch of time.
“You look like shit,” Emily said when she opened the door to reveal Austin Dickinson, who did actually look fairly similar to how Sue remembered him, just a lot taller, and now also hungover.
“Wow, Em,” Austin said. “Thanks. It’s good to see you too. How the hell did you end up here?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. She turned to Sue. “How far are you from The Spoke?”
Sue thought for a second. “Pretty far,” she said.
“Huh,” Emily said with a frown. “Were we at the Spoke last night?” she asked Austin.
“Yeah,” Austin said, peering past Emily at Sue. “Hey. Sue Gilbert, right?”
“Yeah,” Sue said with a wave.
“Thanks for saving my little sister,” he said with a grin. “She’s kind of crazy, so.”
“Austin,” Emily said with a sniff. “Shut up.”
“Uh-huh,” Austin said. “Well, let’s get going. We’re having lunch at Mom and Dad’s later.”
“Wait, what?” Emily said with horror. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack,” Austin said. “Sunday, remember?”
“Noooo,” Emily groaned, leaning dramatically against the doorframe. “I can’t do it, Austin, no way. I’m so hungover, I might die if I have to listen to Mom try to set me up with someone again…”
“You can tell her that yourself,” Austin said pleasantly. “I’m sure she’d take it well. Come on, I need to shower before we go. I’ll wait in the car.”
“Fine,” Emily grumbled, before looking over at Sue, who had watched the siblings’ exchange with covert interest.
“I’ll wait in the car,” Austin said. He paused to give Sue a small smile. “It was nice seeing you again, Sue.”
“You too,” Sue said. Her and Emily were left standing in the doorway as he strode over in a direction of a faded blue truck which looked very much worse for wear.
“So, thank you,” Emily said once he’d gone, her face softening out into a smile. “Again. You pretty much saved me last night. And those waffles were something else.”
“Don’t mention it,” Sue said, because she couldn’t think of something else to say and she was distracted by the recent realisation that as soon as Emily left she would be thinking about this whole night and morning for days afterwards.
“I won’t,” Emily said seriously. “Because, I mean, I am still mortified, so…”
“What happens on my front lawn stays on my front lawn,” Sue assured her, though not with a slight smirk. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Thanks,” Emily said, grinning. “And hey, you’ll probably see me again. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with Austin, so.” She paused and grimaced. “Your Austin,” she clarified.
Sue couldn’t help letting out a laugh. “Yeah,” she said. “Definitely my Austin.”
“I’m not that weird,” Emily told her, smiling wider. “Anyway. Thanks again, Sue from middle school. See you around.”
“Bye,” Sue said. She watched Emily walk through the front lawn (which, thankfully, looked vomit-free) over to Austin’s truck and get in. Both Dickinsons gave her a final wave through the car window and then they were gone. Sue closed the front door and went back to the kitchen. She found Austin sitting curled up on the chair where Emily had been sitting. He looked up at her entrance and let out a little snort before nosing at the seat of the chair.
“Yeah,” she said dazedly, looking at the remnants of their breakfast sitting on the table. “I don’t know what happened either.”