“Hello,” I say. I climb into the bed with her, and she snuggles into me. “I’m so sorry, Dells.”

She sniffles.

“I’m not going to say cheesy, comforting, and slightly offensive things,” I tell her.

“I know,” she says. “That’s why I like it that you’re here.”

“Who said the worst thing?” I ask. “Out of all of them.”

“Aunt Yoli. She said my womb may not be fertilized enough to take seed.”

We both snort with laughter, and that’s what best friends are all about. Turning the bleak.

“Aunt Yoli once told me that my breasts would never make a hungry baby full,” I tell her. “I was only thirteen.”

We laugh some more, and I take Della’s hand.

She turns on the TV, and we watch Desperate Housewives until Kit relieves me, and comes to lie with her on the bed. We barely exchange a glance, but as we cross paths I grab his hand and squeeze. Sorry about the baby. He squeezes back.

I go to their house every night after work. Della is taking it hard. Harder even than I thought. I make their meals and stay with her while Kit is at work. And, once again, my life is consumed by Della’s grief. I don’t mind except that I’m tired. And I still have a little of my own grief to deal with. June accuses me of being an enabler. I think about the way I encourage June to wear ugly hats, and I know she’s right.

I am cleaning up the kitchen one night after she’s fallen asleep when Kit gets home from work. I see the lights from his truck, and I can’t help but feel excited. A non-depressed person to talk to! He hoists himself on the counter next to where I’m washing dishes.

“You have to take care of you too,” is the first thing he says to me. And then I start to cry. It’s so stupid, nothing bad has happened to me. I have no right.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t mean to make this about me.”

Kit laughs a little. “You never make anything about you. Maybe you should.”

I wave him away. “I’m fine. Everything is good. What about you? You okay?”

Kit shakes his head. “You can’t change the subject and try to distract me.”

I watch the water drain out of the sink. “I’m really uncomfortable talking about myself. I’d rather you tell me about you.”

“All right. What would you like to know?”

“Had you told your family about the baby?”

His face doesn’t betray a thing. He’s basically unreadable. “No. It was early.”

Fair enough.

“How do you feel about it?”

He chews on his bottom lip. “I don’t know. I barely had time to process the pregnancy before it was over.”

“Are you sad?” I press him. I want to know something. He gives so little.

“I don’t know.”

“For someone who seems to know so much about everyone else’s feelings, you seem to know so little about your own.”

Kit grimaces. “Maybe I don’t like talking about myself either.”

“Hmmm,” I say, grinning. “What ever will we do?”

He jumps down from his perch. “Go for a walk,” he says.

I look back toward their room. “Okay. Should we leave a note?”

“Did she take her sleeping pill?”

I nod.

“She’ll be out ‘til morning then.”

I follow him out the door and down the drive. I try to predict which way he’ll turn down the street, and I get it wrong. The air smells slightly of the ocean, and gasoline from the highway. It’s the smell of escape and freedom. I wonder if Kit notices, and if it makes him want to jump in his truck and drive, drive, drive away from perfection.

“Kit,” I say. “Are you in love?”

He grimaces. “Why do you ask me that every time we go on a walk?”

“Why do you never answer the question?”

“It’s uncomfortable,” he says. “And none of your business.”

I laugh. “Fair enough, Kit Kat.”

Kit sighs. “Please don’t make me relive high school.”

People called him Kit Kat in high school. That’s cute. I wonder what he was like.

When I think he’s not going to answer my question, he does. “I want to be, Helena. I’ve tried.”

I know he’s shared something incredibly personal with me so I try not to react. I want to grab him by the lapels and scream, “WHAT THE HELL?!” and “That’s my best friend’s heart you’re messing with!”

Instead, I clear my throat. “Oh yeah? You almost became a dad, Kit. That’s a scary life cocktail you’re mixing.” He’s quiet for a long time.

“You’ve been friends with Della for years, Helena. You know how she is. There have been a couple of times when we’ve come close to ending things. She … threatens herself.”

I am surprised. I am. I’ve never known Della to use suicide to make a guy stay. I’ve also never known Della to try to get pregnant. People change I guess.

“I don’t know what to say, Kit. I’m not sure that’s a good reason to stay, though. Sounds pretty unhealthy.”

“I care about her. So much.”

“I think you really, really need to love someone to have a baby with them. And even then, sometimes couples don’t make it.”

“Why are you talking in that weird voice?” He’s looking at me sideways, and I get swirly whirlies in my belly.