When the name Katherine Curren and a picture of the smiling blonde holding a sullen French Bulldog flashed on her phone, Helena nearly dropped the basket of laundry in her hands. She hurried through her apartment to set her things down, the steady rings mocking her as she scrambled. Finally setting everything down on her couch, she answered her phone with a breathless hello. The high pitched laugh was exactly as she remembered it being.
“You know it, Ki. I haven’t talked to you in ages!” Despite the fact that that it had been so long since she last spoke to her friend, it felt like she had just seen her yesterday. Her name constantly popping up at the magazine covers at the grocery probably also had something to do with it. “How’ve you been?” The tone was light, the question innocuous, but there were a thousand others lying in wait, unable to be said in case it was just too soon. Do you want to talk about it? Please tell me you’re not really on suicide watch. Did you actually throw his ring into the Thames? Those would all have to wait.
“How’s Quincey?” That was a neutral enough subject, wasn’t it? Hopefully her answer would be that the dog was fine and Kiki stopped dressing him in silly outfits. But Helena wasn’t going to hold her breath.