The Note

by Alafair Burke

A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out. —Walter Winchell

“And here I was, thinking you were talking to me,” Josh said. “I’ll miss you too, but Gomez can’t text and call me, can you, sweetie? No, you don’t have any thumbs or we’d text all the time.”

For a dispositional grade-grubber like May, those digitized words of praise were a morning drug. Rather than get stalled at Genius, May, Lauren, and Kelsey conspired to hit Queen Bee every day by comparing word lists.

Lauren, because of the affair. Kelsey, because of her husband’s murder. And May, because of a confrontation on a subway platform. Three women, judged and vilified by strangers.

When they tried to soften the blow by saying how “agreeable” and “amenable” everyone found her to work with, she pictured herself calmly rising from her chair, throwing it across the conference table, and then walking out the door as they stared at her in shock.

she selected the most elegant sympathy card on the rack, knowing it didn’t capture the message she wanted to convey: Sorry-your-soon-to-be-ex-was-murdered-and-no-I-don’t-think-you-killed-him-but-other-people-definitely-do.

Like mutual follows, or people you met a long time ago and reconnect with. I don’t know how old you are, but probably how Facebook used to be.” Carter was only forty-two, not much older than Dave Smith, but this guy was one step away from calling him a boomer.

“Are you with the police?” she asked. Her long gray hair was piled on top of her head in a bun. Her beach dress reminded him of Mrs. Roper from the Three’s Company repeats his mother used to watch

“You and Hal are all good,” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t toke and drive though, okay?” She smiled slyly. “It’s a deal.”

It’s a lot to get my head around and right now I’m focused on Kelsey. I hope you are well. I hope you are well? Best wishes. Warmest regards. She regretted it immediately after hitting send. I’m sorry. That was obnoxious. I truly am sorry. For everything.