Free Between Us Girls by Sally John

deliriously giggly?
    Her temporary ID and replacement credit and debit cards had arrived. She had her own new cell phone too, a smarter one than her lost one. Its built-in camera was better, and it meant she didn’t have to replace her camera yet. But those things made life easier, not exactly a cloud nine experience.
    Two weeks at the Casa could easily explain it. Nestled under Mama Liv’s wing, she couldn’t help but feel good. Mama Liv . That was what others called her at times. She clearly affected everyone with her nurturing vibes.
    The woman would not let her pay rent. Instead, she gave her chores, little ones. Jasmyn cleaned the laundry room and the office, weeded flower beds, swept the courtyard, and ran errands. Almost daily she and Liv either ate together or went to the coffee shop down the street.
    And the neighbors. They kept inviting her to do things. Well, all except for Keagan. Jasmyn was okay with that because he wasn’t exactly friendly. Liv said he was an angel, but the woman tended to be over-the-top with positive thinking.
    Everyone else, though, treated her royally. She’d gone running three times with Sam, went to the ice-cream shop with Riley and Tasha, played Monopoly with Noah and his daughter in the courtyard, eaten meals atInez and Louis’s, gone with Piper and Chad to a Japanese restaurant where they cooked everything right at the table on a huge surface, and watched an old video with Coco, the generous cream sharer.
    Smiling, Jasmyn added cream to her coffee now, tilted the phone from her mouth, and said to the soundproof wall that divided her cottage from the neighbor’s, “Thank you, Coco.”
    â€œCoco?” Quinn interrupted herself. “You’re having hot cocoa in the land of perpetual summer?”
    â€œNo. I was talking to Coco Vizzini. I told you about her.”
    â€œI can’t keep them all straight.”
    â€œShe’s the sweet, doddery ex-movie star in Cottage Twelve. I should say, film star. That’s what she says. She’s so cute.”
    â€œIs she there?”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œWith you, Miss Sun-Soaked Brain. In your little cottage number whatever.”
    Jasmyn rolled her eyes. “Nope. I was just using the second carton of cream she’s given me, and so I thanked her through the walls. Did I mention she danced in a 1950s movie that was nominated for a Best Picture Oscar?”
    â€œYou’re talking to some nonexistent woman.”
    â€œShe exists.”
    â€œSomewhere else. She’s not there with you.”
    â€œSheesh, you sound grumpy.” Teasing sometimes took the edge off Quinn’s demeanor. “Have you had your coffee yet? Mine is so good with this cream. Mmm.” She slurped from her mug.
    â€œIt’s September seventeenth.”
    â€œThe seventeenth. Okay. I’ll take your word for it. I just got up and haven’t looked at a calendar, not that I have a calendar to look—”
    â€œSeptember s eventeenth , Jasmyn.”
    September seventeenth.
    She leaned against the kitchen counter and looked around the room. The walls were bare. If she lived there, truly lived there, she would hang up a calendar, a pretty one with garden scenes. No, ocean scenes. Or wild animals from the zoo that Liv said she wished they had time to visit—
    â€œJasmyn Albright, I called to commiserate with you,” Quinn scolded.“Or celebrate. Or something a friend would do like she’s done once a month for the past six months. I guess you didn’t need it.”
    On second thought, maybe she’d skip the calendar part and hang up paintings of flowers or ocean. That way she wouldn’t have to look at months and dates.
    Quinn said, “Six months is a milestone. A whole half a year.”
    Six months. When had she stopped counting?
    In the beginning she had counted, first in hours, then in days and weeks, finally in months. She counted the passing of time