“Whoa. Are you getting defensive?” Shane asks quizzically, arching her eyebrow toward me.

“No,” I say, blushing when I realize how defensive that sounds. “Listen,” I exhale deeply. “Whatever reason Dana has for wanting me around, I’m grateful. And I’m really grateful to you guys for planning this. She’s been a little mopey and I think this is exactly what she needed.”

“It’s all Bette,” Shane says. “We just showed up.” We share a smile. Bette is the ultimate party planner with an attention to detail that would make Martha Stewart seem pathetic.

“Well,” I glance over to see Dana deeply engaged in a conversation about a book with Jenny. “That means a lot.”

I revel in the delicious coolness of the late evening as we settle into a comfortable silence and I am grateful for the momentary reprieve. The truth is, my head has been swimming for the week and a half since Dana came home from the hospital. It has been absolutely exhausting to make sure I don’t cross any boundaries, to carefully choose my words and most of all, to try and read her. Sometimes, she’s moody and difficult and other times, she is as exuberant as a little kid. And sometimes she’ll hug me or put her hand on my forearm and I melt. Other times, she’s distant. I don’t know what to think. I don’t want to think anymore.

I feel Shane’s touch, light on my shoulder. “Hey,” she says softly, concern in her voice. “What is it?”

Maybe it’s because I could always tell Shane anything and when I told her not to say anything, I knew she’d take it to the grave. Maybe it’s because I needed to vent to someone and I know she would listen. Maybe it’s because Shane is my other best friend and I knew from experience she would give me good advice and I would trust it. So I tell her.

“When Dana got that infection and we didn’t know if she would make it, I was so scared. More scared than I’ve ever been in my entire life, Shane.” I swallow. “I even prayed.”

I half expect her to scoff but she nods. “Me too.”

“Really?”

“Well, not in the traditional sense, but yeah.”