What They All Say

"What's the matter?" Cassie asked with a concerned frown the moment she walked in the door.

Thelma, who had been staring glumly off into space, glanced up at her and shrugged.

Taking her silence as a bad sign, Cassie walked over. "Come on, Thelma. Talk to me." She pulled the other girl into her arms, running soothing circles up and down her back with slender fingers.

"I have to get my wisdom teeth out," Thelma stated simply. "And then," she added thoughtfully, "I'll be an airhead like Roxanne and you won't like me anymore." She raised an eyebrow at her own remark.

Cassie's features visibly relaxed and the corners of her mouth twitched up a bit. "You know that's not true. You're my dyke in shining armour. I could never not like you – unless, of course, you don't return that jacket of mine that you borrowed last night."

Hand pausing on Thelma's shoulder, she pulled back a bit and offered her friend an encouraging smile. "Getting your wisdom teeth out can't be that bad, anyhow. I've heard the drugs are great for it. It'll be fine."

Thelma shook her head and reached up to lace their fingers together. "It's not that I'm worried about. It's the anaesthetic. Did you know there's a chance I could die from it? Die as in dead and then you'll have to go coffin shopping for me."

She paused. "Which reminds me. I've been thinking about what sort of coffin I'd like just in case. I'll have to tell you more on that later. Before I get these dreaded wisdom teeth out, of course."

Cassie stared at her, shocked. "C'mon, Thelma. You'll be fine."

Thelma shrugged her off and went back to staring into space.

"That's what they all say."