Tension wove itself thick in the silence that stretched through the phone. Naomi was a little bit in shock. She couldn't figure out how Lyla had even found out about this visit. The only one who could have told her was Eli, but Naomi knew Eli wouldn't do that. Nevermind the fact that Eli wasn't that kind of guy, he also didn't have Lyla's phone number. None of it made any sense.
"Lyla," Naomi finally said into the phone, "listen--"
"No, you listen!" Lyla interrupted, her voice practically a growl. The fury in her tone was unmistakable. Naomi had never heard such animosity from her friend, and it had certainly never been directed at her before. "When I told you about my dad today, it wasn't so you'd go and do this. I told you I didn't want to talk to him! Why would you think talking to him for me was such a good idea?"
Naomi stood on the sidewalk stammering for a minute. She didn't know what to say. She knew there was no explanation she could give to Lyla that would appease her. She took a shuddering breath in. "I was just trying to help," she said truthfully.
"You were trying to help?" Lyla echoed, incredulous. "Scaring my father away to another state; that was your idea of trying to help mend bridges with him?"
"What?" Naomi stared at the phone in her hand as if the device might clear the statement up for her. It didn't, but that was no surprise to Naomi. What did come as a shock to her was Lyla's irritation at losing a chance to "mend bridges" with her father. "I thought you wanted him to go away. You said you weren't going to meet up with him."
"Yeah, I said I wasn't going to see him yet," Lyla snapped. "I didn't mean I was never going to talk to the guy! He left, and I didn't want him to think that everything would magically be okay if he suddenly reappeared in California. I was going to have my mom give him my number so we could slowly rebuild our relationship over text first. Then, if all went well with that and I felt like I could trust him, I was going to set up a meeting with him and get to know him face to face."
"Oh," was all Naomi could respond with. She awkwardly rubbed at her forehead, feeling stupid. "That's actually not a bad plan."
"Well it doesn't matter now!" Lyla yelled. Naomi could hear a sniffle, and she knew Lyla was crying.
"Lyla, I'm so sorry," Naomi apologized.
"It's a little late for that," Lyla huffed. "Don't call this number. I need some space for a bit. Okay?"
Naomi was going to respond that it was definitely not okay. She wanted to apologize about one thousand more times. Lyla was her best friend and she was not okay with knowing she had hurt her. Besides, she needed to stay in the loop with her to make sure she didn't end up dead. She didn't get the chance to say any of that though before the call ended. Lyla had hung up, and Naomi already knew that if she tried to call back it would only go to voicemail.
This was a nightmare. She hadn't wanted to hurt Lyla. And she really thought it wouldn't matter anyway. After the talk they'd had that morning, Lyla had sounded pretty clear about wanting nothing to do with her father. Naomi tugged at her hair in frustration. She'd really screwed the pooch on this one. She couldn't believe she'd misread the situation so badly.
'It's probably not even the only thing I misread today,' Naomi thought with an inward groan. Their moment at the park came to mind. Instead of being a vibrant, ecstatic memory it was now cloudy and confusing. Originally Naomi had thought that Lyla had been about to kiss her then. Now she thought about it and found the assumption ridiculous. Lyla had always been just a friend. In that moment she'd only been talking about how glad she was to have Naomi as a friend, until now of course when Naomi had thrown a wrench in their relationship.
She couldn't even believe that this had happened. She felt really bad for assuming Lyla would be okay with it. She didn't exactly feel like she'd done the wrong thing, talking Lyla's father into going back to his home in Ohio. He still posed a threat, and she'd still rather him leave the state than hang around and turn murderous. She just wished she'd been a little more sensitive to Lyla. Maybe she shouldn't have gone behind her back to talk to Mr. Murphy, or maybe she should've been the one to tell Lyla what her father was now planning to do.
That still begged the question: who had told Lyla? Naomi had just made it down to the lobby and outside to the front of the building. How in the world did Lyla already know that Naomi had talked to her father? Eli couldn't have, and if DJ had stopped by to fill her in then Lyla's barrage of angry questions probably wouldn't have been centered so much around her father. It just didn't make any sense.
Naomi trudged down the sidewalk with her head hanging low. She supposed it didn't really matter so much how Lyla had found out. What mattered is that she knew, and she was upset because of it. She'd told her not to call, but Naomi wondered how ticked off she'd be if she showed up at her house. Hopefully not ticked enough that she'd send her away. Her chances would be better if she brought baked goods though. Lyla's favorites were peanut butter blondies, which also happened to be one of Naomi's specialties. She already had the ingredients for them at her house. It wouldn't take too long for her to whip up a batch, and it would also give Lyla some time to figure out exactly how mad she was at Naomi.
It wasn't the best plan, especially given everything else going on in the universe-- or rather, the multiverse according to what DJ had let slip. Still, it was the most solid way Naomi had to get back in Lyla's good graces. That way she could also convince Lyla to stay out of her house that night in case Mr. Murphy decided to pay her a visit anyway. She hated the thought of Lyla being mad at her, and maybe one day she could find a way to tell her about all of this and explain why she'd chased away her dad. For now, peanut butter blondies would have to be enough.
"Oh, you're back," DJ commented haughtily as Naomi slipped through the front door.
Naomi shot her a look. "It's my house, remember?"
DJ fixed her with a firm glare in return. The demon looked her up and down, her arms crossed over her chest. "I take it your talk with Kurt Murphy went well," she said, her tone flat and indifferent.
"He agreed to head back to Ohio," Naomi curtly informed the demon. She dropped her gaze to the floor, shuffling her feet awkwardly as the rest of that scene played out in her mind. "Um, it also got back to Lyla, what I'd done."
DJ's head tilted to the side, a slight smirk twitching up the corners of her lips. "And how did the distressed damsel handle the news?" she asked.
"She wasn't very happy about it," Naomi sighed. Her eyes began blinking rapidly, trying to force back the sudden onslaught of tears. "She was actually pretty upset. I think she might hate me now."
DJ seemed to soften at that. She grabbed the brown shawl draped over her shoulders, tightening it around her body, and she took a tentative step closer. "I'm sure she doesn't hate you," she said. "Humans are sensitive creatures. They tend to get upset over anything that reminds them how little control they have over the universe. But the bonds they create with other humans? It takes a lot to sever those completely. She may want some space, but I'd be extremely surprised if she was totally done with you."
"You think?" Naomi questioned. She felt a glimmer of hope spark to life at the demon's assessment.
"I do indeed," DJ promised. She offered a small smile to the girl. "If you plan on keeping an eye on her tonight, you might consider working on an apology for her immediately."
Naomi nodded her agreement. "Way ahead of you," she told her and she walked past her to get to the kitchen where she could open up the cabinets for a mixing bowl.
DJ sat for a minute and watched as Naomi gathered out all of the ingredients for the peanut butter blondies, a bewildered expression on her face. "What's all of this?"
"My apology," Naomi explained. She rolled her eyes when the demon only looked more puzzled. "Humans often bring gifts to back the words to an apology. In this case, I'm making her a dessert. Her favorite, actually. A pastry called peanut butter blondies."
"Interesting," DJ murmured, picking up the jar of peanut butter and examining it like it was a specimen from Mars.
Naomi gave her an amused look before gently taking the jar back so she could open the top and scoop some of it out. The first few times she'd made the pastries, she'd taken the time to carefully measure out every ingredient. At this point in life, she'd made them so many times that she had it all memorized. She hardly needed measuring cups for the recipe anymore. Mostly she could just eyeball it and know she was good.
"This doesn't look very sustaining," DJ observed as Naomi added in the brown sugar.
"It's not," Naomi confirmed with a shrug. "But it does taste good."
DJ gave her a dubious look. Then, without warning, she stuck a finger into the bowl, scooped out some of the unmixed concoction, and stuck it all in her mouth. It barely passed her lips before she grimaced. "I'm afraid I have to disagree," she informed Naomi, coughing for better emphasis.
"Yeah, well, it's not done yet," Naomi told her. "I haven't even mixed that yet. Of course it tastes bad."
"A warning might have been nice," DJ replied, giving the mixing bowl a sullen look.
Naomi rolled her eyes and started stirring a wooden spoon around the bowl. Normally she preferred to use a mixer, but given that these were apology blondies she figured hand mixing the ingredients might work better. Once she was done with that she transferred the concoction into a baking pan and slid it all into the oven before sitting to wait at the kitchen table.
DJ approached, looking between her and the oven with a puzzled look. "How long do we wait?" she asked.
Naomi held up the timer on her phone for the demon to see. It was currently counting down from twenty-three minutes, the usual cook time for Naomi's blondies. The time usually went by relatively quickly, though of course Naomi usually didn't have to entertain a demon in those minutes. The one she had now was keeping herself occupied by pacing and huffing and grumbling under her breath.
'How can a supernatural creature be so impatient?' Naomi wondered, feeling more than a little bit annoyed.
DJ lifted her head up to glare at the girl. "I'll have you know I don't usually deal with time," she growled. "It's pointless. And all this waiting around is making me anxious."
"You and me both," Naomi mumbled, relieved when the timer on her phone finally went off. She practically leapt out of her chair and sprinted over to the oven, pulling the tray of blondies out with renewed vigor. She really hoped the sweets would work. She really didn't want Lyla to be mad at her anymore.
"Shall I drive?" DJ offered as Naomi wrapped aluminum foil over the pan.
Naomi's head shot up in surprise. She fixed the demon with a very pointed look, feeling both betrayed and astounded at the question. "You have a car," she began in an even tone, "and you didn't offer to drive me to the hotel?"
"Oh," DJ said, crossing her arms again. "No, I do not."
Naomi sighed and picked up the covered tray of blondies. "I really miss my bike."
"It would come in handy for you now," DJ agreed, nodding her head. She opened the front door so Naomi could pass through. "I'll check in on you later."
"You're not coming?" Naomi questioned, surprised the demon was leaving again.
"Of course not," DJ said simply. "How would we explain me to your friend?"
The demon had a point. Naomi didn't bother to respond, which turned out to be the correct response because when she turned around to close her door DJ was already gone again. Naomi gripped the pastries tighter and set a nice pace for the Murphy residence.
She remembered the last time she'd made Lyla mad. It had been a very stupid argument. Lyla's cousin had given her a gift card for her birthday to a shop where people customized their own stuffed animals. It had definitely seemed like the sort of thing that was meant for little kids, and Naomi had teased her about it for days, joking that she would ask for the same gift card for her sixteenth birthday so the two of them could spend it together. Lyla had finally told her that it was the same shop her grandpa had taken her and her cousin to for all their birthdays when they were little. Naomi hadn't known that, nor had she known that the grandfather in question had Alzheimers and no longer recognized either one of his grandkids. She'd felt super bad about it, and so she'd baked Lyla these same sugary treats. It had worked as an apology then. She hoped it would work for her now.
The tray wobbled dangerously as Naomi switched it to one hand, raising the other to knock on the front door. Nobody answered, and Naomi would have thought that no one was home except that Mrs. Murphy's car was in the driveway. The message then was clear. Apparently Lyla was not only going to send her back home, she wasn't even going to see her. Naomi's heart dropped, and she had to blink back her tears.
The welcome mat in front of the door was dirty and faded, but it was still the best place to leave the tray. Naomi still wished she could apologize again. She wouldn't force it on Lyla though. If the girl didn't want to see her, then Naomi would respect that. She would leave the blondies on the porch and hope for a text later.
Just as she was turning to leave, the door creaked open. Naomi spun back around, hope filling her chest. It dissipated as she locked eyes with Lyla's mother, noting the ill-disguised scowl on the woman's face. She'd never seen Mrs. Murphy look angry. She'd always hoped never to see it, especially in a moment where she was the subject of the woman's disappointment.
"Hi," Naomi offered, scuffling her foot awkwardly against the porch. She hated how small she sounded. Then again she hated how small she felt, too.
"Hi," Mrs. Murphy returned in a clipped tone. She regarded the girl, her face betraying no emotions. "I assume those are for Lyla?"
Naomi nodded and scooped up the treats, holding them out to the woman as a peace offering. "For both of you," Naomi corrected, feeling awkward when the woman still didn't take them. "They're peanut butter. Lyla's favorite. I would've made something for you, too, but I wasn't sure what you liked."
"Peanut butter is fine," Mrs. Murphy replied congenially. She let out a sigh, her shoulders drooping immensely. She accepted the tray of blondies. "Naomi, I really think you should leave."
"Oh," Naomi said, her heart sinking. "Okay. Just, if you could let Lyla know I'm really, really sorry. I-I would appreciate it."
Mrs. Murphy nodded. "I will," she promised.
As Naomi turned to go, she was stopped once more by Lyla's mother. The woman cleared her throat, and Naomi spun back around. She clearly wanted to tell her something, but the words seemed caught in her throat. Naomi waited patiently, unsure of what to expect. She figured waiting was the least she could do in that moment.
Finally, Mrs. Murphy spoke. "I really wish you hadn't done what you did," she said. Before Naomi could respond, the door closed in her face.
Sweat trickled down her forehead as she started the walk back to her house. She didn't mind it though. In fact, she felt like she deserved it. She figured she probably deserved worse.