Even if we're in different places in our lives, it's like a day hasn't passed as I reconnect with my old friend.
And I even let it slide that Seth turned into an Angels fan. When we were little, we were diehard Dodger fans. Watching him root for the wrong team on the TV above the bar is blasphemy.
He also got pineapple on his pizza, another sacrilegious notch against him. The teasing is brotherly, and before the night ends, I realize this is the kind of connection and friendship I was missing.
I don't want our childhood stories to be the only thing I have left of him. I want to create new memories with Seth and not confess to my mom tonight that he's "some guy I don't know anymore." I need to make an effort this time around and let the past go.
He and I both made mistakes but are willing to forgive and forget—two things necessary to build a foundation for a new kind of friendship. And something I swore I would work on now that I’m home.
I'll be seeing more of him as time allows, and I promise him even if life gets too busy, I'll attend his daughter's first birthday party so I can meet his family.
A lot can happen in four months. I have no idea where I'll be and what I might be doing, but at least I know I'll have an old friend by my side.
Onmydriveupto LA for the interview, Lucille talks to me the entire way, preparing me with facts and sales numbers like she has it all memorized. She's a lifesaver.
"Remember to smile when you talk, it helps," she suggests over speakerphone. "And call me after to let me know how it goes."
"I will, thank you for everything."
"Good luck."
I'm up there with plenty of time to spare, and I'm grateful I got the earliest time slot. I like being the first so they know they already found their candidate.
Theohasbeenquietthrough text messages, so when I get home and see him sitting in the kitchen for lunch, my stoic face reveals nothing.
He's careful with his words when I set down my purse. "How did it go?"
"I killed it!" I exclaim. I think I even do a jump in the air that's quite unlike me. "Theo, I did so well. That was the best interview I've ever done. They were so impressed."
Now it's his turn to display an unflappable reaction. "I knew it. I'm so proud of you."
He's happy for me, I know he is, but he also looks…defeated.
What could that be about? Because he knows I'll be moving back to LA and whatever is going on with us ends? He knows this won't last—itcan'tlast. It’s the mantra I’ve been repeating in my head. He has to be reciting it, too.
"When will you find out you got the job?"
"They said they'll have an answer no later than tomorrow. I'm going to be glued to my phone waiting for that call."
"You deserve this, Amelia. You do. I'm so happy for you."
"Thanks." I'm catching my breath, high off the excitement of one of my dreams finally coming true.
I wanted a career that gave me a purpose, that challenged me, something that wouldn't feel like "work," and I'm so close to checking that box again.
"Want to go out and celebrate?" I feel like spending money.
"I have an appointment with my therapist soon, actually."
"Oh, wow, you do? That's great. How is that going?"
"Yeah, it's only my second session. But I like him. Thanks again for getting all the information for me."
I watch as he washes his plate off and sets it in the dishwasher. His body language is throwing me off because it's so opposite of the sweet, supportive words he's saying.
"Is everything okay?" I place a palm on his shoulder.
"Oh yeah, preparing myself for an afternoon unpacking all the baggage in my head."
