Emme
Today’s Learning Objective:
Students will drown their sorrows in melted cheese.
I wasn’tobsessive about being on time though I turned into a vicious little gremlin when I was late. Even worse if I would’ve been on time if not for other people getting in my way.
Case in point: half the sidewalks in this city being closed for construction or clogged with groups of people trying to figure out their Saturday night plans in the middle of Boylston Street.
By the time I reached the Newbury Street restaurant, I was fifteen minutes late and hot from darting in and out of traffic and elbowing anyone who got in my way.
I could feel the red in my cheeks. It was never pink with me, never a rosy blush, but always beet red like I was a sickly Victorian child with scarlet fever.
I stopped outside the restaurant to fix my hair and fan some cool air under my wintery layers. It was not the most elegant position—hunched over with my coat gaping open while I flapped the front of my sweater like I’d lost a cookie in there—though with my luck, it wasn’t surprising to hear a car door slam and then, “Everything okay over there, Muggsy?”
“Shit,” I sighed to myself. Straightening, I smoothed a hand down my sweater and over my hair. Still red-faced like I’d lost a slap contest, I turned to find all six feet, three and a half inches of Ryan Ralston staring at me. I barreled toward him, arms wide open. “It’s so damn good to see you.”
His arms lashed around me and my feet came off the ground, and a light, silly laugh loosed from my chest. It felt good to be with my friend again. It felt like coming home. Even if we were turning into the same people taking up the whole of the sidewalk that I was cursing and elbowing five minutes ago.
“Do I even want to know what you were doing over there?” he asked, his voice deep and quiet in my ear.
“Try to assume the best and ask no questions. The fewer details I disclose, the safer you’ll be.”
He set me down, his hands pausing on my hips as I regained my footing. He ran a cool, steady glance over me, lingering on my flushed face, and then motioned to the restaurant. “Does this work for you?”
I went back to fanning myself. “I’m good with anything.”
“We both know that’s rarely the case with you. Did you look at the menu?”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’m in the mood to turn my blood volume into pure vodka, so the food is incidental to me.”
A low laugh rumbled out of him. He had the best laughs. He wasn’t much for smiling, but I could always count on him for a laugh that would fill all the nicks and cuts on my soul.
“I take it we have some catching up to do.”
I headed toward the restaurant. “You won’t believe the half of it.”
He held open the door for me. “Try me.”
I leanedback in the sumptuous velvet circular booth and folded my legs in front of me because my feet didn’t reach the floor, saying, “Give me your updates first so I don’t feel bad about monopolizing the next hour with my pointless crises and personal dramas.”
He stared across the table at me, his dark coffee eyes lighting with amusement. “Onlythe next hour?”
The server returned with our drinks—a beer for Ryan, something with muddled blackberries and herbs and quite a lot of liquor for me—and I held up my glass for a toast. “Happy birthday, old man. Enjoy the time while you have it. I hear it’s all downhill after thirty.”
A fraction of a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as our glasses clinked together. His smiles reminded me of torn construction paper, jagged and unpredictable. Even his widest, truest smiles were uneven like that. And so, so rare. “Yeah, well, you’ll find out for yourself when we’re back here drinking to you in three months.”
I took a long sip and returned my glass to the crisp white tablecloth. I was trying to take it slow though the fruit in this drink told my brain I was drinking juice and should chug it. But I didn’t want to get sloppy or weepy. We hardly ever got to see each other and I didn’t want to blow it by drinking myself silly. And this was averynice place. That was probably why I’d never heard of it until Ryan sent a link to the menu.
“How’s the family?” I asked.
Ryan fired a glance at me and then down at the table. Loosely translated:Everyone is good, things are still hard, it’s fine, let’s not talk about it.“Claudia moved home after graduation.She’s managing social media content for that outdoor clothing company in Maine. She’s very proud of a series of videos she made from the point of view of a moose shopping for winter gear.”
“Oh, that’s fun,” I said, though even in my sorry state, the thought of returning to the coastal New Hampshire town we’d left felt like an unspeakable low. “Ruthie finished law school last spring, right? She’s local now?”
He hooked a finger inside the neck of his navy blue sweater, nodding. It looked soft and silky, definitely a cashmere blend. I doubted he knew that. Certainly didn’t care what his sweater was made of or that it probably cost more than my monthly rent. “She’s a junior associate at a corporate law firm in the Financial District. The hours are rough but she loves it.”
“And everyone else? All good?”
