“I don’t think there’s as much space as you think.” Amy picks up her plate. “They care about you, Wesley. Give them a chance.”
I eat a piece of pizza alone in the kitchen, even though I’m not hungry. Just so I can tell Amy I did. It tastes like sawdust and oregano. I go back to the living room and lean against the couch. Jeremy gets up to stand beside me.
“So...” I say after moment. “What’s new?”
Trying to have a conversation with one of my oldest friends feels like the social equivalent of trying to make conversation during a prostate exam.
“Not much.” Jeremy scratches his chin. “I’m starting law school in the fall.”
“Dude, that’s great.”
Jer and I played on the same baseball team in high school and went to the same university. He’s wanted to be a lawyer since he was fifteen. He’s the least argumentative person I know. He’s just really good at remembering facts.
“Where’s Angie?” I ask.
He winces. “We...uhhh...we’re ‘on a break,’” he says with finger quotes.
I flush, staring into the TV screen so he doesn’t see how embarrassed I am that I missed something so big in my friend’s life. Yet he’s still here, wanting to be my friend, despite my abandonment. I want to reel him in for his own eye-bulging hug. But I settle for, “Oh. Sorry.”
He shrugs and we both fall silent again. Our friends chat around us but there’s a stilted air to it all. Amy, usually the loudest person in any room, is strangely quiet. Jeremy shifts on his feet beside me.
I became a little reclusive after our mom got really sick, but our friends didn’t do much to close the gap. And I get it. Dealing with sickness and death is never fun. Especially when you’ve just finished college and are ready to start a life of your own. But now there’s this gap between us all that becomes a chasm as the awkward silence stretches.
“Listen,” Jeremy says, quietly. “I know we haven’t seen much of each other the last year...”
Jeremy studies his hands for a moment. “I’m really sorry about Laura. I miss her.” He smiles at me. “I miss you, too,” he says quietly.
I glance down at the back of Amy’s dark head. She hasn’t turned around but I know she’s listening. The thing is, no, my friends didn’t do much to close the gap, but a phone works two ways. I could have called. I could have texted.
Jeremy would have come over and sat with me on the couch while my mom napped. He would have joined me while I waited for her in a doctor’s office waiting room. My momlovedJeremy. He would have made her laugh until she cried.
Jeremy would have sat with me whileIcried after she was gone. He would have come over and played endless hours of video games with me while I tried to deal with my grief.
He would have commiserated with me when I wanted to vent about Ms. Blunt.
I just never gave him the chance.
“Dang.” Amy pops up over the back of the couch. “I should have bought some pizza pockets.”
Jeremy laughs. “Yes.Laura was always good for a pocket.”
Everyone makes a noise of agreement and turns back to their conversations.
I elbow Jeremy. “I miss you, too...man,” I say.
Jeremy pretends to wipe away a tear. “Don’t be a stranger, Chambers.”
I won’t, I promise myself.
“What are you guys doing for your birthday?” Rebecca, the owner of the high heels, asks.
I hadn’t even thought about our birthday. The idea of celebrating my twenty-fifth birthday without my mom singing a terribly off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday,” the homemade cake a tiny bonfire with all twenty-five candles blazing, brings a sudden sting to my eyes.
“Dinner. All of us. Then drinks. This Friday.” Amy rattles off the birthday plans like we’ve had them for months.
I open my mouth to say no but close it again when she turns to me.
“You’d better leave work this time.”
