4
Skyler
"Wanna talk about it?" Noah asks.
"About what?"
We're re-arranging the living room for Ollie's first birthday party, making space for people to sit and putting away anything that might be easily breakable.
Who knew you'd need the same level of care for the party of a one-year-old as you do for a twenty-year-old.
We should know. After all, we trashed Noah's place a few times before we decided to grow up. Well,hedecided to grow up.
Fortunately, their house is huge, so there's plenty of space for people to move around.
"You were all pensive last week at Vino, and since then, you've been quiet. No calls, no messages."
"Shit, man, I'm sorry. I'll do better this week," I say.
"Dude, Ollie can live without his daily cow selfies. I just wondered what that was all about last weekend. When Wyatt came back with the drinks, he said there was this weird tension between you and the bartender."
I take a deep sigh.
"Do you remember Judson Hale?"
"Your best friend? The one who left?"
"Yeah."
Noah stares at me for a moment before the pieces slot into place. "That was him? The bartender? Wait…he's back? Did you know?"
"No." I run my hand over the back of my neck, poking my tired muscles. "I mean, yes, that was him, but no, I didn't know he was back."
"Wow. Are you going to speak to him? Find out why he was gone all this time?"
I push the couch so it's where Noah wants it and then sit on it, leaning forward with my forearms on my knees. "I don't know."
When I saw him, all the feelings I had ten years ago came rushing back, along with the confusion and betrayal. Why did he leave without saying a word?
I'm angry that, whatever happened, neither I nor our friendship meant enough to him for even a goodbye, a message, an email.
In the last ten years, I’ve relied on bites of second- and third-hand information.
After a while, I stopped tuning into conversations whenever his name was mentioned because it hurt too much to hear he was out there fulfilling our dream without me.
I don't want thoughts of Jud to ruin this day, so I stand up and move the other couch before declaring the room suitable to be trashed by a rowdy bunch of babies and toddlers.
"Babe, can you get Ollie? He just woke up," Anita shouts from the kitchen.
My eyes meet Noah, and we both smile and run up the stairs to Ollie's bedroom.
He's sitting in his crib, holding onto his favorite toy, a baby cow I gave him when he was born.
Ollie's squishable cheeks are pink from teething, but he's smiling, and as soon as he sees me, he waves his arms.
"Moo Moo."
I pick him up while Noah grabs the stuff we need to change him and get him dressed for the party.
