I unlock the screen anyway.
We need to talk. Please. D.
I stare at the message for a long moment, my thumb hovering above it.
Delete. No reply.
The act leaves me both satisfied and breathless.
I will turn off my phone—but first, I need to call Silvia.
My best friend during that year in college, the girl who’d just moved from Barcelona, and who instantly became my loudest, brightest friend. Silvia always had a way of turning a mundane moment into an adventure.
“Chiquitaaaa!” she practically screams, pure joy in her voice.
“You won’t believe where I am.” I say, smiling as her laughter bursts through the speaker.
“Let me guess. Somewhere completely gorgeous and totally dramatic?”
“Maybe,” I tease her, letting the breeze carry my words.
She gasps, all drama. “Tell me! Tell me! You know I have zero patience.”
“Lake Michigan. Willow Creek.”
“No way!” She lets out another delighted shriek. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming to the U.S.! Oh, Chiquita, I’m so happy! We have to meet.”
We talk for nearly an hour about life, work, and all the things we never seem to have enough time to say.
Her voice is a rush of energy, a reminder of the amazing time we had together, of the kind of friendship that feels untouched by distance or years.
Even though we haven’t kept in close contact, it’s like I left yesterday—the connection is still there, alive and warm. Her joy, her wildness, the way she throws herself into every word—it reminds me of my own spark.
The one I lost.
But in this moment, I want to feel it again.
“Come to San Diego,” she urges, playful but firm. “We need a girls’ weekend. Sun, margaritas, hot surfers...”
“Don’t tempt me.” I can’t help but smile; she always had a way of breaking through my walls.
“You have to, Della! You can’t leave without seeing my beautiful, crazy face.”
“You’re definitely crazy,” I say, laughing softly.
Silvia chuckles, then her tone shifts, more serious but still playful.
“When does your visa expire?”
“My visa’s fine,” I reply. “It’s valid for six months. But my return flight is booked for next week, Silvia.”
She lowers her voice, warm and insistent.
“Please. Just think about it, okay? If I could hop on a plane, I would’ve flown to you already.”
My smile fades slightly, the weight of her words settling in my chest.
“I miss you, Silvia,” I admit quietly.
