I hear Amantha’s spoon clatter to the tabletop, and I snort a laugh.
Val says hello to the three of us, toes off his sneakers beforeplacing them neatly into the shoe closet, and swipes a protein shake from the fridge.
“I was never here,” he says, kissing the top of Amantha’s head. “I’m just gonna shower off and watch the Vikings game in the office.”
Amantha exclaims, “But we moved Kate’s stuff to the office.”
Val redirects. “K, I’ll watch it in our room after I shower.” He catches Amantha practically drooling and hitches an eyebrow. “Unless you’re also in sudden need of a shower, Adams?”
I yank my best friend back down into her chair and yell, “Gross! Get out of here, Russo!”
Julia’s cheeks are hot pink, and I think Amantha mutters something about not wanting cold soup as she pokes at her ice cream.
I peer at Amantha, whose antics seem kinda off today, but I can’t figure out why. Maybe it’s because Ryan will be dropping off Anthony this afternoon, and she always gets weird when Val and her ex are in the same place.
Julia distracts me by retrieving a laptop out of her leather cross-body bag. Her eyes rove the ceiling for a second like she’s prepping for a speech.
“Kate, I have a few things I need to say. The first is”—her rosy lips lift—“thank you.”
I stare at her, and she takes my hand with a timid smile. “If it weren’t for you pitching me to the museum, I would have never been able to test my marketing skills on a bigger scale. I’ve had the time of my life these last few months.”
A soft blanket wraps around my aching heart, and it feels less raw.
“Thank you for saying that,” I say.
Julia pulls her shoulders back. “I wanted to give you something in return. Something that you might be able to use in the future to market your photography, if that’s ever something you choose to do. Or to have just as a keepsake.” She opens her laptop to a video, and Amantha and I scoot closer.
And on the screen, it’s…me.
There I am on Hammond Boulevard, cold wind chapping my pink cheeks, my camera poised and ready at the mural across the street. Julia must have been filming from over my shoulder, because I don’t remember her taking this shot.
There I am again, on that sunny day outside Patterson’s Market. Iremember the thump in my chest as I lined up the hand-heart mural within my viewfinder. A surprised laugh puffs out of me as I watch myself twerking after capturing the shot to the chorus of taxi honks. I watch myself stick my tongue out at Julia. The montage continues with shots of me.
It’s like I’m watching a stranger, so silly, so full of life that she almost puts the vibrancy of the murals to shame. They dull in comparison to this bright-eyed woman who lives in color and dances to the rhythm of the city.
Gregory Dickerson’s fierce lion fills the screen, as does a close-up shot of the wonder in my eyes as I lower my camera. Then comes the Starved Rock mural, the viral pizza mural, and so many others. Each video clip showcases yet another facet of my skill set, another taste of my personality. Julia’s edits are timed perfectly, and the video has a trendy, upbeat feel.
I don’t realize the tears leaking from my eyes until Amantha hands me a tissue. I swing to her, and am surprised her face is already mottled from crying.
Julia’s own eyes look shiny, and a proud smile quirks her lips.
“You like it?”
I shake my head, overcome with too many words and not enough breath. Julia looks alarmed, so I immediately redirect my head into a rapid nod. Giving up on explaining, I rush around the table to pull her into a hug that she returns. She smells like cinnamon and honey, a warm cup of tea for my soul.
This was exactly the reminder I needed.
That joy exists. ThatIexist, and that I matter.
And that regardless of who chooses to love me, I am still worthy of it.
“Thank you, Julia,” I whisper.
She squeezes me again before we sit back down. “You’re welcome. It’s the least I could do.” Julia smiles at me with so much kindness in her dark blue eyes, I begin crying again. “I’m grateful to have met you, Kate. You’ve shown me by example that it’s okay to be bold. To be fierce. To go after the things I want in life. In fact, I finally got brave enough to tell my boyfriend, Dallas, that Iwantto get engaged. You guys…” She leans closer, happiness misting her eyes. “I think he went ring shopping a few days ago.”
Amantha congratulates her while I press a hand to my heart, still trying to process so many compliments at once. But the pleasurable warmth in my chest is a welcome distraction, one that I pray will finally stick around.
It’s late afternoon when Julia gets ready to leave. Our bellies are full from ice cream, and my cheeks hurt from smiling. I didn’t expect to have formed such a deep relationship with Brandon’s childhood friend, but I’m so grateful I have. We walk Julia to Amantha’s front door, but Amantha stalls before opening it.
