I smile, happy to be known. “Idomiss you, but it’s hard for me to forget what happened. You’re right: In a lot of ways, this summer has truly sucked.”
She’s still wearing my sunglasses. A tear falls from beneath them. “I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want. I’ll give you space if that’s what you need. If it’s up to me, though, I’d like to earn back your friendship.”
Since fourth grade, Gabi’s been like a sister to me. More so, a lot of times, than my actual sister. Our history supersedes arguments and mistakes—even massive, foundation-shattering mistakes. We’ve argued, we’ve forgiven, and we’re stronger for it.
“Can we start with breakfast tomorrow morning?” I ask.
She smiles, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “Definitely.”
Henry
Nearly a week has passed since Piper and I last hung out. Walking to her place has been a serious temptation since I finishedCoralCrown, but there’s a wall between us, one I can’t figure out how to breach.
It seems like the longer I spend away from her, the weaker the draw should be.
In reality, the distance makes me want her more.
Late Thursday afternoon I’m hungry, and there’s nothing to eat in the apartment. Dad’s at Blitz Brews, so I head over to take advantage of the free food. I snag my usual spot at the bar because Mateo’s working and it’s been a while since we last caught up. He’s got a crowd to deal with, but he keeps the sodas coming and makes sure I have plenty of tartar sauce for the huge plate of fries Dad brought out when I showed up.
Mateo pulled him an IPA. The now-empty glass sits behind the bar.
When things slow down, Mateo tells me he’s taken April, one of the hostesses, out a few times. “It’s a whole new world,” he says, retying his apron. “Being with Lana was a shit show. April’s so chill. A lot of fun.” He swipes a cloth across the bar. “What’ve you got going on in the romance department? I’ve seen you in here with a cute brunette a few times.”
“That’s Piper,” I say.
“She your girl?”
“I guess.” I’d feel weird calling hermineunder the best circumstances because my mother raised me to respect women and their autonomy, but if that’s the explanation that makes sense to Mateo, I’ll roll with it.
“Where’s she now?”
“Home, I think. We’re in a weird place. You know how it goes.”
“Do I ever,” he says, offering me a fist bump of commiseration. “Work it out, bro, if you want to be with her.”
I do—about that, I’m sure. What I can’t get straight is whether Ishouldbe with her. I keep asking myself: Will things be different with Piper? Or will it end in disaster, like Whit and me?
“You’re thinking too hard,” Mateo says, sliding another soda in front of me.
“Yeah, overanalyzing is kind of my thing.”
“There are worse ways to be.” He glances across the restaurant to where my dad’s laughing raucously with a bunch of customers. They’ve got a half dozen pitchers of beer spread across their table, and Dad’s topping off glasses, offering loud commentary on the Marlins game most of the TVs are broadcasting.
Thanks to a recent Google search, I now know what a functioning alcoholic is.
Pretty sure I’m living with one.
Dad’s acquired a fresh glass. He fills it with beer, foam sloshing over the brim and onto his patrons’ table. They don’t notice or don’t care. He joins their toast, shouting “Cheers!” so loudly that his voice rises above everyone else’s. He throws back the beer—not quite a chug, but not the civilized sip of a proprietor, either.
“He’s somethin’,” Mateo says, looking dubiously at Dad. “He can really sock ’em back, especially lately.”
“Yeah. I’ve noticed.”
He goes back to work, shaking his head. I pick up my phone, ready to text Piper. Ready to apologize for my part in our argument. Ready to beg for guidance on what the fuck I should do about my dad.
I really want to hear her voice.
A text comes through.
