Haven stood at the breakfast bar, balancing on one leg while her foot rested on her thigh.
“Doomed might be a strong word. Challenged, maybe,” she said in a calm tone. She sipped green juice through a metal straw.
“You’re on his side?” I raised a brow. Haven was Ms. Optimism. In her world, everything had a divine purpose. She loved meaning and would insist nothing happened by accident. Everything in the universe was unfolding for your good…ifyour karma was good.
“I’m not on anyone’s side.” She insisted as she tugged her sisterlocks into a ponytail. Haven’s dark brown skin glowed with the shimmery highlight placed carefully on her high cheekbones and the wide bridge of her nose. The bracelets on her wrist jangled like morning bells. Between the comforting scented oil she wore, beautifully glowing skin, and noisy jewelry, it was impossible not to know when she was around.
“I’m just considering his viewpoint. You know, like you say, people should.” She gave me a teasing smile.
I scoffed and grabbed my favorite mug. As the coffee machine hummed, I got a protein bar from the pantry to toss into my bag.
“David sees the world with a lot of sharp edges,” Haven said.
“And whose fault is that?”
“Circumstances?” She shrugged. “All I’m saying is that it’s difficult—and sometimes not even natural — for someone to look on the bright side.”
I frowned. “I know that.”
“Really? You seem to ignore the possibility. You struggle to extend grace to him — and him only. It makes me wonder…”
“Haven, don’t. Just because you were a psych major for a semester doesn’t mean you know how to analyze a person’s actions properly. Not even professionals can do that.”
“Maybe you see yourself in him?” She continued, ignoring my plea.
“Please, can we have one conversation where you’re petty like me?” I groaned and stretched across the island to grab her hand, squeezing to emphasize my desperation. Placing myhand over hers reminded me that I kept forgetting to make her ten-step skincare routine a daily practice. My warm brown skin could use a bit of her dewy glow and cloud-like softness.
“Petty ranting is so, so fun. I promise you’ll love it.” I pulled away to grab the hand lotion in my bag. Being Ms. Go, go, go, didn’t mean I had to live a life of dry knuckles.
Haven laughed. “I’m sure it is. But bringing you back to earth is even more fun.”
I sighed. The coffee machine clicked, so I turned my attention to something that would go my way this morning. “Fine, whatever. I’m over it.”
“Really?”
“For sure.” I watched the coffee drip into my cup, its color a perfect creamy brown.
“You’re outlining a five-page opposition essay in your head, aren’t you?”
I chewed on my lip, ready to deny. Despite only knowing each other since freshman year orientation, Haven and I had become experts at understanding one another’s tells.
“Ten-page, actually.” I joined her at the island, sitting instead of standing because morning kitchen yoga had never and would never appeal to me.
“But I’m stopping now. The days of letting David Evans make me out to be some raging, argumentative know-it-all are in the past.”
“Very recent past,” Haven murmured with a smile.
“Besides, I have to be on my best behavior. I represent something bigger.”
“Hope?” Haven asked.
“Even better.” I pulled out my phone and opened the BWD sign-up form. “Check this out. Here’s this year’s executive board sign-ups.”
Haven whistled, impressed.
“Not exactly overflowing so that we’d have to hold a vote with non-board members,” I said, shoulders sagging a bit.
“Oh, how you love your politics.” Haven laughed.
