“I’ll have the Faroe Island Salmon, please,” I tell the waitress, handing her my menu.
The conversation flows easily. Josh talks about his life, about his friends, and about Cherry Falls in a way that makes me feel like I’m finally becoming part of the community.
But then, Josh catches me off guard with a question.
“So, did you see the signup sheet for the Fall Festival in October? It’s up on the board now—figured I’d mention it while there’s still space.”
I glance up from my sandwich, chewing slowly. I hadn’t really thought about the festival yet. October feels far off, and while the event’s always packed, I’ve never been the type to jump into things like that.
“I don’t know, man,” I grunt back, noncommittal.
Josh gives me that look—the one where he already knows the answer and is just waiting for me to catch up. “Well, I know one person who already signed up—Millie. She’s got a booth planned. Baked goods and maybe a raffle. It’s for a fundraiser to help the station.”
That makes me pause.
Millie will be there?
Suddenly, the festival doesn’t sound so overwhelming. Crowds I can deal with. But her? She’s harder to ignore.
“I guess I’ll think about it,” I say, trying to play it cool. But the thought of seeing Millie again—being close enough to talk to her, maybe even help out—makes something in my chest tighten.
“So is the whole town usually involved?” I ask, half curious, half stalling.
Josh takes another bite of his sandwich and nods. “Yeah, pretty much. The Fall Festival is a big one—music, booths, hayrides, the whole thing. Always good turnout. Cherry Festival’s the bigger summer deal, but this one’s more community-focused. You should get in while there’s room—spots go fast.”
I nod slowly, but my mind’s somewhere else.
What kind of booth is she running exactly? Will she be there all day? Will she be alone?
Why do I care so damn much?
We finish lunch and head back to my place. Josh thanks me for tagging along today. Before he leaves, he bends down to get closer to Aura and kisses her on her head to say goodbye.
It hits me how rare it is to have a friend who genuinely likesbothme and my daughter. Not out of pity. Not because he has to. Just…because.
That night, I give Aura a bath, cuddle her until she’s half-asleep, then lay her in her crib.
As I sit in the quiet, I feel something I haven’t felt in a while. Homesick.
I open WhatsApp and message my two best friends from Italy. Not just for Italy, but for a time when things were simpler, when I wasn’t juggling so many roles.
Leonardo
Come va Fratello? Is something wrong? You never text this late.
Enzo
Nah, our boy probably just misses us.
Leonardo
Well? Which is it, Gabriele?
A small smile tugs at my lips. My family still calls me Gabriele. Everyone else calls me Gabriel. It’s a small thing, but it always makes me feel connected to home.
Me
Enzo is right. I got homesick and wanted to talk to someone who would fill the void.
