"I was worried about you," Ravita says. "I know you were dealing with something and you didn't want to talk about it, but I was worried. And I didn't know how to push without pushing too hard, so I just stopped pushing at all, and then we weren't having lunch anymore, and then we weren't friends in the way we used to be."
"I'm sorry."
"You should be. But you're back. So we're fine." She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand once. "Just don't disappear like that again. Okay?"
"Okay," I say. "I won't."
Ravita grins. She points at her salad. "Now eat. You look like you haven't been eating properly."
That evening. I pull up the group chat after work. A new Riley practice video. She's posted it an hour ago. I watch it on the train home, earbuds in, the city flowing past the window.
I open my notes. I start to write:Riley's incorporating what looks like a modified moeller technique for the bass drum footwork, which is unusual for drumming in this genre. The mechanics suggest she's been working with a new teacher or focusing on cross-discipline training.
Then I stop.
Riley Puth is still the best drummer I know. She's just not the centre of the universe anymore.
I delete the half-written post and close the app. But the appreciation remains. The fondness stays. That's more than enough.
On Wednesday evening I call Rhonda. She's back from the cottage.
"I've been thinking about what you said." she tells me.
"Okay."
" I watched Sandy and Erica on the porch. Just standing there being normal and happy. And I thought: that's what I want with you.”
"That's what I've been saying."
"I know. I wasn't listening. " She pauses. I can hear her breathing. "But I don't know how to do it."
"What do you mean?"
" I don't know how to just—be with you in front of people."
"You just do it," I say. "You walk with me, hold my hand and just ignore everyone."
"What if they?—"
"What if they what? Judge you? They're judging someone they think doesn't exist."
“Okay.” Rhonda lets out a breath.
“So there’s going to be a party in a few days,” she says. “We’re going to have a launch party at Sandy and Erica’s.”
“I know,” I say. “My sister already invited me.”
A pause. “Oh.”
“Mm-hm.” I let her sit with it, enjoying myself a little. “So I’ll be there in the same room as you. Whatever will you do?”
“That’s the thing.” The bravado goes out of her voice. “I don’t know how to do it. Be with you in front of everyone. I’ve spent a year making sure nobody could see it. I don’t know how to just—stand next to you.”
“You just stand next to me,” I say, gentler now. “You hold my hand. You let people see. It isn’t a skill, Rhonda. It’s a decision you make over and over.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It’s the hardest easy thing in the world.”
