Bri hums, “No problem,” while shoving the milky goodness into her mouth. She has priorities.
She sits beside me on the wall, facing me, folding one leg on top while the other dangles off the side. I mimic her position, my knee resting against hers, giving me the same comfort as if she were holding my hand again. This way will be less sticky.
“I don’t know why I agreed to this,” I say.
“Because it’s alittleharder to be sad while eating ice cream?”
That’s true. Though sitting next to the human version of sunshine helps more. “No, I mean I’m lactose intolerant.”
“So am I, but why let that stop me?” She takes a generous lick from her cone. Spotting something beside her, she grins. “You look amazing in that dress,” Bri compliments a woman passing by, taking her by surprise as well. “That color is perfection on your skin.”
“Oh my god, thank you! It’s from a boutique on Fifth!”
“Well, they need to pull it from the shelves because it was made foryou.”
The woman leaves with a smile beaming from her face. Bri looks like she asked for the time rather than making a stranger’s entire day.
People like her are enigmas. It’s not thenicepeople. Anyone can pretend to be nice for a while. It’s thekindpeople. Those who give out light whenever darkness is around, not because it feels good to them or because it’s the social expectation. It simply occurs to them that they can help, so they do.
“How are you so happy?” I ask, still mesmerized.
“I’m happy?”
“Maybe nothappy, but bright and sunny. I’m still wanting to scream and cry, and you’re acting like it’s just another day.”
With a smirk, she says, “I lost my mom as a teenager. I’m prettysure I’ll survive a boy not liking me.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”
“That wasn’t to get sympathy,” she says. “My superpower is cutting people off. When I love, I love hard. When I’m done, I’mdone. David is dead to me. It’smyshit that I’m struggling with.”
“Like what?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“More or less embarrassing than how we met?”
She acknowledges my point with a laugh. “It’s . . . life. David was making a lot more than me and was paying most of the bills. Without him or without a better job, I’m not in a great place.” If I hadn’t spent the weekend crying with her, I wouldn’t recognize the way she avoids my eyes when she doesn’t want to see pity. “I thought I would have my shit together by now, and it’s like I’m stuck in the same place I was five years ago.”
“You don’t have your shit together?” I ask incredulously. “You know who you are, what you need to be okay, how to pick yourself up a second after someone knocks you down and shove them right back. If that’s not what having your shit together looks like, what is?”
“How can you even say that? With all your degrees and your financial stability.”
“That’s what I’m saying. I did everything ‘right,’ and I’m not any better for it. My relationship wasn’t real, and I’ve worked my life away in the same office for years, never making friendships that exist outside of those walls. I don’t even know what I want in life. Like, who am I?”
“You have plenty of time to figure that out. You’re a baby.”
“A baby? I’m twenty-six.”
“That’s still a baby. I turn thirty in six months.”
“I get along better with people older than me. Natalie is thirty-five.” Bri fails to hide the look on her face. “What?”
“That’s almost a decade older than you.”
“Yes, I can do math.”
“How did you two even meet?”
