He does as I ask, holding my hands. I love the way they feel. They’re the perfect blend of hard and soft. Strong from his time in the gym, yet well-kempt and clean like the man raised by women he is.
“You’ve had a long week working your big-boy job making the big-boy deals and getting the big-boy dollars. Now you have a day to yourself and you go outside. What are you doing first?”
He takes a slow inhale, then answers, “Milk tea.”
That’s not something to do, but food as the first stop is relatable as hell. “Nice. What else?”
“Hokkaido, full sweetness, with boba, and—”
“Events, babe. You are going to get boba from your favorite shop. What are you doing next?”
He hums as he ponders. “When I have free time? Reading.”
“Where?”
“By a window somewhere, listening to the rain. Or in a park in the sunshine, like now.”
“Beautiful. And what else? You have the whole night ahead of you.”
“A movie. Then drinks.”
“Where?”
“A low-key place like a café. One of those old-school cigar lounge-looking places with wine or bougie cocktails.”
“If you love it, I love it.” I let go of his hands, and he opens his eyes. “You should do one or all those. Invite people to go with you, try to talk to people while you’re there, and if that doesn’t work, you’ll have a great night anyway.”
He shrugs. “I guess so.”
“I know so. People will love you if you give them a chance. And it can’t hurt to show yourself some love in the process.”
His eyes drift over me, warming me more than the sunshine. He’s practically my twin, but if he’s thinking what I am, I’d be shocked. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
~
We make it back to the apartment, and even though I’m worn out, I’m in a better mood than before. Spending quality time with Liem aways keeps me in the present and calms my anxiety about the future. Brooklyn is where time can stop for a while.
“I was thinking about making the mac and cheese tonight, if that won’t be too much for you.”
“Too much of what? Happiness?”
He chuckles. “Lactose. Cramps, if your stomach is already hurting.”
“You can’t dangle something that delicious in front of me andexpect self-control,” I say. The double entendre is accidental, I swear. “I want it.”
“But can you take it?”
I may have lost track of the metaphor. “Oh, I can take it.”
On the apartment’s doorstep stand two women, one with a round crown of kinky curls, the other a modish, asymmetrical bob. They remind me of Keisha and Junie, then remind me how much I miss them, even though I don’t necessarily miss home.
Liem has the same thought. “They look like your friends.”
We walk closer, and the two turn our way. I almost fall over. Theyaremy friends.
Twelve
