Page 107 of Wayfarers

“No desire to reconcile?”

“There’s not really any reconciling to be done. It’s not a matter of desire.”

“But you guys were friends for a long time.”

“You really want to explore this.”

“Well, I feel kinda weird now. Like here I am, in his place.”

“Not in his place,” Sylvie says quickly.

“Okay. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She presses her lips together.

“You miss him?”

“I agreed to make a noncommittal sound and tell you my secret, not go on Hot Ones over it.”

“Hot Ones?”

“It’s this show on YouTube where a dude interviews famous people while they eat increasingly spicy chicken wings.”

“That sounds profoundly entertaining.”

“It is. Like their noses are running and they can barely talk by the end.”

“Can we watch some tonight?”

“Sure. Anyway, that’s the thing I don’t want to be talking about.”

“You sure you don’t want to hit another Starbucks and get some chicken wings?”

“God, could you imagine if Starbucks had chicken wings? They’d be seasoned with like chai spice or something. Wait, you’ve tasted chai, right? My joke sorta doesn’t work if not.”

“Yes,” I say between belly laughs. “And chicken wings, even. And I have to tell you that while your joke is very good, I’m not sure chai-seasoned chicken wings would be terrible. I’ve definitely eaten worse.”

“You are officially now the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”

“Officially? Is there some certifying body of weirdness?”

“I’m the certifying body.”

“I’ve heard of a beach body, but this is ridiculous.”

“You’re not beating the weirdness allegations here, Knox.”

We drive on for a bit in silence.

“So were you and him ever more than friends?” I ask finally. I know I might be picking at a scab but I can’t help it. I keep trying to envision this mythical Cal, he whose name is worthy of utterance even deep in slumber.

“Me and Cal?”

“No, you and the guy from Hot Ones.”

“I wondered because I thought we’d moved on.”

“I’m just curious.”