There are extra pairs of shoes in my foyer. Heels higher than anything Amy would ever wear, two sets of sneakers, a worn pair of red high tops, and old Birkenstocks that can only belong to one person. I blink at them for a beat before I remember: Amy’s surprise.
“Chen?” I call.
From the living room he yells, “Chambers!”
Toeing my shoes off and throwing my bag down, I rush to the living room. Jeremy meets me in the hallway and grabs me by my shoulders, shaking me while simultaneously reeling me in for a back-slapper. My head spins as I’m engulfed. Amy had a cat in elementary school that she’d carry around the house. Her love for him sometimes overwhelmed her, to the point that she’d squeeze him, perhaps a little too hard. I feel like that cat, my eyes bulging, my rib cage constricted by this guy I’ve known almost as long as I’ve known my sister.
“How’s it going, man?” His voice is muffled as he speaks into my shoulder. Jeremy has always been an affectionate guy.
I pull away a little too fast. I can still smell the coconut on me, mixed with sweat and outdoors. Kissing her feels written on my skin for him to read. Her fingerprints the ink.
“Good. Busy.”
Jeremy smiles—because that’s what Jer does. I try to think of something to say. But the only words my brain can conjure are:
I JUST KISSED MY BOSS.
On repeat, brain static. In another time, that now feels like another life, that’s something I would have told him right away, before hellos were ever uttered. But not anymore.
Other than Amy, Jeremy is my closest friend. But right now, when he’s standing in front of me, he feels like a stranger. Something has changed. And it takes me this awkward silence to realize it’s me.
I’ve changed.
Jer’s smile fades. He puts his arm around my shoulder, nodding toward the living room. “Everyone’s here,” he says quietly. “They can’t wait to see you.”
We round the corner into the living room and a cheer goes up from my friends who have strewn themselves across the living room, watching a baseball game. Amy pops up from the couch. “I invited everyone over to celebrate not having to eat dinner with our father. There’s pizza in the kitchen. Surprise.”
She does jazz hands.
I shake my head. “I already ate,” I lie.
I’m not sure I can keep food down.
Amy rolls her eyes and lets out this little huff of annoyance. I clench my molars together and take a deep breath in through my nose.
“Can I speak to you?” I ask her. “In the kitchen?”
What I really want is to lie down on my bed and inspect what just happened between Corrine and me. I want to hold the moment in my hand and appraise it like a jeweller with a new diamond. I can still hear that sound she made when I kissed her.
But also...I just kissed my boss. My palms get clammy.
I am getting fucking fired tomorrow.
I cross the hall, not waiting for her reply. Amy follows me in with her plate in hand and starts loading up on slices, like she’d always meant to come in here anyway. My fingers find plastic cutlery to fiddle with. My chest feels tight from anxiety but so do my pants just thinking about Corrine. The combination feels like that awkward stage of puberty where an erection could pop up at any moment, leaving me feeling like a lightning rod with an anxiety disorder.
Plus, “arousal” is not a feeling I want to have in front of my sister, especially in baseball pants.
“A little warning would have been nice,” I say. “About this so-called surprise.”
Amy looks up from where she’s peeling tomato slices off her pizza.
“I did warn you.”
I close my eyes, rubbing the spot where my glasses rest on the bridge of my nose. The urge to flee is less of a pull and more of a push, a need. Sweat dots my brow and the back of my neck. I think I’ve just totally fucked up my life.
“Why do you need to be warned that our friends—who you haven’t seen in ages—are coming over?” she asks through her food. “I thought you’d be happy.”
She says it in this way she has. Like she’s done me a favor and I’m not grateful enough for it.
“What am I supposed to talk to them about, Amy?” I snap. “Our dead mom? Our shitty dad? My boss who—” I almost say, who hates me? But now I don’t know if that’s accurate or not. Or if it’s especially accurate.
My voice echoes in the kitchen and the murmuring from the other room has stopped. Great.
“Fuck,” I mutter and rub my hand down my face.
“I didn’t think you’d be this upset about reconnecting with some of our friends.”
To be honest I didn’t think I’d be this upset either. But knowing they’re all out there, probably waiting to ask me a whole bunch of questions about How I’ve been? and What’s new? only highlights how much of a failure I am. That I’m just starting an internship when they’ve been out working for two years.
That I might have just ruined everything because of a moment of misplaced attraction.
“I just...” I look away. “There’s too much between us. Too much space. And time.” I turn back to her. “You know?”
She shakes her head. Of course she doesn’t know. Everything has always been so much easier for Amy.
“I don’t think there’s as much space as you think.” Amy picks up her plate. “They care about you, Wesley. Give them a chance.”
I eat a piece of pizza alone in the kitchen, even though I’m not hungry. Just so I can tell Amy I did. It tastes like sawdust and oregano. I go back to the living room and lean against the couch. Jeremy gets up to stand beside me.
“So...” I say after moment. “What’s new?”
Trying to have a conversation with one of my oldest friends feels like the social equivalent of trying to make conversation during a prostate exam.
“Not much.” Jeremy scratches his chin. “I’m starting law school in the fall.”
“Dude, that’s great.”
Jer and I played on the same baseball team in high school and went to the same university. He’s wanted to be a lawyer since he was fifteen. He’s the least argumentative person I know. He’s just really good at remembering facts.
“Where’s Angie?” I ask.
He winces. “We...uhhh...we’re ‘on a break,’” he says with finger quotes.
I flush, staring into the TV screen so he doesn’t see how embarrassed I am that I missed something so big in my friend’s life. Yet he’s still here, wanting to be my friend, despite my abandonment. I want to reel him in for his own eye-bulging hug. But I settle for, “Oh. Sorry.”
He shrugs and we both fall silent again. Our friends chat around us but there’s a stilted air to it all. Amy, usually the loudest person in any room, is strangely quiet. Jeremy shifts on his feet beside me.
I became a little reclusive after our mom got really sick, but our friends didn’t do much to close the gap. And I get it. Dealing with sickness and death is never fun. Especially when you’ve just finished college and are ready to start a life of your own. But now there’s this gap between us all that becomes a chasm as the awkward silence stretches.
“Listen,” Jeremy says, quietly. “I know we haven’t seen much of each other the last year...”
Jeremy studies his hands for a moment. “I’m really sorry about Laura. I miss her.” He smiles at me. “I miss you, too,” he says quietly.
I glance down at the back of Amy’s dark head. She hasn’t turned around but I know she’s listening. The thing is, no, my friends didn’t do much to close the gap, but a phone works two ways. I could have called. I could have texted.
Jeremy would have come over and sat with me on the couch while my mom napped. He would have joined me while I waited for her in a doctor’s office waiting room. My mom loved Jeremy. He would have made her laugh until she cried.
Jeremy would have sat with me while I cried after she was gone. He would have come over and played endless hours of video games with me while I tried to deal with my grief.
He would have commiserated with me when I wanted to vent about Ms. Blunt.
I just never gave him the chance.
“Dang.” Amy pops up over the back of the couch. “I should have bought some pizza pockets.”
Jeremy laughs. “Yes. Laura was always good for a pocket.”
Everyone makes a noise of agreement and turns back to their conversations.
I elbow Jeremy. “I miss you, too...man,” I say.
Jeremy pretends to wipe away a tear. “Don’t be a stranger, Chambers.”
I won’t, I promise myself.
“What are you guys doing for your birthday?” Rebecca, the owner of the high heels, asks.
I hadn’t even thought about our birthday. The idea of celebrating my twenty-fifth birthday without my mom singing a terribly off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday,” the homemade cake a tiny bonfire with all twenty-five candles blazing, brings a sudden sting to my eyes.
“Dinner. All of us. Then drinks. This Friday.” Amy rattles off the birthday plans like we’ve had them for months.
I open my mouth to say no but close it again when she turns to me.
“You’d better leave work this time.”