Before Alix could either confirm or deny, Phyllis, suddenly awake, propped herself up. “Who’s this beautiful and charming woman?”
Connie grinned. “You must be the saint living with Alix’s sad tofu dishes.”
Alix could hear Grace sighing somewhere off-screen.
Phyllis countered, “I prefer the term martyr, actually.”
The phone turned back to Grace, who looked half mortified, half amused.
Somehow, in the exchange, Connie decided to teach Alix how to make Cuban black beans right there over FaceTime. Alix grabbed spices from the cupboard; Phyllis brought her reading glasses and a highlighter. Connie barked out instructions while Phyllis argued about the proper garlic ratio.
“Garlic’s not measured in cloves,” Connie said. “It’s measured with your heart.”
“I’m writing that down,” Phyllis said. “You’re a poet.”
Grace sighed into the phone. “I’ve lost control of this call.”
By the time Connie finished lecturing about bay leaves, Phyllis had claimed a pen pal. “Add me on Facebook,” she said.
“I’ll send you my mojo dip recipe, too,” Connie promised. “We’ll keep this girl fed.”
Alix beamed. “I love this for me.”
After the call ended, Phyllis looked at her over the shopping list they’d prepared for their future attempt at Cuban black beans. “She’s gorgeous. Her mother likes you. When’s the wedding?”
Alix’s throat tightened. “We’re just friends. She’s… important to me.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Phyllis said wistfully, patting her arm.
The next time Alix went to The Hollow, Christmas lights tangled above the bar and the air outside had turned sharp with mid-December chill. She nursed a cider, letting the hum of conversation wrap around her. She thought about Colorado — about her critical mom, her quiet dad, her brother who still lived in the basement, the horse stable that smelled like hay and cold metal.
She pictured taking Grace up the ridge behind the barn, the one the neighborhood kids used like a sled track when the snow cooperated. They could go at night. The sky would be clear. They could stand on the top and she could point out the lights of Fort Collins, small and far, and sayThis is where I learned to want more and to feel bad about wanting it.
She could hand Grace a flask of whatever her dad kept in the garage, and Grace could pretend it was delicious. She could show her where the barbed wire fence had caught the back of her leg the first time she climbed it, and she could laugh at how clumsy she had been. She could tell her the truth. About how her mom said “Alexandra” like an anchor, and how Alix was a raft she built with her own hands. The imperfect, unvarnished truth of where she came from.
She opened her phone.
Alix
So, hypothetically, how cold are you willing to get?
Grace
Hypothetically, I can handle snow. Can you handle my mom texting you about beans forever?
The wordforeverlanded easy and steady in Alix’s chest. Surely Grace didn’t mean forever in the same way Alix wanted, though, so she marched right past her feelings yet again.
Alix
You think adding Connie and Phyllis to a group chat together would be the best or the worst?
Grace
I’m too nervous to give them unsupervised access to each other. Think of the world domination.
Alix
That’s fair.
