To stop myself from watching the screen of my phone, I rifle in my purse for a piece of gum. I’ve just popped it into my mouth when my phone rings. I answer it before it rings twice. “Oh, thank God you were free,” I say.
“Well, well, well. Now youneedme, you remember I exist.” She shouts the last sentence and I turn the volume down on my phone.
“I’m sorry, Dins.” I use the nickname her family uses to remind her that she loves me. “I’m a bum.”
She snorts a laugh. “Yeah, you are. But you’re my bum, so I forgive you. What’s up?”
“I’ve been in a weird place since this move.”
“You can’t outrun a problem when the problem is you.”
“Kicking your girl when she’s down isn’t nice, Ediri,” I whine.
“I don’t want you to get too comfortable being down, Sin. Youdeserve to feel good about your life.”
I groan. “I know. I’m figuring things out and trying to get there again.”
“By writing an advice column forThe Spectator?”
Self-pity momentarily forgotten, I bristle. “Why are you saying it like I work in a crack house?”
She sighs. “I just…I don’t understand why you quit your dream job to write…fluff, Sin.”
“It wasn’t my dream job. And this isn’t fluff. It’s…” I trail off unsure how to finish my sentence.
She lets out a long sigh, her voice softer when she speaks again. “You have all those awards. You were on one track, then all of a sudden, you made a U-turn. I’m glad Stephen is behind you, and if this is really where you want to be, I just hope youreallyknow what you’re doing.”
“I do.” I speak with a confidence that’s nowhere near true. Desperate to move away from this topic, I steer us toward the smaller of the icebergs littering the sea of my life.
“I texted because despite everything I said about not wanting anything with anyone, I think I have feelings for Kwame.” I’d told her about the reunion with him when it happened.
The silence that follows my confession stretches so long I check the screen to be sure we’re still connected. We are. I put the phone back to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Sorry. I have died and am speaking to you from the beyond.”
I laugh at her dramatics. “Come on.”
“No, you come on. I’ve been team Sin and Kwame since you told me about him.”
“There is no Team Sin and Kwame,” I insist and ignore the way regret wraps itself around my heart.
She giggles. “There could be if you’d let it. I think he sounds like everything you deserve.”
“Funny how you’ve never expressed any of this before now.”
“Because I know how you are,” she retorts.
I snort in affront. “How I am?”
She sighs. “Sin, theminuteI’d suggested it you would have found a million reasons why it would never work. And honestly, I’m not sure I’m convinced it would either.”
My heart kicks against my chest. “What? Why not?”
“Because you seem adrift. Working a dead-end job and keepingsecrets from your family.”
“I’m allowed to keep things to myself,” I snap. But there’s a truth in her assessment that stings. “And it’s not a dead-end job. It’s ameansto an end.”
