Page 5 of All Our Almosts

With a hoarse voice and sore feet, I unlock the door to my apartment just before 2:00 AM. I moved in with Elliot about six months ago, and to be totally honest, it’s been fantastic. There is simply no way I could afford a place this nice on my own. We have: climate control, a dishwasher, and zero mice inside our unit.

(I have seen a few in the laundry room, but you can’t have everything.)

I take off my shoes and coat by the door and feel my phone vibrate with a text.

Lia: you home yet? are you ok?

Me: Yep got home safe and sound!

Lia: i mean are you ok after the bullshit at the bar today

Me: What? Are you mad at me?

Lia: no i’m talking about elliot. PLEASE tell me you had a fight with him when you got home

Me: He didn’t mean anything by it. He’s a goon.

I see an incoming call on my screen and seriously consider ignoring it, but let's be honest, I’m too afraid of her wrath. I hit accept.

“Lia—”

“Sophie, I know I have no right to interfere in your life, and I’ve dated my fair share of asshole men, but if my boyfriend said he didn’t date hot girls to my face after three years together, he would not be my boyfriend anymore. Period.”

“It’s seriously fine,” I say in my calmest tone as I head into the bedroom. “I knew what he meant.”

“Please enlighten me then,” she spits. And okay, drunk Lia is not gonna drop this.

“Look, it’s not like he called me ugly,” I say, more defensive than I mean to sound as I put her on speakerphone. “It’s really not a big deal. We had such a great night and now I’m tired and just want to get out of this dress and go to bed. Can we talk in the morning?”

“Is he even back yet?”

I toss my dress into the hamper and grab an oversized sleeping shirt from a drawer. “He cares about his job, and he doesn’t get to just turn it off. The schedule isn’t his choice.”

Lia exhales loudly into the phone. “No. No. I’m not coming off this Sophie, I’m not. I know you don’t want to hear it but you deserve better than all of this. I swear he’s getting worse.”

There’s a small—tiny—part of me that’s thinking about hanging up on her. I never would, but I’m so on edge right now that the temptation niggles in my mind.

Here’s the thing, Lia is an Aggressive Friend. Not just that she’s an aggressive person and she’s a friend—she’s aggressive at being a friend. The kind of person who will yell “I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND FUCK YOU FOR THINKING OTHERWISE!” The kind of person who showed up to freshman move-in day, saw me standing in our shared room, declared, “I’m so glad college comes with a live-in best friend,” and hugged me tight before she even knew my name. The kind of person who will always answer the phone at 1:00 AM, 2:00 AM, or 3:00 AM, but will tell me hard truths when she does.

“I know you don’t like him, Lia. You’ve told me. But I… we’re just…” I exhale, scavenging for a string of non-pathetic words. “I love him. And we work. It works. Really. You don’t know him like I do. We’re stable, and we want similar things. It’s good.” It sounds more like I’m convincing myself than convincing her, so I switch tactics. “And look, I don’t want to start over, especially not right now. I just want to focus on getting into grad school, and as soon as that happens you’re welcome to annoy me with this conversation again.”

A second of hesitation passes before Lia says, “Okay, Soph. I just want to say one more thing and then I won’t bother you until you’re officially a PhD candidate.”

I snort. “I doubt that, but okay.”

“I know you don’t want to think about more changes right now, but now could be the perfect time. This could be your year of fresh starts. And I know it’s scary to change everything at once, but you wouldn’t really. You’ll still be here. You’ll still have NASA, always. And I can speak on behalf of myself and the boys when I assure you we’ll gladly murder Elliot if that would help the situation.”

“I’ll think about it, okay?” I say, quieter than I mean too. “Good night, Lia. Love you.”

“Okay,” she says, resigned. “Love you. Sweet dreams.”

I do not, in fact, have sweet dreams.

2

When showing up somewhere uninvited, it’s common courtesy to plan your arrival for the least imposing moment possible.

I put a lot of thought into this—the time to arrive. And here’s my thinking: Andy is a creature of immaculate habit. Every Saturday morning he goes for a long run, though the length does vary. He sets his alarm for 7:30, so it’s fair to assume he eats some kind of breakfast then hits the pavement by 8:30, then factor in roughly two hours for a run. (Is that a reasonable time? I don’t really know. But I did Google it, and Reddit at large seems to think it is.) Then after the run he usually makes lunch and does meal prep things before making his work schedule for the coming week, and often even does a few hours of work, too.