Page 18 of My Own Kind of Person

Andi groans their way into the back seat. I hold out a buttered roll and they shake their head.

“I’m vegan.”

“You are?”

“I’ve told you this like a hundred times.” They cough. “How are you, Tony?”

He grins. “Incredible! You?”

“Yeah.” Andi points to the glove compartment. “Can you take out the fourth CD from the left?”

Tony pops the glove compartment open to reveal the Official Andi Lucero Mix Library. Last October Andi gave me the first, Autumn Sweater. They made fun of the title they’d chosen, but the slipcase was carefully constructed from handmade paper and duct tape. There was no pretending it hadn’t taken time and care. My car doesn’t have Bluetooth or an auxiliary input, but it does have a functioning CD player.

The mix Andi has instructed Tony to play is called Unsatisfied and it is very loud. Andi pulls their hood up and leans back peacefully as though we’re listening to soothing ocean noises, and I drive away.

“Permission to be sincere?” I request.

“Permission granted,” Tony replies.

Andi is silent.

“What’s something from your recent life that made you see the world differently?”

Tony bounces. “I drank two full glasses of water before bed last night and I didn’t wake up to pee once.”

I hold out a fist to bump. “A hydrated prince!”

“I’ve been doing Kegels,” he announces.

We pull up to a red light and Andi coughs again, then asks, “Why are you in such a good mood? Did something happen with Christy?”

“To clarify,” Tony says, “I didn’t pee the bed either.”

“No,” I say to Andi. “Kaye got a parking spot, so she’s gonna drive her in the mornings.”

“I mean, did something happen with Christy to put you in a good mood?”

“Am I not normally in a good mood?”

“You have dimples on your cheeks.”

“Dimples!” I smile. “Me and Christy are baking pignolis Friday night?”

“The supreme leader of Italian cookies,” Tony says, then holds up a finger. “For the record, I prefer pizzelles.”

Andi says nothing the rest of the drive. Is there more I could say? There is. So why am I not saying it?

We pull into a parking space and I reach into the back seat to grab my backpack.

“Permission to be whatever,” Andi says, taking their hood off. “What’s the thing that made you see the world differently?”

I put my backpack on my lap and I take a breath.

I want to tell Andi and Tony that yesterday I learned I can share a non-funny truth and it will be heard and accepted.

“Yesterday…”

I want to tell them that yesterday I learned I am already okay.