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“You know, when I was a kid I couldn’t wait to be an adult and have the freedom to do whatever I wanted.”
“And now that you’re an adult, you wish you could go back to being a kid without a care in the world.”
She lets out a soft chuckle. “Sometimes, yeah. Is that crazy?”
“Nah, I think that’s normal.”
She’s silent for a few minutes, and I watch the movie, waiting for her to respond but also not feeling the need to fill the silence. There’s something companionable and relaxing about just sitting on the phone with her like this. Sharing an experience even if we’re not together.
“Trent,” she says, her voice low and tentative.
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever think about your mom?”
I sit up in bed, my body tensing without my control as I’m thrown back into a slew of memories that some days I wish I could wipe from my mind altogether.
“Sometimes,” I respond, my voice now matching hers. “It’s hard to think about her.”
“Because of how she died?”
A heavy breath escapes my lungs at the same time that my chest tightens. “Yeah, that and just a lot of shit that went down before my aunt and uncle stepped in. I don’t think they knew how bad it was until CPS got involved. It’s not something I like to think about.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up like this. I just…”
I wait for her to finish her sentence, but when she doesn’t I prompt, “Just what?”
“I think about my dad sometimes. Wondering how things would’ve been different if he’d stayed and why we weren’t enough for him.” The crack in her voice is the only hint of the emotion buried deep inside.
“Have you ever thought of finding him?”
Her breath filters through the phone, and I suddenly wish we were lying next to each other talking about this, though I know that we’d probably never have this conversation if it wasn’t for the protection of night and distance.
“Yeah. I’ve never really admitted that to anyone. I tried once. I found an address that belonged to him in Arizona, but I didn’t have the guts to actually fly out there, so I sent a letter. He never responded to it.”
“He’s an idiot.”
“I guess. I know you don’t like to talk or think about her, but do you think you’d be different if she’d lived? If she’d gotten clean and stuck around for you?”
“I don’t know.”
“There are some nights where I can’t stop thinking about how different I would be if he’d stayed. If I’d grown up with my dad around instead of constantly wondering why I wasn’t enough.”
“You are enough, Becka. You always have been. He’s just a stupid fuck who didn’t know what a good thing he had when it was right in front of his face.”
She’s quiet for a while, and I don’t fill the lull, instead just letting the movie play while we sit in silence on the phone.
“Thanks, Trent. I’ve really missed you. More than I realized.”
“Same, Becks. More than you know.”
A beat goes by before she says, “Do you agree with Harry?”
“Huh?”
“That men and women can’t be friends.”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. My impulse answer is to say yes, I agree, but then what does that mean for me and Becks? I need her friendship. She’s become a bright light in my life in only a week, and that’s not something I’m willing to lose or even take for granted. Unlike her dad, I know exactly what I have in her friendship. She’s more valuable to me than gold. I can’t go back to feeling the way I did before I ran into her on the street—lost and so much lonelier than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.
