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“I knew it! You are so transparent, man.”
“I don’t want to talk about her, though.”
His fork goes clattering down onto the plate. “You say something like that, then follow it up with no deets? That’s BS, and you know it.”
“We’re friends. That’s all.”
“Since when do you have girls in your life who are just friends?”
Shaking my head, annoyed, I try to justify my position. “I’m not that bad. I never was, despite what you and the rumormongers chose to believe.”
“I’ve known you since you were five, Charlie. I’ve been in awe of your skills with the ladies since I was twelve. I also know that you’re no angel.”
“That, my friend, is in the past. That is part of the life I chose to leave behind because whether it was at the end of the day or the morning after, it didn’t change the feeling inside me that I didn’t want to live like that.”
Ignoring my answer, he redirects. “Back to this girl. She’s different?”
I feel my chest ache like I’m sharing a secret I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist doing so all the same. I nod as I take a big bite of eggs.
He leans back in the booth and sips his coffee while watching me. “You can stick with that nonverbal reply shit, but just so you know, it says more than your words ever would.” He laughs and puts a fifty-dollar bill on the table. “She must be some girl.”
He lets me off the hook, and we finish our breakfast in lighter conversation.
Out on the sidewalk, we stand in silence a minute before he raises his hand to hail a cab. “You want a ride?”
“No, I’m heading home.”
As the cab pulls to the curb, he asks, “So this girl . . . when do I get to meet her?”
“That seems to be the question of the day.” I shove my hands in my pockets and briefly wonder if I want to introduce her to him. He’s my friend and one I trust, but I kind of like keeping Charlie all to myself. “Maybe soon. I don’t know.” I shrug.
He laughs as he climbs into the back seat of the taxi. “All right. Well, you let me know, and in the meantime, baseball, Sunday at my place. Two o’clock. If you’re not busy with your girlfriend, that is.”
“I’ll be there.”
When he shuts the door, I turn and walk down the street in the opposite direction. He’s left me with a lot to think about—my old life and my new life—how much do I want them to overlap? I worry more about them colliding than overlapping. I don’t know how to prevent that from happening, but even in one of the largest cities in the world, I know it will.
First, I need to concern myself with my family’s dinner this weekend. I still can’t bear the thought of going, but maybe bringing Charlie, bringing someone on my side, is what I need to do.
I lean against a brick wall and dial her number.
“Hello,” she says. Her voice is sweet, happy.
“Hi.”
“What are you up to today? Writing?”
“I’m heading home now to start. I just had breakfast with one of my friends. So I was wondering about something, and you have every right to say no. I know it’s last minute and not the most thrilling thing to do on a Saturday night—”
“Wow, with a setup like that, how can a girl resist? I’m on the edge of my seat here, wondering what you could possibly ask me that won’t be the most thrilling thing to do on a Saturday night.”
I laugh because she makes these things easy, makes me comfortable. “It’s a family dinner. I mean, a dinner . . . at my family’s house.”
“Oh.” Her voice perks up.
“Well, it’s really the reading of my aunt’s will.”
“Oh.” She sounds more somber now.
“Dinner will follow.” I close my eyes and shake my head. “I know how ridiculous this is. I shouldn’t have ask—”
“Of course I’ll go. I want to be there for you if you want me.”
“Yeah? Yeah, I want you there, which is why I asked. I’ll understand if you think this is weird.”
“Truthfully, Charlie, it is kind of weird, but I think we got over weird when we went to the funerals together. So I’m in. What time?”
“I’ll pick you up around six.”
“Hey, before we hang up . . . about our Saturday ritual or what’s become of our ritual as of late.”
“Yes?”
“Well, since we’re doing the family-reading-of-the-will thing that evening, I guess we’ll be skipping said ritual, huh?” She sounds disappointed.
I’m disappointed by that thought, too. “What would you say if I still want to come over and, you know, continue the ritual?”
“I’d say I’d like that.”
“Maybe I can bring my clothes over and get ready at your place then?”
