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“Like I said, not my business.”
“Like I said, maybe you should make it your business.”
“Don’t be crazy, Ali.”
“Whatever. It’s your life.”
“Why are you pressing this?” I want to know.
“I think you might be missing a few things is all,” Ali replies.
“Such as?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember the last time a friend stayed to take care of me when I had the flu.”
“It just worked out that way,” I tell her. “Brooklyn is like that. She’s generous and sweet.”
“Yeah, she is. I don’t recall her staying at Jack’s when he’s been sick, and they’ve been friends for six years. And, Carter? When was the last time you invited anyone other than me to a family holiday?”
“It just—”
“Worked out that way. I know. You keep telling yourself that. I’ve known you a long time. I’ve seen you in love before. I know the signs.”
“Look, Brooklyn and I are at totally different points in life.”
“But you love her.”
Fuck it. “Yes, I do. Are you happy now?”
“Why don’t you tell her how you feel?”
I do not want to have this conversation. I love Ali, but she’s pressing her luck today.
“She’s not Deb,” Ali says.
Ali’s words are a knife in my back. No, Brooklyn isn’t Deb. I fell in love with Deb Michaelson my freshman year at college. She was my one true love—my one great love. I fell fast, and I fell hard. She was also one of my closest friends. I waited four years to tell her how I felt. She already knew. Everyone knew. It’s the heart on the sleeve thing. She said she loved me. I believe she did. But her world wasn’t built for a relationship with me. She’d mapped out her future in the eighth grade—something she wasn’t shy about sharing. A relationship with me didn’t fit into her ideal world, even if she did love me—even if she wanted me. Ali thinks I never got over her. I’ll always love her. I’m not in love with her anymore. But Ali’s on the right track. Deb and I shared a friendship I cherished. I lost that friendship when I made the decision to profess my feelings. I don’t want to do that with Brooklyn.
“She’s not Rachel either,” Ali tells me.
“No. She’s not,” I agree. I don’t see Brooklyn moving to Paris anytime soon. “I’m not the one comparing Brooklyn to people in my past.”
“No? Are you sure about that?”
“Ali, please. I’m not comparing Brooklyn to anyone.” I’m not. There’s no comparison to make.
“Whatareyou doing?” Ali asks me.
“Ali, I’ve been down this road a few times, okay? Brooklyn isn’t going to be in my life every day or even every week now that she’s done working with me.”
“She’s still part of your life.”
“She’s a friend, Ali. How I feel about her doesn’t change the context of our relationship. I’m trying to let it go. I can’t do that with you telling me to hang on.”
Ali takes a deep breath and holds it for a minute. She exhales dramatically. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll let it go,” Ali promises. “Just do me one favor?”
