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The table felt very empty without the others there. It left me alone with Hazel. It made me happy. I was never happier than when I spent time with Hazel.
For the past five years, we’d lived together. It was strange to think my friend had grown up and would soon be moving on to the next stage of her life. A husband, her own house, then kids, a dog…
Responsibilities.
I would live in our shared apartment until the lease ran out in three months. Then I would have to downsize. There was no way in this world I could afford to buy a place on my own.
And that’s what I always was. Alone.
Hazel had already moved her stuff out of our apartment to go live with Tom. Sometimes I found myself standing at the door of her bedroom, staring at where she had once slept.
“What are you thinking about?” Hazel said.
“Huh?” I said, snapping back to reality. “Oh. Nothing.”
I didn’t want to ruin her special day. I rubbed the heart-shaped locket on my bracelet. I did it so often over the years, it’d turned smooth.
Hazel glanced at the locket. “Thinking about your parents?”
“What?” I said, releasing the locket. “No.”
“You seem very quiet,” Hazel said.
“I’m just thinking about old times,” I said.
She leaned forward and balanced her chin on the palms of her hands. “Which old times?”
“All of them.”
The six of us grew up close, more like sisters than friends. Growing up could be hard. These guys gave me the love and support I needed. I guess we did that for each other.
I was really happy for Hazel. She’d found someone to love. Although, in all honesty, I never thought Tom would be the man she’d end up settling down with. He always seemed a little… dry. Whereas she was always full of energy. But I guess sometimes opposites attract.
I glanced at the party girls—Bianca and Sirena—on the dance floor. They bucked and writhed, each trying to outdo the other in the sexiness stakes. They moved like professional dancers without their poles. They made eyes at a nearby table with hot guys watching appreciatively.
I’m sure they wouldn’t mind providing a pole to dance with…
Hazel took my hand in hers. “We’re going to keep in touch, you know. I mean, I’ll only be three blocks away. We can still have our late-night movie marathons.”
She knew me so well. “I know.”
“I won’t be a ball and chain around your ankle anymore,” Hazel said. “Now you’re free to go and do whatever you want. How about those adventures you talk about? All those exciting trips you wanted to take? Maybe now’s the time to take them.”
I was a writer, trapped in my head. I went on adventures every day of the week. I lived them vicariously. I wrote about far-off places, daring swashbucklers, and maidens in distress. And, of course, a little of my patent steamy love scenes thrown in for good measure. My readers loved it, and I enjoyed writing it. But living it? Did I want to turn fiction into fact?
“You were never a ball and chain to me,” I said. “You were the one to encourage me to start writing in the first place.”
“Then why do you look so sad?”
I felt the waterworks behind my eyes. I fiddled with a damp tissue. “I guess I’m a little sad about losing you. All you guys are going to find husbands and have kids. I’ll be left alone.”
“That’s not true. I doubt Victoria will find a guy who’ll fall in love with her flatulence problem.”
I chuckled and dabbed at my eyes.
Hazel leaned in close. “But you know, it’s not exactly alchemy. Nobody knows they’re going to fall in love. It just sort of happens. And the only way for that to happen is to get out from your dank hole—”
“Hey! That’s my creative writing space you’re talking about!”
