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“Do you not have reception down there?”
“Yeah, sorry. I’m kind of at a funeral right now.”
“A what?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. What’s going on?”
“I need to talk to you. It’s really important,” she says. Uh-oh.
“Okay, what is it?” I find a wooden column to lean against and brace myself.
“I got a promotion.” A promotion? That should be good news. Why is she saying it with an I have terminal cancer tone?
On the off chance I’m reading this whole thing wrong, I respond strictly to her words. “Imani, that’s amazing. Congratulations!” With all the overtime and effort she’s put in, why isn’t she over the moon right now?
“It’s in Frankfurt.”
Excuse me? I blink my eyes quickly as if clearing away fog. “Did you say Frankfurt? As in Germany?”
“Yep.”
“Like an ocean away?”
“That’s the one.”
Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. This isn’t happening. “So you’re moving to Germany?” I clarify, trying to imagine Imani going back to the home of Oktoberfest and punch buggies.
“Yeah. I leave next week to start, then I’ll be back for the rest of my things in a month.”
“Next week? But that’s so—”
“Soon, I know.”
I take in a deep breath, trying to pace my racing heart. Let me get this straight. My best friend and roommate is moving halfway across the world almost immediately and I’ll be left with a lease that I can’t possibly afford because I just got fired from my only real paying job.
“Olivia, you there?” she asks.
“Yeah, sorry. Just trying to wrap my head around this.”
“I know, me too. I thought this might happen but I didn’t want to say anything until I knew more.” Is that why she’s been up my ass about finding a new job? Why hold out on me? Would it have made a difference if she hadn’t? Oh, God, I don’t know what to say. What to think. Or what to do. I can’t handle this right now.
“Listen, I really am at a funeral so I’m gonna have to call you back.”
“Are you okay?” She already knows the answer to this.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just... I’m really happy for you. Seriously. I’ll call you later.”
