Jocelyn
If you can imagine the worst thing, you are also capable of imagining the best thing.
—My Therapist
“Keep moving!” yells the airport security man.
I ignore him and continue hugging Ali. My Benz is blocking a lane, but I don’t care. My sister flew in a death trap of steel
and countless bags of pretzels and still made it to my side.
Miracles do happen.
I barely slept last night, imagining what could befall her on her trip today. When I did sleep, I dreamed her airplane crashed
into the ocean.
Always the goddamn ocean. With its uncontrollability and unfathomable depths. Stupid fucking thing, truly.
My therapist will be so disappointed.
“Move it, ladies!” the guy shouts again, closer this time.
Behind me, Asher thunks my trunk closed, now full of Ali’s suitcase. “All set, lovelies.”
“Come on.” Ali pats my back. “Let’s get in the car before they arrest us. I see you picked up a stray.” She quickly hugs Asher,
and he pecks her cheek.
I put on a fake sigh. “You pet a dog one time, and he follows you forever.”
Asher rolls his eyes. “Ha ha.”
I let Asher drive so I can focus on Ali, allowing her to have the front seat because I’m magnanimous. Her dark hair is thrown
into its I don’t care what I look like bun, and mascara is smeared under her eyes from her plane nap.
She’s perfect.
“So, what are the sister plans tonight?” Asher asks once we’re on the highway.
“Takeout and Netflix,” I say.
“And wine,” Ali adds.
“Heaven!” Asher says in a distinctly feminine voice, earning a laugh from Ali.
“What are you doing tonight, Asher?” Ali nudges his shoulder. “Hot date?”
“Yep. With my bed.”
She pulls a face. “Gross.”
He glances at her. “What? Not like that, you perv. I was on call last night. I’m tired, and unlike some people, I don’t have
a week of vacation to look forward to.”
“Oh. Well, thanks for helping Joss pick me up.”
“I didn’t need help.” I flick Asher’s ear from behind. “He tagged along because he’s bored.”
He throws up a single finger. “Um. Who was the one who was all—” he shifts to a whiny voice “—Asheeeeeer, drive me to the airport because I’m lazy and helpless and like peer pressuring you into things.”
I grin. “I don’t recall.”
He doesn’t stop with the whiny voice. “Asheeeer, my car needs gas, and I want you to fill it up.”
Ali giggles. “She really does hate pumping her own gas.”
I scoff. “It’s gross.”
“Asheeeeeer, the airport is so faaaar.”
“Okay.” I throw the only thing I can find at him—a wadded-up receipt. “We get it.”
Asher snaps his fingers. “Oh. That reminds me. You’re definitely still good to go to that wedding, right? Because I bought
our plane tickets.”
“Yep. We need to book the hotel.”
He nods. “I keep forgetting to call them.”
“I forgot y’all were doing that,” Ali says.
I throw out some jazz hands. “The dynamic duo does Florida.”
Ali sighs. “I want to go to the beach.”
“We’re going tomorrow,” I remind her.
“It’s no fun going with you. You won’t even get in the water.”
The outside scenery is dominated by billboards for lawyers and traffic signs, so I fix my unseeing gaze on the back of Ali’s
dark head, remembering my nightmare. “The ocean’s like a casino. You play long enough, it always wins.”
Without looking at me, she offers a hand. I squeeze it, and we hold hands until we reach my house. Asher dutifully helps with
her suitcase, pecks us both on the cheek and bids us goodbye.
Tug, tug goes my chest.
Ali raises an eyebrow once the door shuts. “How is that guy still single?”
“I really don’t know.”
Why am I alone?
Ughhhhhh. My heart pulls in the absolute wrong direction as I remember his face when he said that, all strained and frowny.
It’s just empathy.
“He has to have some fatal flaw,” Ali says, wheeling her bag to the guest room. “Like . . . Maybe he chews his gum louder
than a weed eater, or he regularly uses the word irregardless in conversation.”
Laughter bubbles up. “Maybe he has a secret obsession with cryptocurrency.”
After tossing the bag into the room, she returns, gasping loudly. “Maybe he’s bad in bed.”
I snort and throw myself onto my threadbare couch. “There’s no way that’s true.”
She follows and gives me a little smirk, crossing her legs with a fair bit of sass. “Thought about it, huh?”
Heat creeps up my face, and I choose not to answer since I can’t say the truth, and she’ll know I’m lying.
She points at the door. “That was some straight-up boyfriend shit.”
“It was not.”
“He drove you to pick up your sister from the airport after he apparently worked all night, and he was chipper about it the
whole time. The man deserves an award, or a handy or something.”
I scowl. “He’s always chipper. That’s just Asher.”
She shrugs, and we take a moment to simply smile at each other. My insides turn light and fuzzy. I missed her so much.
“All right, that’s enough sappy eye contact.” She breaks the moment by patting around on the cushions. “Where’s the remote?”
I pull it from beneath me and hand it to her, content to let her binge anything she wants. “Have at it, darling sister. I’ll
watch whatever you want. Even if it’s stupid baking shows.”
She lays her head on my shoulder. “I love you, Jocelyn.”
“I love you, too.”
With Ali at Pool Party Saturday, I’m like a kid showing off all my toys. My giddiness has her giggling as she greets Yayoi
and Geoff.
“The sister.” Geoff slaps a hand into Ali’s, shaking vigorously. “Long time, no see. What’s it been, like, three years?”
Ali tosses her perfect brown hair. “Three months, actually, but thanks for noticing.”
After flipping her the bird, Geoff hops into the pool and Yayoi hugs her. “I finally convinced him. We’re trying!”
“Really?” Ali’s face breaks into a giant smile. “How’d you do it?”
“I did what you said.”
“What did she say?” I ask.
Yayoi releases her. “She said when she wanted a baby and Nic wasn’t sure, she told him she didn’t feel complete.”
“Wow.” My gaze bounces between them. “That’s some masterful manipulation.”
Ali smacks my arm. “It’s not manipulation if it’s true. My babies are wanted and loved, and I am complete.”
Meanwhile, I’m considering keeping my IUD until I die. Can I have two just in case?
“Anyway, did Joss tell you about the photoshoot?”
Ali nods. “Yes! I brought the best dress for it, too. We’re doing it tomorrow?”
“Yeah, the weather is supposed to be perfection.” Yayoi shakes her fists, finally reaching toddler-level exuberance. “I’m
so excited.”
“All right, calm down before you strain yourself,” I say. “We have to make the rounds.”
Yayoi sticks her tongue out at me, then runs after Geoff to leap into the pool, her raven hair streaming behind her.
Ali has been to Texas several times in the past three years, but she’s never visited Asher’s house. I tap him on the shoulder
while he’s grilling burgers, and his smile ignites. The red apron over his swim trunks and tank reads Baking Queen in scripted letters.
The man has zero shame.
“My girls. Welcome!” He kisses us each on the cheek, then calls to the partygoers. “Party can start now! Guest of honor is
here.”
Ali gives him a playful shove. “Shut up.”
He raises a hand in surrender and turns back to the grill.
I set my chin on his shoulder. “Can I show her the house, Asher?”
“You don’t have to ask, sugar bug. Just don’t show her my red room.” He winks. “It’s private.”
Snorting, I grab Ali and head inside. As usual, the A/C is cranked high, and cold, masculine-scented air coils around us.
“He doesn’t really have a red room, does he?” She gazes up at the vaulted ceilings.
“No. It’s green.”
Ali offers a sarcastic laugh as she follows me through the modern home. I take her to the garage first so I can snag us some
pineapple White Claws.
“Hallelujah.” She snaps the tab. “My fave.”
“Right? What is even the point of the other flavors?”
“Okay.” Ali waves toward the door. “Give me the grand tour.”
She oohs and aahs in all the right places, pointing out spots the decor doesn’t fit Asher’s happy-go-lucky, excited-puppy
vibe.
“He had a designer,” I whisper when she points in confusion at the trendy metal artwork on the wall in his hallway.
Ali laughs. “Did he tell the designer to make his house look like it belongs to a GQ cover boy?”
“I think he told the dude he has a lot of parties and to make it easy to clean.”
Ali tiptoes down the hall. “Can I see his bedroom?”
“Sure.” I open the correct door and let her in.
“What’s this?” Ali takes three steps into the room. “He makes his bed?”
“I know, right? I thought the same thing. But he makes it every day.” I sweep a hand down the green comforter, remembering
that drunken night we almost ruined everything.
We can’t do this.
Still true, years later. Best decision we ever made. But now, thinking about it, I’m . . . antsy? Wait, is that regret?
WTF is up with my emotions lately?
When I lift my gaze, Ali is staring at me, eyes narrowed. “What were you thinking about?”
I pull my hand back and clench it into a fist. “Nothing.”
“You looked all . . . sad or something.” She snaps her fingers. “Melancholy. That’s what you looked like.”
“I’m fine.” I chug a gulp of my pineapple goodness.
Ali’s stupidly acute gaze moves from me to Asher’s bed, to the door, then back to me. “Jossy, are you suffering feelings?”
And there it is.
The F word.
My bones turn to ice, and all the organs in my body attempt to skitter away from the cold.
“You know I don’t have those.” Even to my own ears, the words ring false.
She sets her can down on Asher’s dresser and places her hands on her hips. “You’re human. I assure you, you do. Even when
you ignore them.”
No longer steady on my feet, I sink onto the end of the bed. “It’s just—the other day, I was teasing him about a girl at work
being into him, and suddenly he was hardcore insisting that girls don’t think he’s a catch, which is just—”
“Idiotic?”
“Yes! Thank you. So, I told him that if I was normal, I’d be all over him, and he said he didn’t believe me and thinks one
day I’ll fall in love, and it will basically fix all my emotional wounds. Then he said he’s definitely not that person.”
Ali blinks a few times. “So, let me get this straight. He called out how you pretend you have the emotional depth of a teaspoon,
then told you he isn’t gonna be the one to fix that for you, and that makes you . . . melancholy?”
“I’m not melancholy! That’s such a stupid word.”
She pulls her face into an I-don’t-believe-you sneer.
“It’s just . . . later that night, he talked about a lot of stuff that he’s never told me before. Like, insecurities I never
knew he had, and I started to . . . I don’t know. Things are different now.”
“I think you’ve caught feelings.”
I scowl at the floor. “Caught them? They aren’t contagious. This isn’t Covid.”
She laughs. “You probably think it’s worse than Covid, don’t you?”
“It will pass.” I look up, desperate for her to agree. “He’s my best friend. I can’t—”
“Can’t what? Take a chance on something?”
“It’s not that. We— We’re just friends. That’s all he wants to be. That’s all I want to be.”
“Jossy, what do I always say?” She runs her finger along Asher’s dresser, then snaps up her drink.
I groan. “Ali—”
She whirls on me. “Ah, ah! What do I say?”
My shoulders fall. “Nothing is more believable than the lie you tell yourself.”
“Exactly. If you hide your feelings behind friendship, you’re lying to him and yourself.”
I drop my voice to a whisper, suddenly afraid someone else might hear, even though the house is silent. “Maybe it doesn’t
matter how I feel because he straight up told me he’s not my person.”
Her dubious expression is on point today. “Aren’t you doing engagement photos with him tomorrow?”
“Fake engagement photos.”
“Eh. I don’t know, girl. Kind of seems like there’s a chance he’s interested. What kind of man would agree to do engagement
photos or pay for a trip to Florida with a woman he’s not interested in?”
“Asher. That kind of man. He’d do anything for his friends. He’s not interested in me. Trust me.”
That idiotic tugging in my chest won’t let up.
Ali shrugs. “You can’t know unless you ask.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because the last guy I loved died, Ali.” The words explode from me, far too loud. “Did you forget about that?”
Her face falls. “Joss, that was sixteen years ago.”
“Death is as threatening today as it was sixteen years ago.”
She presses her lips together and nods, gazing around the room.
“I know that fear. I look at my children’s faces every night and imagine all the terrible things that could happen to them.
But you have to let someone in eventually, Jocelyn.
Closing yourself off doesn’t make you safe. It makes you less human.”
The sincerity in her expression strikes deep, and I fight the sudden burn in my throat. I look down, willing away the tears.
Ali is the only person in my life who truly understands my abnormal normality. She lived through the trauma right beside me
and knows the invisible scars that grief has left. These words are hard-earned lessons she’s learned from years of therapy
and unconditional love from her husband.
She’s further along in her journey to self-healing than I am.
I’m not sure I’ll ever reach her level.
My phone buzzes, and I pull it from my back pocket. A text from Sue Ellen pops up.
Is my son eating enough? He looks so skinny.
I’ll feed him a cheeseburger today myself
Mwahaha. Take that, shredded abs.
Such a dear. He prefers cheddar.
I’ll put on two slices
Did I mention he took dance classes in high school? He’s quite good.
Ballroom?
Yes. And hop hop.
Hip hop?
Yes that
I grin at my phone. Sue Ellen is pure gold. A veritable treasure trove of embarrassing Asher information.
Ali peeks over my shoulder. “Who’s Sue Ellen?”
“Asher’s mom.”
The accusatory tone returns. “You text his mom?”
“I will not be judged for this.” I glare at her. “Sue Ellen is the tits.”
“Oh, girl. He’s in there way deeper than I thought, isn’t he?”
“Shut up. My walls are higher than ever.” Does it matter if he might have—okay, probably has—already tunneled under them?
“Right,” she says. “Keep telling yourself that.”