Chapter 3
Kai’s grandpa’s artisanal ice cream shop is a hidden gem, tucked away in the corner of a quiet street in Sherman Oaks.
It’s closed today, so it’s just us there, silence pooling around us like a stormy cloud.
I take in the space, the sweet smell of cones wrapping around the air, but not much has changed since I was last here.
The interior is a blend of modern and rustic, walls adorned with framed photos of Kai’s family—his grandpa, in his youth, back home in Brazil.
He grew up in a small town in Minas Gerais before he met his wife in Belo Horizonte.
They ended up moving to LA, where they eventually settled and had three kids.
After Kai’s grandma passed, Kai’s aunt and uncle moved to S?o Paulo, but Kai’s dad fell in love with a woman from California, so he stayed here, and a few years later they had Kai.
There are pictures of baby Kai on the wall, too, messily eating an acaí bowl, next to another one where Kai’s family is holding an award the store won.
Glass shelves line one side, displaying toppings in jars, and a long wooden counter stretches across the room.
Apart from the ice cream and acaí bowl selections, there are two gleaming frozen yogurt machines.
Behind the counter, a chalkboard menu lists the top flavor selections and combos.
A pang of nostalgia spears me when my eyes stumble upon SASHA’S FROYO among the recommendations.
His grandpa named a combo after me when Kai and I became friends and started coming here to do our homework.
I thought they would have changed it after we broke up.
I turn around to face Kai, but his back is to me as he plops down on a cushioned chair. We didn’t speak on the way here. I didn’t have any energy left, and I’m still struggling to catch up.
The AC sparks to life, making me shiver in my wet clothes. Or maybe it’s the memories trapped in this place, prickling my skin like a thousand needles.
“We’re cool to chill here for a bit.” Kai takes off his aviator jacket and leaves it on the seat next to his, a silent invitation. It means You can have it in Kai-speak. I slip the jacket around my shoulders, not thinking too much of it, or the smell of green apples that lingers in the fabric.
“How’s your grandpa?” I ask. “The shop seems to be doing great.”
Kai’s parents went through a messy divorce when he was twelve, so his grandpa took him in. Things settled eventually, but he continued living with him.
“He’s good. He injured his back, though, so he’s letting me borrow his bike while he heals.” When we make eye contact, Kai looks away. He rises to his feet and gestures toward the counter. “Want something to eat?”
“Sure.” Irritation curdles in my belly. Why is he acting like nothing happened between us? “I’ll have some Froyo, if that’s okay? Plain—”
“Plain tart. Mango. Doce de leite. Crumbled Oreos. I remember,” he says, his back to me.
The moment stretches into a charged silence, punctuated by the sound of the machine as it whirs to life, spitting swirls of yogurt into a cup.
Everything about this place looks the same, but it no longer brings me the comfort it once did.
Back then, it was a second home. Now it’s a ghost town.
We can’t go back to the way things were, no matter how much I wish we could.
“Kai…” I hesitate. “What were you doing at our school today?”
I don’t want to upset this fragile balance, but I need to know. Why did he show up out of nowhere, acting as if I hadn’t broken his heart?
“Told you. I was in the neighborhood.” He rubs the back of his neck and goes to the back of the shop to get a scoop of brigadeiro ice cream in a cup for himself. But it’s in the air. He knows. I know. We need to talk about it. About why we haven’t spoken in two years.
Kai, Mia, and I went to the same elementary and middle school, but while Mia and I gravitated toward each other, Kai was the kind of kid who liked to do his own thing. We didn’t become friends until high school, when the three of us were paired together for a school project.
Kai and I bonded fast, or more like battled for dominance over the project.
We had the same dry humor, the same nihilistic way of seeing life.
He was ridiculously passionate about art.
So much so that he inspired me to take the plunge and start writing music.
We’d often skip class and I’d play guitar while he drew.
We got drunk together for the first time.
We smoked weed together and both hated it.
We were the demon on each other’s shoulder, as Mia would put it.
Kai was the person I could always talk to about anything.
We’d wait for manga leaks on school nights, and I’d hide my phone under my pillow so my moms couldn’t tell I was talking to him.
One time I called him at three AM and told him about the latest Wikipedia hole I’d gone down (holographic principle), and we stayed up talking until our alarms rang.
When he asked me out years later, my initial reaction was shock, because this was Kai. I had no idea he felt this way about me. Or about anyone. It never crossed my mind that he was interested in someone, let alone me.
I said yes, because I felt comfortable with him, and I assumed that’s what a crush was supposed to feel like. Someone you want to hang out with forever. And Kai was handsome, I knew that objectively. He could have anyone he wanted, but he wanted me, and I loved spending time with him.
He was my first everything—my first date, my first kiss, my first time.
In the beginning, it all felt like we were still us.
I thought being in love meant feeling happy and comfortable.
But as the months went on, the more he fell in love with me, the more obvious it became that I didn’t feel the same way.
I loved him, just not like he did. I’d jump in front of a car to save his life, but there were no butterflies in my stomach when he kissed me.
I thought there was something wrong with me, that I was ruining things between us somehow.
I became withdrawn, and my grades dropped, so my moms took me to therapy.
They were worried. But I got really lucky with my therapist. She has an asexual daughter, and she introduced me to the concepts of asexuality and aromanticism.
She helped me understand that I don’t need to be changed.
And that there’s joy in being aroace. That my empathy and my humanity are the best part of me, and they have nothing to do with the way I experience romantic attraction.
The day Kai first told me I love you was the day I came out to him.
You’re heartless. The last text he ever sent me is etched into my memory.
I deleted our conversations a long time ago, but I still think about texting him sometimes.
When something good happens, my first instinct is to tell Mia and Kai.
But I could never muster the courage to do it.
I thought it was selfish, to want him back as a friend when he loved me as his girlfriend.
But now Kai is in front of me, and this might be my only chance to make things right.
“I—” My heart squeezes. I don’t know where to start. Sorry I couldn’t love you in the way you needed me to? Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner?
“Sasha, I’m sorry.” Kai picks at a napkin until it’s nothing but shreds, his eyes blazing with an intensity that startles me. “For the way I ended things. I was hurt.” I blink. Is he apologizing? Why? “I should have heard you out. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, I…” My voice shakes. “I shouldn’t have agreed to date you when I wasn’t sure of … I just didn’t know better. I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel. I hurt you.”
“But you were hurting, too. I failed to see that.” He glances at me, his gaze sharp. “I guess … a part of me was upset that you didn’t tell me. About what you were going through. I was still your best friend.”
“I was afraid to lose you if I told you.”
And I did.
A few months after our falling out, I started posting my music online, the songs I had written before, and new ones. I guess it was my way of dissociating after losing my best friend.
I wonder … In a universe where I’m not aroace, what are we? What are we doing right now? Would we still be here, having ice cream together? Except, maybe, in that universe, we go home together. In that universe, we’re in love, and I never have to say goodbye.
Kai smiles sadly, and my heart drops like a boulder. I want to tell him that I never did anything I didn’t want to do. And I loved him. I really did.
I’ve always hated the expression more than friends, as if romantic love were one step above friendship. If you ask me, friendship is just as valid as romance. It’s steady, reliable, unconditional.
Us not dating will never mean I love him any less.
We eat our frozen treats, quietly talking about a show we’re both watching. I don’t know where this leaves us, or if this is the last time we’ll ever speak. But I’m glad that at least he doesn’t hate me anymore.
“So, you stayed in LA for college?” I ask, noting the pin on his jacket. I trail my fingers across its surface, a flicker of anxiety still coursing through me. Why was he at our school today?
“Yeah.” He lets out a long sigh, sweeping his hair back with a faraway look. Something’s off with him, but I don’t know what it is, or how to ask him.
“What’s your major?”
“Computer science.” He presses his lips into a hard line.
“Oh.” I must have made a face, because Kai’s eyebrows rise in surprise.
“What, you didn’t think I’d make the cut?”
“No, it’s just…” I bite my lip. “Don’t you draw anymore?”