38
F or the past four years, I’ve had one constant in my life: Teller Owens is my best friend. We may not have talked regularly last year, but I was comforted knowing that if I really needed him, he would be there.
Now something has shifted between us. Despite our attempts to act like everything is normal as they rush around packing up the Airbnb, I can tell by the look in his eyes, in that prolonged hug. I can tell by the way he folds me in tight, like it’s the last time things will ever be like this. How can they be? Maybe the vision was correct. How can we go back to just being friends after confessing we’re in love with each other? After acknowledging that we can’t be together?
“Hey, before I go, I want to give you a parting gift,” he says, releasing his grip around me, fully aware Dad and Mei are watching from the car.
I suck in one last breath of that fresh-cut-grass scent and finally let go. “Yeah?”
He whips out his money belt from behind his back, and a laugh rockets out of me. “For your travels. And look, there’s even a secret pocket inside. Look.”
I follow his lead, cracking the tiny, hidden pocket open. My finger brushes up against something. It’s card stock.
Gently, I tug it out, knees nearly buckling at the sight of it. It’s not the photo. It’s one I haven’t seen before. It looks to have been taken at Nai Nai’s, based on the mustard-colored wall. Mom is holding me on the couch, smiling down at me with a love so intense, I feel it through the photo. I’m swaddled tight in a pale-pink blanket like a burrito, no older than a month. Dad is sitting next to her, mouth open like he’s talking, one arm wrapped protectively around Mom’s shoulder. They both look intensely sleep deprived, hair a mess, eyes dark and heavy, shirts untucked. It’s everything I love about the original photo: it’s not posed. It’s entirely candid, a snapshot of a mere second. And in that moment, we’re so incredibly happy.
“I know it’s not the photo,” Teller says. “But when your aunt Ellen sent a copy of the original, she sent a bunch of others too. And I saw this one and I just ... thought you might like it.”
My heart threatens to burst. It’s absolutely perfect. Why does he have to be so thoughtful? “Thank you, Tel. This means everything,” I say, rocking the money belt and photo close to my chest. Before we left for this trip, I’d have burned it at the stake if I could. And now, it’s my most prized possession.
Our eyes catch and a long beat passes. It feels like we’re in the center of a snow globe, just waiting for someone to shake it. Neither of us are ready to say goodbye. Instead, I burrow my head into his neck and wrap my arms around his torso, holding on for dear life. Because he’s truly the best friend I’ve ever had.
“I would have liked doing laundry and taxes together,” I whisper.
“Me too,” he says, adding, “And yes, I know that was from Everything Everywhere All at Once .”
I can only laugh. Otherwise, I might cry. “I’m sorry.”
He pulls back to look me dead in the eye. “Don’t be. I want you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. Then he turns away and heads toward the car.
I wrap my arms around myself, watching them reverse out of the driveway. Dad gives me an embarrassingly aggressive wave through the window, like he used to when he left for work in the mornings. I barely hold it together as I wave back. As their car gets smaller and smaller, I let the tears flow. I’m still crying when I meet up with Caleb. He takes my rucksack and sets it on the ground beside us, pulling me into his arms.
“You miss your fam,” he says, drawing a sympathetic circle on my lower back.
I nod, although it’s only a partial truth. I’m crying because I know I’ve just lost my best friend.
I mope the rest of the day as we whip around on Caleb’s rental Vespa. I’m thankful for the setup. He can’t hear my silence or see my frown on the scooter. I decide to allow myself one day to wallow in my feelings. Just one day. Any longer and I fear I won’t be able to snap out of it.
From tomorrow on, I vow to relish the privilege of being untethered, with no plan, no obligations. I vow to fully embrace Caleb, and fate, or something like that.