Twenty-two
Bri
Returning to California feels like giving up.
Not giving up on myself, but giving up on happiness.
It’s like coming home after a vacation I waited years to take.
Liem was my beach, my happy place where stress dissolved.
We had the thrill of a summer fling that ended in the heartbreak we thought brevity would help us avoid.
I don’t want to be here.
“Babe!” Keisha sings while pulling me into a hug.
I can feel her bump against me, a month bigger than the last time I saw her.
There’s no way she’s still fooling people.
The coconut scent from her hair brings back countless memories.
It’s comforting to be in her emphatic embrace, whether she is feeling sorry for me or not.
“I missed you,” I say.
“I missed you too,” she says. “Let’s get you home.”
I’m not sure Los Angeles feels like home anymore.
~
In the house, Keisha and Kellen let me get settled into the guest room. Keisha has already made it cozy for me with my favorite toiletries set up in the bathroom, one of my favorite scented candles with a warming tray on the side table, and two extra blankets waiting at the foot of the bed.
An hour later, my suitcase is mostly unpacked, a basket of laundry sits on one side of me, and half a closet is full of what I had washed right before we left.
The candle is warming already, filling the room with linen and vanilla notes that I love but don’t smell like home anymore. It’s obvious what’s missing.
Opening Liem’s suitcase, I peek at all the items he claimed weren’t necessities.
His favorite hoodie, a book, two pairs of glasses.
I feel like I’m overstepping when I take out enough of his clothes to find the ring box.
I open it, sighing all over again when I see the size of the diamond.
While he should have checked it, I’m sure he meant to keep it close in case his luggage got lost. The irony.
Natalie’s note is no longer stuffed in the lid. He must have discarded it in our morning rush before the flights. I don’t like imagining him reading it, but at least I softened the blow before he did.
I close the box and place it back where I found it. Before packing anything back in, I lift his hoodie to my nose and inhale his scent.
The notes of oak and rain mix with the sweetness of the vanilla candle, and I’m back in Brooklyn in a second.
Calm and cozy, Liem sitting on the floor next to me, teasing me for finally appreciating his scent the way he enjoys mine.
I’m starting to get it now. He’s still a nerd, but he’s onto something.
God, I miss him. I decide to keep the hoodie against my nose for a bit longer.
“What’s that?” Keisha asks from the doorway.
I lower the hoodie from my face casually as if I was doing something completely normal. “Liem and I accidentally got our suitcases mixed up at the airport. This is his.”
“Accidentally.” She quirks a brow, implying I stole it.
“Tell your face to hush. We have the same case. I grabbed the wrong one in a hurry to catch my flight.”
“Sure, babe, sure. Tacos for dinner?” she suggests. The baby must make her think about food as much as I do.
I can’t believe how much her belly has grown. There’s nothing like a pregnancy to bookmark exactly how much time has passed. The tracking of weeks, months, adding more emphasis to a timeline that already consumes my life.
“I’m not the boss here. Whatever baby wants, we get,” I say.
“Well, baby wants jalapenos and mustard on potato chips right now, so you better not let her decide.”
The word hangs in the air. “Her?”
Keisha’s mouth drops open. She wasn’t supposed to say that, but I’m happy she slipped.
“You’re having a girl,” I coo. Going to her, I wrap her up in as big a hug as my future niece will allow. The idea of a little Keisha giving her the same shit she gives me warms my heart.
Keisha’s teary smile is infectious when I let her go. “I’m sorry for what happened in New York, but I am very glad I get to have you here for this.”
I’m happy I’m here for this part as well, even though my only regret from New York is leaving.
~
It feels good to be at brunch with the girls again.
Our friend group started in college, and while we’ve all gone in different directions over the past few years, we’ve stuck to our quarterly meet-ups.
I cherish my time with all of them, whether I feel out of place or not.
Our couple, Lupe and Harlow, Whitney, Junie, Keisha—all of them growing, achieving, succeeding.
I spend my morning listening to their stories, proud and impressed, even when I show up brunch after brunch with nothing to share.
While Lupe and Harlow split a story about the newest maintenance drama on the house they closed on the week before I left, I sneak a sip of Keisha’s untouched mimosa while my mind drifts to Brooklyn again.
The last time Liem and I went out for drinks .
. . The way he kissed me before having a single sip.
The way he kissed me after more than a few sips.
The way he kissed me when I left, thinking he would never see me again.
It was like kissing three different men.
One sweet, one sensual, one heartbreakingly unattainable.
Gaining the trust and affection of someone as enigmatic as him is the only accomplishment I’ve had since our last brunch.
I was supposed to show up today with a ring on my finger from David. All of them avoid the topic to save me from elaborating on my last contribution to the group chat. I almost slipped on
Liem’s ring this morning to see how it felt, but wearing someone else’s engagement ring has to be bad luck, whether their relationship was cursed or not.
Keisha hugs me to her side, anxiously awaiting the perfect time to drop in with her baby announcement. No one seems to notice her unfinished mimosa when she would usually be three rounds deep by now.
When the opportunity presents itself, Keisha’s hand tightens on my leg. “I have big news,” she says.
“Me too!” Junie agrees. My mouth hangs open when I realize what her news will be. More than that, I can’t believe they still haven’t told each other.
Keisha and I exchange a glance. She needs help. “You should definitely go first, Junie,” I say.
“Okay, okay.” Junie waves her hands with a calming breath. “I got the promotion.”
“Oh my god!” everyone squeals except Keisha. She must be pissed.
“Congrats, Junie,” I say. “I knew you’d get it.”
“It’s about damn time, if you ask me,” Lupe adds.
“What did I tell you about manifestation, girl? That shit’s real,” Whitney says.
For someone with as technical a job as finance, she is crunchy as hell.
Sneeze the wrong way and she will send you home with a crystal, herbal tea, and a journaling exercise to try.
She slipped me a pinkish stone the moment we sat down, saying only, “For your heart chakra,” before slinking off to the other end of the table.
She might as well have handed me a slice of toast and said, “For the stars.”
“Okay, Keisha. Your turn.” Junie turns the spotlight.
Keisha looks to me for help, the smile splitting her face. I squeeze her hand. She turns to them and says, “I’m pregnant.”
And then everyone screams.
We get looks from the tables around us, but who cares?
This is a huge year for our group. A wedding and new house, two promotions, a baby.
And then there’s me. Flat broke, reluctantly single, no job prospects.
I’m living the same life I had at twenty while pushing thirty.
At least my friends’ lives give me all the excitement I need.
Harlow, the most sentimental of the group, is in tears.
“Look at us,” she remarks. “Starting our nest,” she says to her love, “Whitney earning her worth, Junie with her promotion, Keisha becoming a mommy, and . . .” She stops when she realizes I’m left.
“And Bri, who . . . who . . .” You’re thinking real hard about that one, huh?
“Who is starting her next chapter,” Whitney finishes for her, as if that’s a compliment.
We clink our glasses, and I can’t look any of them in the eye.
~
Brunch wiped me out. After having my ego sapped, I went to my bedroom and curled up under a blanket.
I would have slept all afternoon into the night, but the sounds of flirtatious laughter coming from Keisha and her traitorous husband in the next room made me get up and go for a walk.
Now that I’m back, I want to look for jobs and apartments, give myself a reason to get out of this damned house as soon as possible, but I don’t want any of that as much as I want to talk to Liem.
Me: Sorry for not calling. I’m getting pulled in a million directions.
My phone doesn’t make it to the mattress before it pings with his message.
Liem: Me too
Liem: How are you?
Not great. After a long day of introspection, I don’t want to talk about myself anymore.
Me: Can I call you?
Liem: Of course
The video does half a ring before his face appears. Fuck. That smile, those cheekbones, his day-three curls, soft and perfect, begging to be touched. It has only been two days, but going from seeing him hours a day to nothing at all . . . it’s easy to forget how outrageously beautiful he is.
“Hey, Hoodie,” I greet him.
He pulls his hood over his head. “Hi.”
His smile hits my body in all the wrong places. The last time he looked at me and didn’t seem sad, he was inside me, doing things to me I didn’t know someone could do.
“How’s Seattle?”
“Exactly how I left it.”
I understand what he means. We’d made plans to leave home for a reason. Even though those reasons didn’t play out the way we wanted, it doesn’t mean we want to rewind to where we started and try again.
“Are you staying at your parents’ place?”
“Yeah. My old bedroom. Same as it was in high school.” He pans the phone around, showing me the room. It’s smaller than my room in the Brooklyn apartment, only enough room for a twin bed and a desk.
“Did you find an apartment?”
“I’m looking at some tomorrow. It’s basically a see-and-sign situation here. Nothing stays available for longer than a day or two.”
“Same here.”
Though our conversation is the same as the rundowns we would have in the apartment, something is off. Yes, we’re apart, and yes, we had sex the last time we were together, but I refuse to believe that ended our bond.
“Liem. What is up with you? Just because we’re on the phone rather than next to each other doesn’t mean you get to clam up on me. Talk to me.”
True to our relationship, he doesn’t need me to clarify. “Is it weird?” he asks. “That I—that we . . . ?”
“It doesn’t have to be weird. Sometimes friends kiss. Sometimes they have sex. It’s . . . normal.”
“Right. Definitely,” he says with a nod, though I know he’s never had sex with someone he knew was just a friend. “We’re good?”
“We’re always going to be good, Hoodie. Even if you embrace your Pacific Northwest identity and become a serial killer, I’ll still be the friend saying, ‘He was such a sweet guy, this is so unlike him,’ until they find the bodies.
” Finally, I get a real laugh from him. “Now, tell me how you really are.”
He rolls to his side, lying on his pillow as if we’re in bed together. I mimic his position to get the full experience.
“My mom is in Vietnam, so I’ve been stuck with my dad.”
“How’s that been?”
He shrugs. “He’s said about four words to me this whole time. This morning, I got uncomfortable and faked a phone call so I could leave the room. He’s been busy at the restaurant most of the time. Luckily.”
“Sorry, babe.” Something moves in the background. A tail flickers behind his shoulder. “Is that a cat?”
“Yeah.” He rolls to grab it. “This is Bean.”
“Bean?”
“Bean Sprout, technically. She’s the only good part of living in this house.” Bean looks around for an escape route, but when he flops her onto her side and pets her, she gives in, stretching to receive the maximum touch possible. Relatable. “How is it living with Keisha? For real.”
“Nothing reminds you how fast time is passing like your friend’s pregnancy. I have to get into my own place ASAP. Can you imagine having to feed your baby and your deadbeat friend each morning?”
“You’re not a—”
“I know what I am. I’m living in a guest room. Pity me.”
He laughs. “When is she due?”
“Two weeks after my birthday. I wanted to be out by then anyway, but this put my plans into overdrive. I’m going to apply for two jobs tomorrow—in person, not online. I’m over that shit.”
“That’s good. I’m proud of you.”
The pause that follows stretches longer than it should, filled with all the feelings I’m not sure how to express in words. “I miss you,” is the best way to explain it.
The smile spreads on his face. “I miss you too. Like, bad.”
“You can call me whenever. I mean that.”
“Okay.”
“Middle of the night. During your shower. From the toilet, if you must, as long as you’re on mute.”
“Bri, stop. I will call you.”
“Tomorrow?”
He tries to pin his widening smile. “I will call you tomorrow. Get some sleep.”
We end the call, and I set my phone down with a sigh. In the quiet darkness of the room, I feel more alone than I have in years. The pink stone and hoodie-covered pillow are all the comfort I have.
If manifesting works, I want a six-figure job and Liem in my bed tomorrow. Make it happen, crystal.