Page 103 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

He’s not anaddictanymore, at least that Phoenix is aware of.

God, who else knows? This is going to crush Phoenix. He already feels left out, ignored, and like he doesn’t matter. Well, I’m not going to do that to him. I’m going to tell him. Fuck. How do I tell him?

I lean against the grocery cart and quickly pull up Jorge’s number. He’ll know how to talk to Phoenix about this without it being some crazy bomb drop that’ll ruin our entire fucking reunion.

Hey. I just ran into Oli at my meeting. He’s in recovery, I guess. I want to tell Phoenix.

He might be up. Maybe. I’m unsure, but I slide my phone into my pocket and continue getting groceries. I grab three containers of Oreos for Phoenix, then some Chips ‘O Hoy for myself. I’m over by the meat when my phone buzzes.

Word it delicately.

Second thought. Perhaps not at all.

What did Oli say?

Why not at all? Why the fuck would I keep that from him?

He said that he’d talk to Phoenix when he was ready to and told me basically to fuck off.

I’m going to tell him.

I wouldn’t.

Because??

Just a feeling, but do what you gotta do.

That is fucking stupid.

So much for being the all-wise and knowing best friend.

Asshole. I pocket my phone, get the rest of my groceries, and think about it for the rest of the day.

Phoenix

Home

“Move!” I bark at Jorge, who’s too busy texting to move his fucking ass up the damn line.

This is the part of flying that sucks. Everyone wants to get off at the same time, but no one moves their bodies. I’m like a trapped prancing pony in this narrow aisle. I’ve got my duffle over my shoulder, carry-on in my hand, and I’m bursting at the seams to gethome.

Eli is waiting for me, damn it.

God, I’m going to eat his face. Just chew it right off.

We shuffle a few steps, stopping when a mother has to situate her diaper bag and flailing toddler. Usually, it’d warm my heart to see a little kid being feisty, but right now, the only thing I want is off this plane. Since I’m taller than Jorge, I crane my head over his shoulder to see who he’s texting, and he shrieks, clutching his phone to his chest.

“Jesus,” he rasps. “Don’t sneak up on a guy like that.”

“I’m literally right behind you.”

He blows a raspberry at me and pockets his phone.

“Who are you texting?”

“Sonia,” he says and faces me. “Excited?” Wow, that’s a fast subject change.

He’s been so weird lately. Like every day that passes, he’s been morphing into this overly animated and twitchy dude that’s before me. I’ll figure out what’s going on with him eventually, just not currently. I take the opportunity to gush. “I can’t even describe how excited I am.” I even bounce on my heels.

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