Page 49 of Best Friends for Never

He turns his eyes up at the sun, squinting. “So, what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are you doing the rest of the day? I thought we might want to get together to come up with some other fundraising ideas.”

He wants toget togetherwithme.

It’s a ridiculous suggestion. Completely absurd. Totally and utterly ludicrous.

And yet, I still find myself saying, “Sure. Let’s go check out the new Rossi Café.”

He folds at the waist, holding his hand out dramatically. “After you, my lady.”

I roll my eyes, charging by him, leading us to the sidewalk. I don’t take us to Borgen Avenue. I’m not sure I’m ready to stroll with Noel through the middle of town. Instead, I stick to the outer road, taking us the long way to the café.

We walk side by side, our arms brushing together every few steps. It’s the same thing we’ve done so many times before, but it feels different now. Every step feels loaded, and every brush feels like it means something.

I wish we could turn back time and go back to when it was simple. I miss simple.

Suddenly, Noel pulls to a stop, and I instantly realize my mistake in taking us this way.

He steps up to the cemetery gate, the one I’ve been coming to every month for the last ten years, and stares longingly at the headstones.

We stand like that for several moments before he finally looks at me.

“You mind?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Not one bit.”

He pushes the gate open, and we make our way down the small dirt path toward the back. It’s the path I’ve walked so many times, so I stop when he passes by the turn he should be making.

He notices, turning back to me.

“Shit. Itisthat way, isn’t it?” His shoulders fall forward in disappointment as he returns to my side. “Can’t believe I forgot.”

“Well, it has been a while.”

He swallows hard, putting his head down, and we keep trudging along.

Halfway down, we take another turn, then walk past five plots before I stop. I let him go ahead, knowing he’ll need this moment to himself.

Noel sucks in a deep breath, then turns to the old graves.

“Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad.” He smiles softly. “Been a minute, huh?”

He crouches down, reaching forward to run his fingers over each letter in their names. I know because I’ve seen him do it so many times in our youth.

“Sorry I don’t have any flowers. But I guess that’s okay because it looks like someone already took care of that for me, didn’t they?”

He glances over at me with suspicion.

I shrug in response, but he knows I kept up the tradition while he was gone.

At first, I did it because he asked me to. But after we stopped talking, I kept coming here. Maybe because it was a way to stay connected to Noel, or maybe because even though I never met his parents, they still felt like such important pieces of my life. Either way, I’ve kept it up for ten years and don’t plan to stop anytime soon.

He offers a smile before turning back to his parents. I move away to give them privacy. Whatever he’s saying, that’s for them, not me.

Since it happened before I moved here, sometimes I forget that Noel lost his parents just like I lost my dad. Sure, his parents were taken from him instead of choosing to leave, but we were both left behind one way or another.

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