Page 28 of I Saw Her First

I pause. I don’t miss the way she uses the past tense, but that could simply be because they’ve lost touch over the years.

“She died when I was seventeen,” Daisy says, so quiet I almost don’t hear her. She’s stopped eating, instead pushing her food around her plate. “Whenshewas seventeen.”

There’s a tight squeeze in my chest. “Oh, Daisy…” I set my fork down and reach out to touch her arm, then withdraw my hand, letting it hover. “That’s… I’m sorry.”

“She was my best friend. We’d known each other since elementary school, and we did everything together. She was the only person who truly knew me, you know? She liked me for who I was. I felt invincible with her. She was more like a sister than a friend. I didn’t know who I was without her. Then one day… she was gone.”

This time I let my hand land on Daisy’s arm, and squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”

Daisy shakes her head, as if snapping out of it, and glances up at me. “No,I’msorry. I shouldn’t be talking about this. Not when…” she trails off and reaches for her wine with another firm shake of her head.

“It’s okay.” I give her arm another squeeze and remove my hand.

“No.” Daisy sets her glass down, her mouth in a thin line. “This happened eight years ago. That’s ages, nothing compared to…” She looks at me, waiting.

“Lydia,” I say softly.

“Lydia. I’m sorry, Weston.”

“Wes,” I correct, and she chuffs a grim laugh.

“Wes. I’m sorry. The music just took me right back there.” She inhales a shaky breath, then picks up her wine again.

“It doesn’t matter how much time has passed. Grief is like that. You think you’re doing fine, then it comes out of nowhere and completely blindsides you.”

She takes a sip of wine, her eyes sad. I’ve never seen her sad before, and it pierces something deep in my chest. Something I try to ignore.

“I don’t think about it often,” she murmurs, “but you’re right. Sometimes it hits me out of nowhere.”

I reach for my fork, thinking about the strong reaction she had to loading the film into my Nikon last night. “Does this have something to do with why you won’t use my camera?”

Daisy meets my gaze and nods. She doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t push her. The record stops and I rise from my stool to change it.

“Should I put something different on?” I ask, and Daisy gives me a melancholy smile.

“No, it’s nice. Do you haveAja?”

I nod, slipping the next Steely Dan album from its sleeve and putting it on. Music fills the air, and with a deep sigh, Daisy returns to her food. I return to my stool and join her, thinking about what she shared about her friend Beth. It doesn’t surprise me. If anything, it explains more about Daisy. She’s always come across as more mature and worldly than her age—which I’ve now deduced is twenty-five. Grief will do that to you, especially if you experience it at a young age. It forces you to grow up, matures you beyond your years.

Unless you’re my son, of course. I don’t know what will get Jesse to grow up. I’m astounded that he went out withoutDaisy again, and thinking about that, I feel a sudden surge of indignation on her behalf.

“I’m sorry that Jess hasn’t been in a great mood,” I say. “He shouldn’t be out without you.”

Daisy lifts a shoulder. “He invited me. I just…” she trails off, poking at her food.

“Didn’t want to be around Rex?”

She emits an awkward laugh. “Yes, actually. I know it’s awful of me, but…” She grimaces. “I’m not sure about that guy.”

I give her a wry smile over my wineglass. “You and me both.”

“Jess is like a different person around him.” Daisy looks up as I nod. “And… you,” she adds, her cheeks coloring slightly. “He’s different around you.”

I twist my glass, letting my breath out in a long stream. “Believe it or not, Jesse and I used to be close.”

Daisy studies me. “Before his mom… Lydia… died?”

I swallow. “Yes.”

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