Page 110 of As You Walk On

River nods eagerly before powering through a brain freeze from slurping down too much of their cherry limeade slush.

I have my signature blue raspberry one.

We’re outside a Sonic Drive-In not too far from Brook-Oak. Katie, River’s sister, dropped us off, promising to return after her eight o’clock Intro to Film class. She goes to the University of Louisville. I almost asked her opinion about the school. If she likes being close to home.

But today’s not about me. I’m here for River.

“It’s so good,” exclaims River as we walk through the parking lot.

I laugh. “How have you never had a Sonic slush before?”

“Bad Yelp reviews?” River offers. “I try not to eat at places with less than three-point-five stars.”

I almost choke on another slurp. “No one comes to Sonic for their food or service.” Proudly, I lift my cup into the air like it’s Excalibur. “Only for the glory that is their slushes.”

“That’s fair.”

“They’re one of my fave ways to come down after a meet,” I tell them. “Minus the brain freezes.”

On cue, River winces through another frozen headache.

I manage to keep my cackle in check.

Part of me wants to mention how TNT used to come here. Trading off who bought the round of slushes. Sitting in the back of Jay’s open trunk. Watching the sunset with our cleats kicked off, legs swinging as we talked about nothing at all. But I’m not ready to go there.

The Jay-shaped wound in my chest is still fresh, taking far too long to heal.

We follow the sidewalk along the main road in a comfortable silence. When did we get to this point? Where the quiet isn’t awkward? I’m used to the way River flicks hair out of their face every five minutes. And they don’t mind my humming as we walk.

Just two kids moving through the world.

Two friends?

My eyes are drawn to River. They chew on their red straw. Their pace slows to match mine.

“I’m really sorry about what I said the other night. For—” I pause, scrambling for what to insert here.

“Being a prick?” River offers. “A jerk?”

“Well—”

“An asshat? Douchebag? Complete—”

“Geez. Point taken!” I hold a hand up. “How many more nouns did you have ready?”

“At least five.”

River grins, chin tilted so high their glasses unsettle on their face.

“I was... all of that,” I say, sighing. “And I shouldn’t have been. I said messed-up shit. Ditched everyone. I acted like our group wasn’t important when it really was. I’m sorry.”

River shrugs. “I understand.”

“You do?”

“When Devau—” They stop, breathing deeply. I give them as much time as they need. “After everything happened with him, Katie kept trying to encourage me to do things. Go to counseling. Hiking. Painting. Join a queer support group.”

Ahead of us, the sun kisses the green hills in the distance. Buildings are blurred by the light. Trees dance with a rare breeze.

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