Page 114 of As You Walk On

I swallow, then reply, “Yes.”

“When you said we weren’t only friends because your dad and Uncle Mario were—” The hesitation returns. It’s as if her wound has barely scabbed over, even after all this time. “Were you being honest?”

It’s the one question I’ve never wanted to answer.

This time, I look beyond her. To the rafters. Into one of the bright lights until it hurts more than the truth I’ve been terrified to confront.

If someone had asked me five years ago, I know what I would’ve said: “No.” It’s why I ended things. In that moment, it was clear.

At least, I thought it was.

Now all I think about is my friendship with Jay. That foundation others built for us. A paper-thin house we grew too big for. Isn’t it the same with Aleah? Dad and Miles introduced us, provided the ground we stood on.

But it never felt like Jay and me.

I used to lie in bed, hands folded behind my head, watching my ceiling. I’d imagine a million different scenarios where Aleah and I meet other than at church. On a playground. In a community pool during the summer. Dancing to the same song at a party.

I never saw those things with Jay. I couldn’t imagine it happening any other way than through our parents.

“Yes,” I finally say, my voice thick. “You were my best friend. They didn’t matter.”

“Obviously they did.”

“But it’s not why westayedfriends.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” I say earnestly. “Aleah, our connection was real. You saw me like—” I pause the same way she did minutes ago, face pinched. I won’t say his name. “Like a lot of people haven’t seen me.”

It aches from my toes to temples knowing I walked away from that.

That I might not ever have it again.

She spins the basketball on her index finger, one eyebrow raised. I think she’s telling me the ball is in my court or something metaphorical.

“I’m sorry I—”

She groans, dribbling the ball loudly like she doesn’t want to hear it. I don’t care. Makayla’s right. If I’m going to apologize, I’m going to name it. Own it.

“I’m sorry I chose my pops over you!” I shout. “I’m sorry I ever thought I had to choose between you two when Mario left!”

When the echo of her dribbling softens, I add, “I’m sorry I thought there were sides. I shouldn’t have let their relationship change ours.”

She watches the ball rather than me.

“And I’m sorry I abandoned you. I was an asshole.”

Aleah bounces the ball high one last time before catching it.

“You were young.”

“No, I don’t want any excuses for what I did.”

“Oh, I’m not giving you any,” she says pragmatically. “Simply pointing out facts. You were young. Undeveloped. I’m not saying you’re mentally capable of handling a real, honest friendship now.” I wince, hand to my chest, but she continues. “You’re trying, I guess. Y’know, with age hopefully comes growth.”

I smile. “Did you just drag me while low-key encouraging me?”

Her eye roll is instant. “I contain multitudes.”

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