Page 10 of Let It Be Me

I laugh. She’s not wrong. I don’t buy into woo-woo shit—and there’ve been a lot of unfulfilled wishes since that night—but if there was ever a time to believe in magic, those nights of holding her hand in the dark are it. “So you still want to play Xbox?” I ask. “Because I don’t.”

“Not really. Watch a movie instead?”

I make a face.

“Fine. You leave me no choice. Liner notes?”

“Let’s do it.”

Once,during a snow day in middle school, we raided my attic and came across a massive tower of dusty CDs that belonged to my parents in the nineties. We hadn’t known liner notes were a thing that existed and, in our teenage search for cool shit that seemed meaningful, we were totally absorbed in reading the text and poring over the photographs. Every once in a while, when it’s just us and there’s nothing else to do, we return to it like comfort food.

“Remember this one?” Ruby pulls a cracked CD case from the shoebox on the floor between us—“Rid of Me” by PJ Harvey.

“You were obsessed with that. Remember you wrote some of the lyrics in Sharpie on your backpack and your dad hauled you into his office?”

She stretches her slender legs out in front of her. “Good times.”

I slide a Pearl Jam album back into the box. “So I followed your future husband today.”

“Brad?” She can’t help but smile at his name. “Like on social media?”

“Like in person. I trailed him.”

She barks out a laugh. “Why would you do that?”

“Just sniffing for dirt.”

“You told me he was a nice guy.”

“No, I said he was awhiteguy. A boring white guy. That’s what I said.”

She chuckles and rolls her eyes. “I don’t get why you dislike him all of a sudden.”

“He’s just not your type.”

“I don’t have a type.”

“Sure you do. Brooding. Unstable. Loves the feel of cold handcuffs clicking into place around his meaty wrists.”

“Gross. Keep your jerk-off fantasies to yourself.”

“I bet Brad has never even smelled the inside of a county jail. You’re really attracted to a kid like that?”

“Maybe if he hangs out with me long enough, he’ll get the chance.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively.

“So are you going to ask if I dug up any dirt on him?”

“No!”

“Glad you asked.”

“I didn’t.” She sorts through the CDs.

“I found something pretty interesting.”

She pauses. “Are you messing with me?”

“Actually, if you want to get technical, what he did was the opposite of interesting. But that’s what you signed up for, so ...”

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