More than ever, I’m worried we’re resurrecting a friendship that was never as grand as I made it out to be.
The sun goes down, and outside, the temperature drops. Slightly.
The bride and groom don’t seem to notice the cake isn’t precisely the one they ordered, and now that the dancing’s begun, my only job is to supervise. Wait and see if anyone needs anything.
For a couple of songs, I watch Rowan and Neil. Sometimes they dance wild, and sometimes they dance close, his hand fitting into the hollow of her lower back, her head on his shoulder. Then he dances with a smaller red-haired girl who must be his sister, which is adorable. His mom, Joelle, and her new husband, Christopher, won’t stop grinning at each other. It took a lot to get here, Neil had said. I’m glad they made it.
Tarek is standing across from me near another open window. Any other time, I’d go talk to him, make up a game, ask for extra food. But tonight… I’m not sure what to say. That might make me a bad friend, but he’s just going to have to deal with it until I figure things out.
“Hey.” I turn to see Rowan next to me. “Stating the obvious, I know, but wow is it boiling in here.”
“I was actually just thinking about getting some fresh air.”
“I might join you,” she says, and together we head to the upper deck, where one person is playing a game on their phone and another couple is gazing out at the water. The breeze is not insignificant, but after emerging from the lower-deck sweatbox, I welcome it.
The sky is dotted with stars, and Rowan tilts her head upward, exhales a dreamy sigh. “Romantic,” she says, more to herself than to me.
“Is it?” I ask, and it’s not meant to sound as combative as it does. Shit—I’m not her friend, even if it felt that way for a moment down there during the great cake rescue. I’m supposed to be a professional. “I mean, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s a wedding! Joelle is your…?”
“Boyfriend’s mom,” Rowan says, filling in what I already suspected. “We’ve been together for a little over a year now.”
“You guys are really cute.” Even I can admit there’s something sweet about the way they interact.
“Thank you,” she says. “We started dating right after high school, and then we were going to different colleges. I was worried about doing long-distance, but we made it work. We’d see each other on weekends when we could, talk almost every night on the phone. And then there was the, um, creative texting.” She blushes a little at that, which convinces me even more that she’s someone I could be friends with.
“What’s your major?”
“English. Creative writing, actually.”
“Did you always know you wanted to do that?”
“Sort of. I had to allow myself to want it, despite the judgment I knew I was going to get from other people. You’re starting college in September?” When I nod, she asks, “Any idea what you’re going to study, or are you completely sick of that question?”
I almost laugh. I haven’t been asked that question in a long time. I glance around, make sure no one up here can overhear us. “I can tell you what my parents want me to study.”
“I get the impression that’s different from what you want.”
“If only I knew what that was.”
“This seems like the time for me to give you some sage advice”—Rowan leans against the railing, shivering as the wind lifts the hem of her dress—“that I feel entirely ill-equipped to give. Follow your heart? Shoot for the moon? Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans? I don’t know if I have anything that wasn’t used on a motivational poster from the nineties.”
“Honestly?” I tell her. “It’s just good to tell someone.”
We watch the water in silence for a while, and it is good, I realize. I haven’t felt anywhere near this peaceful in a while, and it reminds me of how I felt at Maxine’s shop earlier this week. There, I made a decision. I told her what I wanted, even when it scared me.
With a jolt, I realize that’s what I have to do with Tarek: tell him I want a real and honest friendship. That I need to understand why we’re still so far away from it.
Even if the tiniest part of me wouldn’t be opposed to doing deeply unfriendly things to his mouth.
A figure approaches from the staircase, the moonlight catching his red hair. “Cold?” Neil asks Rowan, and she scrunches her face at him. He laughs and passes her his jacket. “Brought it up for you.” He tucks it over her shoulders, then uses the lapels to draw her close for a kiss.
Maybe it is romantic up here, the sea and the stars and the soft rocking of the boat below.
“I’ll leave you two,” I say, stepping back. “Have a great rest of your night. I really am happy for your mom.” And I mean it.
13
I descend back into sweaty boat hell, weaving around wedding guests, heading for Tarek on wobbly legs.
“Can I talk to you?” I ask. “Somewhere private?”
A furrow of his brow, like this doesn’t compute with his new idea of our friendship. “Sure. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just—yeah.” I take a moment to collect myself as he leads me downstairs, into what turns out to be a laundry room. The noise from above-deck is mostly muffled in here, and though it’s tiny, I guess it’ll have to do.
“You’re kind of freaking me out,” he says, leaning back against a washing machine. “You know you can talk
