“Ha ha,” I say. “Quinn failed to mention you’d be coming over. But it’s good to see you. Really.” Is it? I take in Sam, the diffused light like an aura. Their hair is cut into a shorter afro than I remember it, their large brown eyes incandescent, even more visible. “Wish you had hit me up earlier, though. Didn’t expect to get iced out by you, of all people.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stuff them back in. But honestly, it feels good to scold someone.

They’re so unfazed, they don’t even blink. “Friendship is a two-way street. I was sick of your shit. I invited you to all my photo shows for months and you never even bothered to RSVP no. Then, last year when I told you my mom was sick, you didn’t even check in. You expect everyone to drop their shit when, what, you lose your job? Miss me with that.” They’re not saying it with any bitterness, just so matter-of-factly that I can’t even build a retort. I never even went to their artists’ residency in Hudson, so close to my mom’s place.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m tempted to yell out that God, it was more than a job loss. But Sam is right, even if they’re being snarky about it. Before my whole mess, I really did let my career dictate how I treated everyone else. And I miss that, that all-encompassing activity that lit up every part of my brain. But I need allies right now. “You’re right. You’re right, okay? I’m... I’m sorry.”

They nod in my direction. “Normally, I would ask for a better apology than that, but you have been put through a bit of a wringer, so I’ll take it. Wanna hear what I’ve been up to or what?” I nod and they tell me, stretching their legs out, ankles crossed, getting themself comfortable like they’ll be around for a while. They have an exhibition coming up at Rubber Factory, photographs of the Black community in Woodlawn, Chicago, where their dad is from, a community that’s slowly getting displaced, and they’re still freelancing, doing graphic design stuff for various small companies, right now a Black-owned gardening company. The residency was good for them, they say; a good respite from the city.