You around?

Resting the phone in the space between my legs, I took a sip of coffee, letting the cool September breeze wash over me. The temperature had risen at least ten degrees since the last time I’d been outside on Saturday, and it was warm enough to wear my mom’s purple hoodie without a jacket. The sky was bright blue and dotted with cumulus clouds. When I was about eight, I went through a stage where I was certain my dad lived on a cloud. My mom taught me the different types: cumulus, stratus, cirrus, and so on. We collectively decided my father had taken up residence on a cumulus, because they were the coziest of all clouds and we wanted him to be comfy in his new home. Seventeen years later, I stared intently at one and pleaded for my father, if he was there, to give me some guidance. Help me find the story. I implored him to make me forget all about Finn like I had forgotten all the other boys. I had no reason to believe my dad was listening, but what was there to lose?

I jolted at the sound of my ringtone. Kate was FaceTiming me, which was the next best thing to an answer from my dad right now. “You didn’t have to call. Aren’t Monday mornings busy for you?” I said, which, in our secret best-friend language, translated to “Thank God you called. What took you so long? I need you!”

“Tuh! As if I can concentrate on work when my best friend’s love life is in turmoil.” She scowled at me and tugged a strand of the long, straight black hair she’d worn with the same middle part since we met. It was only recently she’d gone bold (her words, not mine) with red highlights.

Even glowering, her face on my phone at this moment was like chicken soup for my battered soul. “It’s bad, Kate.” The sweeping statement referred to everything: my love life, my career, and the imminent rent hike. “I don’t know what to do.”

She pressed her pale red–painted lips together. “Tell me everything.” It wasn’t a request. It was a command. “Start from the beginning.”

By the time I caught her up, my coffee was drained, and I was halfway through my second donut. I wiped the crumbs off my jeans, relaxed into the bench, and prepared for one of Kate’s incomparable pep talks.

Her face wrinkled up. “I need to go, but will you be around later?”

My lips moved, but no words came out. “Um…yeah?” I had overestimated her. This morning’s pep talk was incomparably ineffective. It was my fault for needing her services on a weekday. She also had her own problems, like failing the bar. It wasn’t fair to expect her to drop everything.