“Contrary to what you think, we aren’t born to sit and wait for the bad stuff to happen. We aren’t born to die. But . . . but it happens to all of us. And what that means is we’re gonna lose people along the way, people that matter a whole lot, people we can’t imagine living without. We die, Jamal. And it’s okay. You can talk about it. We can talk about it. Otherwise, it’s gonna eat you whole, man. Instead, we need to be living the best we can. Without fear, when we can help it. Without anxiety, when possible. And carrying as little grief as humanly possible, okay?” He grabs my shoulders. “But you gotta stop walking around like you’re dead because you are killing everyone, man. Because all of us are tired of watching you self-sabotage and self-destruct. Because it’s awful wondering when you’re gonna finally succeed and blow up into a gazillion pieces. Because your pieces are great, J. Because when your pieces are clicking . . . when they’re really humming . . . they’re some fucking rad pieces, man. They are. You are alive. And it’s okay. It’s more than okay. It’s great. Let it be great.”

And I can’t hear any more, but also I want to hear it all again.

And I grab Q and at first he’s pushing me, pushing me, but for the first time I can remember in forever I don’t just give up, I’m holding tight, tight, and he’s way stronger than me, but I’m feisty, I’m resilient when I need to be, when I want to be, and I hold on, man. I hold on tight. And he could flick me away easily if he wanted, but he doesn’t, and that’s something.

And then, after dozens of people give us weird looks as they pass by, he finally hugs me back.

Okay, more like he kinda pats my back.

With like the very tips of his fingers.

And we stand there.

Eliciting an innumerable amount of weird stares.

My arms locked around him, and him kinda fingertip-patting my back.

And no, I can’t tell you for how long.

Because duration—how long a good thing lasts—is never the point.

“Can I ask you one more thing before we end this therapy session?”

He gives me a look, like shoot.

“What made you change your mind? What made you come today?”

“Autumn told me that I wouldn’t have real peace until I forgave you.”

More confirmation I don’t deserve her.