Thankfully at this hour, it’s not quite blazing hot just yet. But give it forty-five minutes and the sun combined with the smog will turn the wire chair I’m sitting on into a waffle iron. For now, I find a shady spot near a water bowl for Leno as I take the first sip of my latte. The caffeine hits me instantly, the way a sip of wine at happy hour takes the edge off a crazy day. Today, arguably, is going to be the craziest considering the morbid tabs I’m about to open.

Hey, how did last night go? Brian’s text lights up my Apple Watch just as I’m typing the words nearby mausoleum into Google.

When I’d told Brian I’d get back to him today about visiting the urn, I hadn’t thought I’d be in the shit with my work. But as tempted as I am to brush him off—again—I also realize there’s a good chance I’m going to put this whole urn thing to bed today. I mean, I have to if I want to go back to work.

Realizing that this may be one of the last times I have the urn in my possession and can meet Brian somewhere neutral for him to see it (or whatever he wants to do with it), I decide to cave on his request.

If you want to see Decker, I’m at Alfred’s having coffee rn on the back patio.

Moments later, the world’s fastest texter who actually has a very important job writes back: Perfect timing! I have a break in rounds. I can be there in 15.

While I’m still alone, I attempt to pull up Brian’s Facebook profile. But when I type in his name, it shows that I “unfollowed” him. In tech speak, that means we remained connected as Facebook friends, but under this setting, he never showed up in my feed.

I remember doing this because at the time, I hadn’t wanted to see where he was gallivanting off to in his impeccably tailored Banana Republic short-sleeved button-downs, or what concerts he was checking in front-row at with other friends from the frat, or his next relationship conquest. All of that would have been proof that another person close to Decker was able to bounce back and live a normal life and that I...hadn’t. I was still stuck in a constant state of being mad and angry and sad. Like a bad soundtrack on repeat.

There’s also another reason I unfollowed him. A very specific reason. A reason that I’m hoping he’s forgotten now that we’ll be sitting face-to-face for the first time in years.

As I stare at his profile picture, his smiling face is like a shiny fishing lure drawing me in. Whether I’m ready for it or not, I’m curious for more. So, I uncheck the “unfollow” box and his profile comes into full, bright view like a surprise party.

On the top of his wall is a pinned post reminding everyone about a fraternity fund-raiser. Probably the one Debbie mentioned. I had forgotten for a minute just how much of a frat boy Brian really is and can’t decide if it’s admirable or sad that nearly a decade after graduation, he’s still the social chairman of the group.