If any hat could be made for Kim, it was the ridiculous atrocity she’d placed on her head. Kim was above average in height, a head taller than my five feet, seven inches. Her short, caramel- colored hair framed her face in care free waves. Crazy and unpredictable as she was, people were drawn to her. I knew we would be friends the moment I met her in the hallway of Andrews; I couldn’t fathom having someone more interesting in my life.

Kim walked with me across campus to class, keeping my mind from more somber thoughts by regaling me with her most recent week of fantastic mishaps and blunders. She never failed to entertain me with her unbridled honesty and lack of brain-to-mouth filter.

Once in class, Kim leaned toward me and kept her voice low. “So, the funeral….”

I squirmed in my seat. “I...don’t really want to….”

“Oh, right. Yeah. So…it was yesterday?” Unlike Beth, Kim didn’t avoid unpleasantness. At times she seemed to slam face first into it with a smile on her face.

“Yes,” I sighed. “It was very nice.”

“Very nice,” Kim echoed, nodding. “I tried to call you last night. You didn’t answer.”

“I didn’t get in until late. I missed the last bus and ended up taking a cab.”

Kim eyed me with disbelief. “The last bus? I didn’t know public transportation had a curfew.” I considered that for a moment before she continued. “Why didn’t you drive? Your mother picked you up, didn’t she?”

“I ended up sharing a cab.”

“With your mom?”

“No, Kim. Not with my mom,” I deadpanned. “I met a man at the bus stop. We both missed the bus.” I didn’t confess that I’d had a momentary conscious black out and let the bus pull away.

“You shared a cab with some random guy at the bus stop? Interesting.”

“Not everyone’s stories end with a dramatic punch line like yours. We just shared a cab,” I said, trying to make my answer sound final.

“Was he old?”

I rolled my eyes. “No.”

“Ugly?”

“No, Kim. He was nice.”

“I didn’t ask if he was nice. So…he was cute, young…and?”

“Jack’s funeral was yesterday, Kim. I was a mess,” I said, feeling my eyebrows pull together.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” I asked, exasperated.

“Call your dad ‘Jack’? I thought you were close?”

“We are. We were. I don’t know…because that’s his name?” Kim stared at me, unimpressed with my answer. I began again, “It’s always felt weird calling him Dad to other people. Just like I wouldn’t call a boyfriend ‘Honey’ to you. It’s just…personal.”

“That’s weird, Nina.”

“Well, you are the authority on weird.”

Kim nodded, unaffected by my insult. “So who was the mystery guy? Does he go here?”