Part of her wants to let Blaze bubble over and finally confront Chi about being a shitty friend, but now is not the time. She needs an ally more than she needs an apology.

“By the way, did you get my thank-you card?”

“Mm hm,” Chi nods, as she picks at her croissant.

“The flowers you sent were beautiful.” Kavita omits their untimely toss into the garbage. “Thanks again. I’m sorry you couldn’t make it to the memorial.”

Chi flashes an insecure grin. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. Emerg is like—”

“A refugee camp?”

They share a faint smile.

“It’s okay,” she says. “I understand.” Kavita pushes onward despite the insistence of the warning beacon. “I’m sorry we haven’t gotten together any sooner. I guess I’ve been in my own little world. It’s great to see you, though. I’ve been bursting to vent with someone. So much has happened recently. To be honest, things have been really hard.” There, she’s done it. The hardest part. She’s reached out. Please Chi, she thinks. Reach back.

“Aw,” Chi says with a cloying half smile, half pout. Reaching across the table, she pats Kavita’s hand a few times, then pulls away abruptly, as if suddenly remembering the grief germs. “Are you sure you don’t want any of this croissant?” she asks. “I don’t usually like coffee shop pastries, but this one isn’t bad. Seriously, have some. You’d be doing me a favour!” Chi breaks into a plastic laugh.

Hope falls from her eyes. “No, thanks.” She doesn’t want a half-eaten croissant. Or to be distracted. What she wants is to talk openly about horror and hopelessness and shame. What she wants is for her friend to reach back.

With a level stare, she watches as Chi finishes the last triangle of her croissant, patiently awaiting something more, something solid to hold on to.

“Crazy story,” Chi says, brushing off her fingertips. “So, I’m on rotation at the Civic. Well, a guy comes in with a thumb that’s so infected it’s turned black. I kid you not. The smell alone was enough to make me hurl. I mean, who even lets an infection get that bad? Honestly, if I were that stupid, I’d kill myself. ”

As Kavita stares across the table, she wonders if it is possible to be both astonished, and not, at the same time.

Chi natters on about something else med-school related, but Kavita stops listening. She knows now that her friend isn’t comfortable speaking openly about horror and hopelessness and shame. Her friend would rather pretend such things don’t exist. And perhaps they don’t in her world. At least not as they do for Kavita. It occurs to her, bleakly, she really is alone in this.