We stand at the threshold, taking each other in like maybe this is the last time we’ll be able to. It feels far more dramatic than it should, and all I’m really thinking about is that day in her house and how she said goodbye to me in her doorway by brushing my hair behind my ear. I feel goosebumps erupt on my skin just at the thought.

“Tea?” I push past her into the kitchen.

“Sure.”

I put the kettle on and pick out two mugs from the cabinet, getting them ready with tea bags.

“Do you want to sit?”

Flávia looks at the stiff wooden chairs against the dining table and nods. She slips into one, looking out of place and uncomfortable. I bring the tea to her, and take my place on the opposite side of the table.

“So …”

“So …”

She cradles her mug in her hand, but doesn’t take a sip. I didn’t even ask her how she likes her tea, I realize. I just made it the way I make it for myself. I should have asked. Now she’ll have a horrible cup of tea that she can’t even drink and maybe that’ll be the only thing she’ll remember about me and our relationship. I’ll be the girl she kissed who smelled like henna and made her horrible tea and made her sit in a terribly uncomfortable chair through an even more uncomfortable silence because conversation was too difficult for her.

“I think—” I say at the same time that she says, “I’ve been thinking—”

We both pause. Catch each other’s eye. Smiles spread across our faces simultaneously.

Flávia reaches her hand across the table until her fingers find mine. She laces them together. Our hands fit perfectly together. Hers is still cold from outside. Mine is warm from the tea.

“I’ve been thinking about what happened today and … I’m sorry. I should have come to you. Spoken to you. Texted you. Something. I mean, it wasn’t Chyna, but she wasn’t exactly sad about it. She’s been saying stuff about you for a long time now.” She grips my hand tighter. “It’s just that I’ve been so afraid they’ll all turn around and do the same to me if I speak up. That they’ll know. I’m … not ready for anyone to know yet.”

I exhale. My decision pieces together in my mind, like a puzzle finally coming together.

“I understand.”

“You do?” She raises an eyebrow.

“I do, but …”

She sighs. “There it is.”

“I just don’t think I can deal with it right now. Not with everything going on and … with Chyna being your cousin … I just … I can’t pretend and hide. I can’t sneak around for you. I can’t—”

“I’m not asking—”