Well, that had gone well. Greta decided to try it again. “I’m scared because I don’t want you to think that I’m only moving because of you and put some weird pressure on our relationship,” Greta said.

“I can see why,” Carys said. “I believe you.”

“Fuck!” Greta exclaimed. “Holy fucking fuck, I really can say what I want.”

Carys winced. “You totally can! Only, if you could just not yell it for, like, twenty-four hours, that would be amazing.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Greta said softly, dropping kisses on Carys’ curls.

“Hey,” Carys said, catching her face in her hands. “I’m really proud of you for wanting to change. And thanks for hearing me out and understanding.”

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry again about messing up today.”

“Forgiven.”

Greta kissed her softly and tucked her curls behind her ear. “I gotta do something,” Greta said, standing up. “I can’t leave messages on my mom’s phone or text my sisters. That’s what I would’ve done before.”

Before flickered in her mind like a black-and-white high school yearbook photo, demarcated from After, where she stood in the present, in full, glorious, present color.

“I need to go home and tell them. I need to be honest.”

“I really admire your emotional integrity,” Carys said.

“What does that mean?” Greta was very much liking this whole say-what-you-mean thing.

“Um, people talk a lot about being honest, but honesty on its own is just kind of telling the truth about concrete things. But emotions are things you need to be honest about too, and some people can tell the technical truth about what happened or what they said without honoring their feelings. Without having emotional integrity.”

“I think I’ve only had it once in my whole damn life.”

“When was that?”

“Ugh. I was totally in love with my high school best friend, Tabitha.”

Tabitha had been a constant in Greta’s life from elementary through high school. They’d been best friends, confidantes, partners in crime. Tabitha, an only child, loved to sleep over with Greta’s large, chaotic family. When her family made Greta want to scream, she sought out the calm and quiet of Tabitha’s.

Somewhere along the way—she couldn’t be sure exactly when, because it had grown as slowly and naturally as a plant in early spring—Greta realized that her feelings for Tabitha were more. Tabitha knew Greta was queer. Greta was pretty sure that Tabitha was not. So she said nothing. Besides, Tabitha was her person. She couldn’t risk losing her.