Page 221 of What We Brave
"That's what happened with Joyce," I say. "At the market. It wasn't about Joyce. Joyce already knew. Joyce waswonderful." I close my eyes. "But I'd been carrying every look from every stranger all morning. And when I saw someone I love walking toward me, my body just — it simplified. Drop a hand. Make the picture smaller. Stop being the woman with two men. Just be... normal."
"And Blake was the hand you dropped."
"Blake is always the hand I'd drop." My eyes are burning. "Because Reid and I have history. He's familiar. And Blake — Blake is where the math starts. He's where the picture gets complicated. And Ihatethat. I hate that I've turned him into the complication when he's?—"
I stop. Press my hands to my face.
"When he's what?" she asks gently.
"When he's the reason any of it works." It's true. He's the stability. The quiet presence that makes us make sense.
We sit with that for a while. The food's definitely cold now. Jamila tops off both our glasses without asking — from her bottle, because mine wasn't worth finishing.
"So what are you going to do?" she says.
"I don't know. Keep practicing. Keep showing up. Get better at not?—"
"I'm not talking about the market, Laine."
She's looking at me. That steady, clear-eyed look that probably makes her terrifying in a boardroom. It's a look I can't escape.
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about—" She looks around the apartment. Slowly. Deliberately. The clean counters. The empty dish rack. The bare windowsill. "This."
"Mila—"
"When's the last time you actually ate a meal here?"
"I eat here."
"When?"
"I had—" I stop. Think. "There's chips in the?—"
"Oh, perfect." She's already up, opening the pantry. She moves aside the tea bags, the jar of crystallized honey, a sleeve of rice cakes. Pulls out the bag of tortilla chips. Opens them. Bites one.
Her face does a thing.
"Laine."
"What?"
"When did you buy these chips?"
"I don't know. A few weeks ago?"
She turns the bag around. Reads. Looks at me with those eyebrowsup again. I swear she could have a whole conversation with those things.
"These expired last month."
"They did not."
"They did."
"...They're probably fine."
"They are not fine. They taste like salted cardboard." She sets the bag down. "Laine. Do you actuallylivehere?"
