We all froze with pens in hand. Given recent events, we might always be wary of any surprise announcements in our friend group.
“Ryan and I are getting a hairless cat!”
I let out a relieved sigh. “I thought you were pregnant.” Sumira glared at me. “What? Sorry!”
“That’s a great compromise,” Eva said.
“I’m happy for you, Ames,” I agreed.
“Thanks.” She beamed. “I’m getting a cat and keeping my husband!”
As Sumira fetched a fresh bottle of rosé from the fridge, I told them I had an announcement too.
I did a little drumroll on the table. “I got Jane her reporter job back! Wait, no—Jane did it herself, really. But I helped.”
“How did it happen?” Sumira refilled our glasses.
“You’re just telling us now?” Eva sounded indignant.
“I thought it might be nice to tell you in person.” I took a small, dignified sip of wine. In truth, it had felt awkward not to spill the beans to the group chat immediately. But I was trying for some growth and independence here.
“Okay, so tell us!” Amy prompted.
I told them about the story I’d written and how Jane got up thenerve to pitch it to her boss. And then I paused, choosing my next words carefully. “I kind of got the idea by thinking about what Christopher would do.” The words came out softly. I felt myself flush, and I grabbed another envelope and started scribbling an address on it.
“Christopher Butkus?” Sumira said blankly.
“Yeah.” I looked up, confused by her confusion. “I mean, I just thought about how he—he wrote me that letter and he likes grand gestures. And it inspired me to write the story for Jane.”
“Aw.” Amy tilted her head, as though I’d said something mildly amusing but somewhat pitiable.
“So, just to be clear”—Eva raised her eyebrows—“you’ve been thinking about Christopher and that letter he wrote you?”
“Yeah, it was—” I shook my head, regretting telling them about this at all. “It was just, like, a thought that I had. Not really important. The main thing is that Jane got her TV job back.”
I stuck a stamp on the envelope and grabbed another blank one. I could feel Eva’s eyes on me; I flicked my eyes upward and then looked back down to scrawl another address, my face burning now. Without looking, I could tell the three of them were sharing some kind of look, communicating without saying a word.
Stupid.It was pointless to mention Christopher. My friends had no idea I’d been thinking about him at all. Why did I have to bring him up again? They probably didn’t want to hear about him ever again after all the drama of a few months ago. And they were right! I shouldn’t bother them with my vague, unformed crush that wasn’t going to amount to anything. For once in my life, I needed to focus on my friends and not on myself. Especially Sumira: she was getting married, and I’d almost lost her friendship. All of my attention and energy needed to be on her now. I’d thought about myself enough for a lifetime. Several lifetimes.
I blinked, stamped the envelope I was holding, and glanced back at the three of them. They were all focused on the task at hand, though Sumira wore a trace of a smile. Probably just laughing at how boy crazy I was.
“Anyway.” I wanted to sound robustly sane. “Do we need to bring anything to yourmehndiparty besides our saris? Can we bring food or anything?”
“Nope, my mom is getting it catered, so don’t worry about a thing.”
“Great! I can’t wait. I’ve always wanted henna. In, you know, a non-cultural-appropriation-type way.”
Sumira rolled her eyes with a smile.
“I can’t believe it’s only three weeks away!” Amy said.
“I know. Actually, can you guys help me decide on my outfit for themehndi? I have a couple options.”
“Absolutely. Whatever you need.” I meant it. Sumira was the star of the show now, and I was going to be there for her.
CHAPTER 30
ON THIS DAY OFthe Turkey, I gave thanks to all the Rachels of my past. The conga-line Rachel. The naked biker Rachel. The Rachel who had a threesome with those two Canadians in Cancún, spring break 2011. (Ah, memories.) Because if it hadn’t been for all the Rachels who came before, I wouldn’t be the mature adult I was today.
