“Because you’re secretly an alien,” Justine supplies.
I ignore her.
“Why is it so fucking hard for me?” I groan, before quickly pointing a finger at the computer. “And don’t say, ‘That’s what she said!’”
“Okay, I’ll just think it then.”
I drag my hands down my face. “You are theworst,Justine Muanda. I don’t know why I hang out with you.”
“You hang out with me because I am your soul mate and there is nothing you can do to deny it.” Now it’s her turn to point a finger at me. “So are you going to stop being a drama queen for five minutes, or do I have to come through this screen and push your awkward, bumbling, loveable ass off that bed and knock some sense into you?”
I really do wish she could come through the screen right now, even if it resulted in me getting my ass kicked. We moved to different cities for university, and not a day goes by when I don’t wish I could have her by my side. Tackling social anxiety is a lot easier when you’ve got a best friend at your back, but part of the reason I came to Montreal was to prove to myself that I could do things on my own. I could have followed Justine to Kingston and spent four years rooming with her, living in the same bubble as ever, but I chose not to let my fucked up brain get the best of me, no matter how many embarrassing moments it resulted in along the way.
“I could maybe hold back on the drama queen thing for five minutes,” I tell her, “but that’s it, so say whatever you’ve got to say now.”
“Good. I need you to help me figure out my scheduling conflict. Do I keep taking Practical Biochemistry on Monday mornings, or do I switch it out for Intro to Environmental Toxicology and get a head start on my requisites for next year?”
We’re only a week into the semester, and she’s already talking about getting a head start on next year. As a sociology major with a minor in art history, I don’t have much to contribute to the conversation besides agreeing that a hot TA is most definitely a good enough reason to stay in a class.
“Molly! Hello, Earth to Molly!”
I stop absently nodding when I notice Justine waving at me on the screen.
“I just asked you what else you’re doing today. That’s requires more than a nod for an answer.”
“Oh, right. Uh...I’m probably going to eat food?”
Justine snorts and then adjusts her computer screen so she can see me better.
“You okay, girl?” she asks. “I know I told you I was going to kick your ass if you kept whining, but if you really have a problem, you know you can talk to me, right?”
“I know. I’m fine. Really.”
Sometimes my awkward encounters—like the one I just had with Stéphanie—send me into this downward spiral of self-loathing that makes it hard to concentrate on anything other than what a fool I’ve made of myself. I know it’s unhealthy and self-indulgent, but it’s a track my brain seems to run on default. Conversations are like quicksand for me: I start to struggle when I realize I’m sinking, and that just sucks me even farther down into the mud.
“Okay,” Justine says skeptically. “You’re a hot tamale, girl. It doesn’t matter what other people think, as long asyoubelieve that’s true.”
I wave her encouragement off. “You sound like you’re giving a cheesy TED Talk, but thanks.”
“You just wait. One day Iwillbe giving a TED Talk, and it willnotbe cheesy at all.”
I don’t doubt that. I’m surprised her school hasn’t already made her some kind honorary professor. They’ve already given her a full scholarship and a resume’s worth of awards.
“Is it noon already?” I ask, glancing at the clock at the bottom of my screen. “I haven’t eaten anything besides a banana today. I should probably refuel myself before it gets too hot to move.”
“And I should get back to my essay,” Justine adds.
I don’t bother asking how she’s already got an essay to start this early in the school year. She’s probably working on plans for her doctorate before even finishing her undergrad.
“I’ll talk to you on Wednesday,” she tells me. “Love you, girl!”
“Back at ya, you nerd.”
She ends the call and the video window goes black. I sit up and consider putting pants on, but end up trudging to the kitchen in my granny panties to see if I can find something to cook.
