Satisfied, my mom turned toward Tyler. “You sure you don’t want another one, honey?”
“Oh no,” he said, patting his stomach. “It was awesome, but I’m stuffed.” He glanced sidelong at me, and I took another bite of the roll, washing down the sticky dough with a swig of black coffee, then stepped over to the refrigerator and pulled a few slices of roasted turkey from the deli drawer, hoping a quick influx of protein would keep my blood sugar from spiking and making me feel sick.
“I thought Liz could ride with us and you and Tyler could take his truck,” my mom said as she lifted her coat off the hook next to the back door. “I’m sure you kids want to catch up.” She raised her eyebrows, giving me a look laced with meaning, and I instantly regretted having told her about the fight I’d had with Tyler. I often vacillated between telling my mother everything and telling her nothing—if I shared everything, she automatically felt entitled to give me her opinion on what she thought I should do, and if I shared nothing, she poked and prodded for details about what was going on my life—a kind of verbal Chinese water torture—until I was tempted to make things up in order to get her to stop. Regarding the way I’d left things with Tyler in August, she’d said, “You can’t change the fact that he had deeper feelings for you than you had for him, but you two are so important to each other. You worked it out before—you can do it again, as long as you keep the lines of communication open. Don’t shut him out just because it’s easier than having the hard conversations.” She was right, I knew, so I resolved to bring up the argument on our way to the tree farm. I didn’t want the remainder of my two weeks at home to be strained beneath the weight of unspoken words.
“Sounds good,” Tyler said now, and a few minutes later, we were outside, greeting the clear morning. The sky was the bright kind of blue that forced me to squint when I looked up—there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Still, it was cold enough that the lawn was stiff with frost, and each breath we exhaled instantly turned into a puffy white mist. Fortunately, the heat was blasting inside Tyler’s truck. As the engine rumbled, I held my gloved hands up to the vent, my fingers already aching from just a few minutes exposed to the winter air.
“How’s work?” I asked as he backed out of our driveway, thinking this was as good a segue as any into a more meaningful conversation. After graduating high school two years before me, Tyler had decided to forgo attending a four-year university, instead opting to get his associate’s degree as an EMT, then entering the paramedic training program with the Bellingham fire department. He’d been working as an official paramedic for the last year, a career choice—considering his acrimonious relationship with his firefighting father—that I was still surprised he had made.
“It’s good,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. “Stressful, at times, but I’m learning a lot. My partner is great.”
“Mark, right?” I asked, trying to remember what he’d told me about the man he was working with.
“Mason,” he corrected. “He’s a cool dude. Supersmart. Been on the job for eight years, so he manages to teach me without making me feel like an idiot. His wife, Gia, just had a baby. You should meet them while you’re here.”
“Sure,” I said. “If I have time. You know my mom already has my entire visit planned down to the nanosecond.” I made my voice go high-pitched, in an exaggerated imitation of my mother. “?‘Cookie dough prep, nine thirty. Stringing popcorn and cranberries, ten forty-five. Watching Love Actually for the twenty-sixth time, twelve thirty-three. Bathroom break, one thirty.’?”
“If you’re lucky,” Tyler said, laughing.
“No joke. I swear she preps for the holidays the same way a football player gets ready for a new season, only her training camp consists of testing out recipes and browsing for decorating ideas on Pinterest.”
He kept laughing, so I decided to take advantage of this moment of levity between us. “So, are we good?” I said. “After . . . August?”
“Yeah,” he said. His voice was soft, but reassuring. He kept his eyes on the road, his large hands gripping the steering wheel. “Of course. I’ve missed you.”
“Me, too.”
“I was an asshole about you dating that guy,” he said as he drove past the Sunset Square Shopping Center, toward the Mount Baker Highway. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said. Even though he referred to Daniel as “that guy” instead of by name, I finally relaxed for the first time since seeing him last night. This was the Tyler I knew—my sweet, kind best friend. The texts he’d sent me over the last few months had been vaguely apologetic—“You know I just want what’s best for you, right?”—to which I’d send him a smiley face emoji in return. He’d never addressed that night in his apartment directly, but then again, neither had I. “I wasn’t exactly nice to you, either,” I said.
“I kind of deserved it. I just worry, you know? I want you to be happy. And safe.”
“Like any good big brother should.” I lightly punched his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
“You’re sure? You’re doing okay?” He glanced over to me again, letting his eyes travel the length of my body with a fleeting, but clearly assessing gaze. “You look good.”
“Thanks,” I said, through gritted teeth, knowing that “good” actually translated as “not too skinny.” My weight had been a topic of discussion for so many years, I dreaded every time a conversation even hinted at it. I’d worked hard to stay in the low end of a reasonable range, one that all the medical charts and my doctor said was healthy for someone my height, so the fact that my loved ones still seemed like they were still holding their breath, waiting for me to waste away again, was infuriating. The way they held on to the past, judging who I was now against the girl I used to be, made it all that much harder for me to leave her behind.
“You look good, too,” I told Ty, then paused, deciding to go ahead and risk asking about his dating life. “Are you seeing anyone?”
“Nope.” The edges of his tone were sharp enough that I knew not to push the subject. “You’re still with Daniel?” he asked, in an entirely different, lighter voice, and I took it as a good sign that he’d actually used my boyfriend’s name.
“Yeah.”
“It’s going well?”
“Yep,” I said, knowing that even though things felt better between us, it still wasn’t a smart idea to go into details of how amazing the relationship was. I certainly wasn’t going to tell Tyler that Daniel and I planned to move to Seattle together next fall. At least, not yet.
“That’s awesome,” Tyler said. “I hope things work out for you guys. Seriously.” He smiled, nodding his head as though lending emphasis to the sincerity of his words.
“Thanks,” I said again, giving him my best smile in return. But even as I did, I couldn’t help but wonder if Tyler truly meant what he said, or if, for the sake of our friendship, he was only telling me what he knew I needed to hear.
Tyler