“You still like him?”
“As far as I know him, but… well, it hasn’t been the smoothest ride.”
“Does he know what day it is?”
I face her. “Do you?”
She scoots closer to me, bumping my hip, and puts her arm around my shoulders.
“Of course I do.”
Yesterday we spent the rest of the afternoon mostly talking about her stuff. Not much about Scott other than telling her everything that happened at his house. She tried to get me to talk about it more but I’d said all there was to say. I’m not sure how I feel and said so. I didn’t mention my dad’s birthday.
“You doing okay?”
“I got my gold star last night if that answers your question.”
“It doesn’t, but that’s okay.” She squeezes my shoulder and lets go.
Sarah doesn’t approve of my Star Chart. She thinks it’s about stifling emotions that should be let out. She’s one to talk.
“You seem tired. You sleep last night? Or run extra hard this morning?”
“I didn’t run.”
“You…” She shifts to face me. “You didn’t run?”
“No. I was… I was too… I don’t know. Too wobbly.”
“That’s… too bad…” Her voice softens. “You’re going to need your strength.”
I hear someone approach and sit down. A hard landing. Then a sniff. A productive sniff.
I’m only ninety-five percent sure who it is.
“Hey, Marissa,” Sarah says.
Sarah’s right, I don’t have the strength for this. I just waggle my hand.
“How are you doing?” Sarah asks.
Sniff.
Sarah tries again. “Is there something you want to talk about?”
Sniff.
“I have a question,” I say, surprising myself, since two seconds ago I was sure I was going to sit this one out. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you love Owen?”
“What do you mean? Why does anybody love anybody? You just do.”
“No,” I say, and Sarah is already clicking her tongue but I keep going. “There are always reasons. Does he know how you like your coffee? Does he take you to stupid romantic comedies just because you like them?”
“No, we don’t—”
“Is it the way he combs his hair, or how he wears socks that don’t match—”
“He doesn’t mix his socks.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know… It’s everything.”
“It’s okay,” Sarah says. “Parker means—”
I don’t let Sarah interrupt me.
“You like everything about him? All things? Name ten. No, name three.”
Sniff.
“Okay, one. Just one thing. We can start with that.”
“He… he laughs a lot. I love his laugh.”
“Okay, good. Do you love the sound of his laugh, or how much he laughs, or…?”
“All of that.”
“How about what he laughs at? What does he think is funny?”
“I don’t know… stuff. He laughs a lot, like he’s happy and having fun all the time.”
“You’re not, though. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh.”
“Parker,” Sarah says. “I think—”
“It doesn’t matter—those were trick questions. Knowing how someone likes their coffee isn’t love or you could be a barista and problem solved.”
“Marissa,” Sarah says. “I—”
“For a year I’ve been telling you what love isn’t but maybe I should’ve been telling you what it is. I have the perfect example right here; I love Sarah. I don’t want-to-have-sex-with-her love her, but I love her like crazy. I wish more than anything I knew how to make her happy again. If a genie gave me three wishes I’d use one to bring back my dad, another for my mom, and the last one wouldn’t be to see again; I’d wish for Sarah to be happy like she used to be. That’s what love is, Marissa. It’s not magic or voodoo. It’s real. You can explain it. I can tell you exactly why I love Sarah.”
I hold my hand out and, thank God, Sarah gently interlaces her fingers with mine.
“I had lots of friends when I was little but by the time I turned eight they were mostly gone. It turns out blind Parker with a dead mom wasn’t nearly as much fun as she was before the accident. I couldn’t run around and play and I cried all the time and knocked over everything and turned into a royal bitch and one by one my friends disappeared until there were only two left. I’m not saying they were the only people who understood me or were nice, just that they were the ones who didn’t go off and find easier people to be friends with. I love Sarah because she’s been my best friend and stayed that way when it got really really hard to be my friend at all.”
Sarah lays her head on my shoulder.