Losing my
best friend.
We met at our old high school football field afterward. The gates were open, so we climbed under the bleachers and sat on the grass.
Jeffrey leaned back against a metal support.
“We’re bad at this.”
“Dating?”
“Choosing people.”
I laughed.
“We’re bad at this.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “What if we never get it right?”
“We’ll survive.”
“What if we’re both single forever?”
I looked at him. Then Jeffrey held out his pinky.
“If we’re both single at 60, we’ll stop being
idiots and find each other.”
I stared at his hand.
He wasn’t laughing anymore.
“Jeffrey.”
“I’m serious.”
“What if we never get it right?”
“Why 60?”
“Because if we haven’t figured things out by then, we obviously need help.”
I hooked my pinky around his.
“Deal.”
He smiled.
“Deal.”
For one second, neither of us moved.
