at me, touched me. “What if I can’t work with him after…what we did? What if I don’t want to draw a line, really?”
Diya gathered a stack of flash cards and began writing words on one side. “Well, first you be honest with yourself. For real honest. And then you be honest with everyone else.”
“That means telling Bea I’m not sure about…anything.”
“So?”
“She counts on me to be sure of things.”
Diya looked up and squinted at me. “I don’t mean this to come off as rude, but that’s some serious back-patting you’re doing. Look, we both knew Bea’s high-strung, but she also has a good head on her shoulders. She just needs to know what’s going on. She’ll be fine when she knows. Otherwise, she’ll imagine every possible bad scenario and they’ll all be, like, apocalypse level bad.”
“Oh Lord, that is exactly what she does.” I nodded.
“Right. So freaking call Bea, already. And then quiz me. I need someone to keep my brain on this stuff and off the upcoming holidays and you need to keep your grades up just in case the music doesn’t work out.”
“Um, the holidays are two months away.”
Diya stood and sighed. “I know. But it gets harder to go back every year, you know?”
“No, I don’t know.” Diya always talked about how much she loved to go home for the holidays. Her family ran a restaurant in Park City, Utah. Diya told stories about being in the kitchen with her dad and serving cute ski families. We all knew she loved to cook and loved the snow.
“It’s not a big deal. Just…my parents are so proud about med school but I don’t know. That might not be the right thing for me, after all. They don’t get it, though. ‘Do you want to work a hundred hours every week for your whole life making food?’ they say. Well, maybe I do!” Diya shook her head, her laugh fading into something a little sad. “Going home is a reminder of what I love but then I have to deal with them pushing me in a different direction. You get it, with your music and all. Anyway . You make your phone call. I’ll see you when you’re done.”
“Right.” I gave Diya a mock salute and went into the hallway.
I toyed with my phone for several minutes, thinking about how to start this conversation. Bea and I had never gotten into a real fight before. We’d argued over what movie to see or snipped over trivial things, but this felt deeper. We weren’t talking at all. Hadn’t in several days. And I could see why this created a bigger division than anything else: it was tied to our dreams. Things we desperately wanted. Perhaps most importantly, we needed each other to succeed, and that made us feel vulnerable. Easier to ruffle.
In the end, though, it was all over a simple misunderstanding, wasn’t it? I hadn’t known who he was the first time. And I hadn’t known he wanted to go through with a trial for our band until the morning after our second meeting. Still, I could see how my one-on-one time with Jimmy Keats would upset Bea. It might have upset me, too, were I in her shoes. There was more to it than I was admitting to myself and to Bea, and I needed to clear that up. With both of us. And I would, once I’d figured it all out. For now, though, I just had to say sorry. My stomach leaped with nerves. I couldn’t lose my best friend. Not over this. I dialed Bea’s number.
She picked up on the first ring. I couldn’t keep a grin back. A new, light feeling exploded in my chest. The first ring. I knew everything was going to be okay.
“Let me explain and don’t interrupt,” I said by way of greeting. Then I told her the same things I told Diya, and more. I said I was confused about what to do with my life. I told her I was scared. I even told her that Jimmy Keats unnerved me. Made me want to do sweetly dangerous things.
She didn’t say I told you so or give me crap about coming around on the whole pop music thing I used to always say I despised. She didn’t even pull me up for
Diya gathered a stack of flash cards and began writing words on one side. “Well, first you be honest with yourself. For real honest. And then you be honest with everyone else.”
“That means telling Bea I’m not sure about…anything.”
“So?”
“She counts on me to be sure of things.”
Diya looked up and squinted at me. “I don’t mean this to come off as rude, but that’s some serious back-patting you’re doing. Look, we both knew Bea’s high-strung, but she also has a good head on her shoulders. She just needs to know what’s going on. She’ll be fine when she knows. Otherwise, she’ll imagine every possible bad scenario and they’ll all be, like, apocalypse level bad.”
“Oh Lord, that is exactly what she does.” I nodded.
“Right. So freaking call Bea, already. And then quiz me. I need someone to keep my brain on this stuff and off the upcoming holidays and you need to keep your grades up just in case the music doesn’t work out.”
“Um, the holidays are two months away.”
Diya stood and sighed. “I know. But it gets harder to go back every year, you know?”
“No, I don’t know.” Diya always talked about how much she loved to go home for the holidays. Her family ran a restaurant in Park City, Utah. Diya told stories about being in the kitchen with her dad and serving cute ski families. We all knew she loved to cook and loved the snow.
“It’s not a big deal. Just…my parents are so proud about med school but I don’t know. That might not be the right thing for me, after all. They don’t get it, though. ‘Do you want to work a hundred hours every week for your whole life making food?’ they say. Well, maybe I do!” Diya shook her head, her laugh fading into something a little sad. “Going home is a reminder of what I love but then I have to deal with them pushing me in a different direction. You get it, with your music and all. Anyway . You make your phone call. I’ll see you when you’re done.”
“Right.” I gave Diya a mock salute and went into the hallway.
I toyed with my phone for several minutes, thinking about how to start this conversation. Bea and I had never gotten into a real fight before. We’d argued over what movie to see or snipped over trivial things, but this felt deeper. We weren’t talking at all. Hadn’t in several days. And I could see why this created a bigger division than anything else: it was tied to our dreams. Things we desperately wanted. Perhaps most importantly, we needed each other to succeed, and that made us feel vulnerable. Easier to ruffle.
In the end, though, it was all over a simple misunderstanding, wasn’t it? I hadn’t known who he was the first time. And I hadn’t known he wanted to go through with a trial for our band until the morning after our second meeting. Still, I could see how my one-on-one time with Jimmy Keats would upset Bea. It might have upset me, too, were I in her shoes. There was more to it than I was admitting to myself and to Bea, and I needed to clear that up. With both of us. And I would, once I’d figured it all out. For now, though, I just had to say sorry. My stomach leaped with nerves. I couldn’t lose my best friend. Not over this. I dialed Bea’s number.
She picked up on the first ring. I couldn’t keep a grin back. A new, light feeling exploded in my chest. The first ring. I knew everything was going to be okay.
“Let me explain and don’t interrupt,” I said by way of greeting. Then I told her the same things I told Diya, and more. I said I was confused about what to do with my life. I told her I was scared. I even told her that Jimmy Keats unnerved me. Made me want to do sweetly dangerous things.
She didn’t say I told you so or give me crap about coming around on the whole pop music thing I used to always say I despised. She didn’t even pull me up for
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