The Psychology of Falling in Love

I.

Mature Content

"Jesus, what is in this box, St. James?"

I chuckled as I hopped up the stairs behind the whining woman. Imani was hunched over, panting and resting the box on the lip of a step. With a firm kick to her backside I sent her tumbling up the stairs. The box flew through the air and landed with a heavy thud onto the landing above my best friend's head. Books spilled out of the haphazardly put-together cardboard enclosure.

"Books," I giggled, running my hand through my hair. "Do you know what books are, Imani?"

Her eyes, a brilliant shade of burnt umber, glared down at me. Her tanned skin was flushed red, thanks to the summer heat. Right as she opened her mouth to retort, her wife's voice called out to us: "Imani! Claire! Stop messing around."

We shared a sideways glance, our lips pursing at the same time. We fought hard to swallow our laughter as we cleaned up the academic slaughter of criminological journals and encyclopedias. Imani's face scrunched at the titles of the works she was packing away, causing me to snort as I remembered her absolutely unnecessary disdain for my passion- "I would rather read Charles Dickens ten times over than this drool, Claire St. James!"

As we shuffled into my new apartment, we heard Alayna humming in the kitchen. We were akin to a slightly inefficient assembly line- Imani and I brought the boxes up the 4 flights of stairs, cursing the fact that I did not find a place with an elevator; Alayna worked endlessly, finding homes for my things in the nooks and crannies of my one bedroom apartment.

There was no one I would trust more. Alayna had a wonderful knack for understanding Feng Shui. While the general concept escaped my reach of understanding, her talent did lead to amazingly convenient and beautiful room layouts.

Once the feng had been shui'd accurately in each room, Alayna departed to pick up their son Eli. Imani and I collapsed onto the living room couch, our bones seeping into the gray fabric. I could feel the sweat accumulating on my scalp.

"Well, I think that's everything," Imani mumbled. "You look like a sewer rat, Claire. I suggest a shower."

I glanced over at her and smiled cheekily. I knew my shaggy hair was slick and frizzy, but Imani truly didn't look any better. Her shoulder-length brown hair was full of curly-cues and spirals, her skin flushed with exertion. As my gaze lingered on my best friend, my thoughts traveled to our journey through life and how she had always been there to help me pick up the fractured pieces of my being.

"I'm really thankful, you know," I whispered, tears stinging my eyes. "For everything. Even after so long. And your wife-Alayna is just-she's amazing. And Eli is just like you."

Imani scooted closer and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. "What are friends for, Claire? I'm just glad to have you back again. And Alayna and Eli love you. Probably more than me, which is bullshit."

I laughed and wiped the wetness away from underneath my eyes. We sat there in silence, which allowed me to finally soak in the freedom and geographical expanse between my old and new lives. The lump in my throat ached, desperate for emotional release.

"Who knows, Claire Bear. Maybe this is the new start you need," Imani said, kissing my temple. "If you need anything, let me know, okay? I should head home and help with Eli and dinner."

"Okay," I murmured, internally cursing myself for the shakiness of my voice. I cleared my throat and flashed Imani the best grin I could muster. "Okay. I'll let you know."

With a reluctant smile and a groan, Imani stood up slowly and made her way towards the door. As soon as it closed, the emptiness of my apartment washed over me. This would be the first time I've lived alone, ever. Not once in my 32 years have I had the opportunity to spread my wings.