them • ✓

Part 38: matter

A whole week went by without either boy or girl making any contact. On the eighth day, the girl and her friend sat at Starbucks drinking matching green tea frappuccinos, whipped with cream.

The friend was ranting about the History assignment, but the girl wasn't listening. Her eyes had caught sight of a head of hair — so familiar to the boy's. But when he turned around, it wasn't him.

The friend stopped talking Hey ... Hello? Are you there?

The girl turned back to her friend Yes — sorry, I'm here.

The friend looked over her shoulder to follow the girl's gaze, but finding nothing, she turned back around. She knew what she was thinking about, anyway.

Are you gonna call him? the friend asked, with calculated wariness.

What? No the girl answered What do you mean?

The friend fingered her empty frappuccino. She'd had enough of this — it was a taboo subject she knew, but if the girl didn't face her problems now she'd never get it out of the way.

Look, do you love him? the friend asked.

The girl looked up from her drink. Her eyes landed on her friend, dull and almost bitter Of course I love him.

The friend replied Then forgive him. He said he was sorry.

The girl breathed through her nose Prison! Did you hear me? Drugs and prison and smoking ... he didn't tell me.

Would you? the friend shot at her, but the girl insisted that was entirely different. She insisted she wouldn't be there in the first place.

A moment of silence passed. The girl stirred her still half-full frappe with a straw.

Do you love him? the friend asked again, lower, slower.

The girl looked slowly up into her eyes.

Yes the girl said.

Really? the friend encouraged.

Yes! the girl exclaimed.

Then what does it matter? the friend went on Go to him. Get him, tiger. He's yours for the taking.

For a minute the girl just sat there very still, staring at her friend. Her gaze flickered to the drink in her hand. And then she let go.

I love you she told her friend, and stood up I love you so much.

I know the friend replied but the girl had already walked away. Fast. Out the doors of Starbucks and into the cool breeze. Her mind was a whir of thoughts and emotions and conflicts, but — her friend was right.

She loved him. What did it matter?

She loved him.