My vibrating phone pulled me from the edge. I slid it from the pocket of my Levi’s seeing my best friend calling. Without hesitation, I answered, hoping she could make sense of the situation I’d found myself in.

“Art.”

“Hey, babe. What’s up?”

“Nothing.” I sighed. “Just finished another check-in with the team.”

“Was it that bad?” she probed. “You sound disappointed.”

“It went well.”

“Good, then what’s the matter?”

Our parents had been best friends since high school. They all left Clarke for college immediately after. It was a basement party for a mutual’s return to the city after graduating that brought them all back together. My mother and Art’s mom. My father and Art’s father.

The two pairs of best friends reconnected over punch that was heavily infused with cheap liquor, handheld bites to eat, and Blues. Though the party ended, None of them were ready to go home, so they continued their shenanigans at my father’s brand new, unfurnished studio apartment with a three-dollar box of pizza and a one-liter Coke in tow. My mother never left after that day. Art’s mother and father became inseparable, too.

First, my brother joined the couple. I was next. They ended their child-bearing days with my sister. Art’s parents had three children of their own as well. Two boys and Art. Like me, she was the middle child. We were born in the same year as well.

“Is it possible to miss someone you haven’t truly met?” I dropped my head, staring at the new pair of black socks that covered my feet.

“Egypt.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “You have.”

“But, have I?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t I have a name or a number to contact him?” I chuckled.

Laugh to keep from crying. The saying registered with me at the moment.

“Tell me, Egypt, with honesty… would having his name change anything about the time you spent together? Would it have made it better?”

“No.”

“Then, don’t worry. He’s made it clear he’s coming back. He just needs to clear his head.”

“This is why you’ve been married as long as you have been. This is why your marriage is so damn successful.”

“Why is that?” She laughed.

“Because you have the patience of a mother with five little ones.”

“The thought of having five children isn’t sitting well with me. Five is an odd number, so that’s definitely not going to work for me.”

“Then, four.”

“Better.”

“I have no patience for this man. I want him right now and having no way to tell him I– I’m just going on and on about me. I’m sure you didn’t call to hear me go on about him, too. What’s up, girlfriend?” I smacked my lips, trying my best to shake him from my thoughts. I failed. Miserably.

“Please don’t agitate me,” she warned as if it was possible.

I’d known Art her entire life. I could count on my fingers how many times she’d gotten bothered or had her panties in a bunch. And that was using one hand.

“Ugh.”

“No way to tell him what?”