Page 61 of First Comes Forever

I stare out into the park, wishing Amani had come with me on this trip. She probably would’ve loved this pizza. Actually, while I’m thinking of it… I pull out my phone, hold my folded, half eaten slice of pizza near my face, and snap a picture and send it her way.

Me

Hey, summer girl. Let your food education begin. Best slice of pizza in New York.

If you were here, what kind of slice would I be buying you?

She “likes” both messages with the thumbs-up emoji, but no response. I had my head between her legs for like an hour. Surely we’re past the brush-off emoji responses by now. With Mona now on the phone, I scoot to the other side of the bench and make a call of my own.

“Hey,” Amani answers.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?” she asks curtly.

“Oh shit, sorry. I thought…well, never mind. It sounds like you’re busy.”

She sniffles. “No, I’m sorry. That made me sound like an asshole. I mean, hey, how are you? How’d it go with LMC?”

“Turns out they made a good call. If Chase had taken that offer, he would’ve been ineligible to work with the studio that just paid him a small fortune. LMC had his back after all.”

“Oh, good. Glad to hear you don’t have to kick any asses.” She lets out a small laugh, but it sounds muffled.

“Are you getting sick? You sound a little off.”

She pauses for a moment, then admits, “I’m just in bed, under the covers.”

I glance at Mona across the bench, who is talking so fast, it sounds like a foreign language. She catches me staring at her and gives me a cheesy smile and a thumbs-up.

“Why are you in on a Saturday night at like seven o’clock in L.A.? Go out, have some fun. I mean, not too much fun.”

“I’m having a bad day,” she says simply. “I need some rest.”

I rub the back of my neck as I stare at my half eaten slice of pizza, debating my options. It doesn’t sound like she wants to elaborate, but she’s my summer girl. She’s crazy if she thinks I’m going to ignore the fact she’s having a bad day. “What’s wrong, Amani?”

She sniffles again. “Depends. Do you want the easy answer where I say ‘It’s no big deal, I’ll be fine, and don’t worry about me,’ or do you want heavy honesty?”

I don’t even hesitate. “Always heavy honesty.”

She sighs into the phone. “My mom’s treatment just became unbearably expensive. I just got fired from a partnership I rely on. My DMs are filled with trolls cussing me out for existing. And all of that would be tolerable, except today I realized there’s no way I can pull everything together in time financially to try IVF. Having a baby is off the table now, and I just need a day to be bummed about it.”

“Shit, Amani. I’m sorry. That’s a lot for one day,” I mumble into the phone as I picture her eyes. I hear the sniffling. I know she’s crying. I wonder if the tears are pouring because she’s alone and knows no one can see her.

There’s silence between us for an uncomfortably long time until she finally asks, “Hey, Adam?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s no big deal. I’ll be fine, and don’t worry about me.”

I exhale, feeling the familiarity of the conversation. How many times did Liv tell me she was fine? How many times did I believe her? How many times was I wrong to leave her alone because I was chasing a life she didn’t want? “I have to wrap up something here, but I’ll be home on Monday night. Or Tuesday, latest. How about we talk when I get back?”

“Tuesday?” she asks, her voice cracking, so she clears her throat. “Yeah, I’m free on Tuesday. See you then. Oh, and Hawaiian.”

“Huh?” I ask.

“You asked what kind of slice of pizza I’d like. Hawaiian. Ham and pineapple. That’s my favorite.”

“Good to know,” I respond before we say bye and end the call.

---