Page 2 of Old Acquaintances

“Johnny will have told her there’s nothing to worry about.” I reach into my sweater and rub an itchy line under my tank top.

“You’re her soon-to-be-husband’s female best friend. There’s nothing he can say to calm her fears until she meets you. Even then…”

“You know Johnny. He probably told her nothing about me, but he would have gagged at the suggestion of he and I being romantic.”

I always picture Johnny Wagner at eight years old, walking across the yard in his new glasses, making me beg my mom to get me some. Johnny hated them but I thought they were so cool, and I wanted to be just like my best friend. He had this easy way about him while I had zero control over my emotions. As we got older, some part of me thought I could absorb his chill and stop myself from having panic attacks and stripping off my clothes in public places so I could breathe.

Then, I realized that Johnny had problems, he just didn’t deal with them. He let them roll off his shoulders, down the ground for someone else to pick up, and I wished I wasn’t the person doing the heavy lifting.

Hattie asks, “Who else is going?”

“Serena and her girlfriend will be there.”

“You all are so incestuous, it’s so odd to me,” she grumbles. My niece and nephew argue in the background. “Isn’t it weird tostill be friends with Serena when she and Johnny dated for so long?”

“It was for two years early in college. She’s with a woman now. They’re completely fine.”

Self-proclaimedhalf-hippie-half-basic-bitch, Serena could never get booted from the group. I needed another girl who understood these boys I surrounded myself with and she needed a group of friends she could be honest and comfortable around.

She met Callie in a spin class. Callie, the hairstylist, who also does Brazilian Jui Jitsu and went to cooking school and was an off-camera contestant on a season ofLove Is Blind.She’s one of the coolest people I know. She has no business being our friend.

“All right, all right. Who else?” Hattie says.

I wave a hand toward the barista when he calls out my name. “Wyatt, Johnny’s old roommate. You met him, I think? Skinny, tattoos, colored hair. Runs on Red Bull and Will Ferrell movie quotes. And Ritchie’s coming, too.”

“Oh.”

I pick up my bag and collect my coffee, heat rising to my cheeks when she says this in the swoony way that she does.

She repeats in the same tone, “Ritchie.”

“Yeah. Ritchie.”

“Of the newlysingleRitchies of Charlotte, North Carolina?”

“How do you know where he lives?”

“I Insta-stalk because I need faces to names and then suddenly, I know everything about these people.”

“Oh, well, then yes. One and the same.” My eyes ping around the concourse, looking for Gate E35 to Miami. It’s not very full. I step over a dark stain on the carpet, find an empty seat and plop down.

Hattie asks, “How did you swing that one?”

“Ritchie always hangs out with us. He’s part of the group,” I explain. “It’s not like he’s coming because it’s my birthday oranything.”

“Maybe that is why he’s coming. He’s fresh off his divorce and he knows you’re a little loose with your morals. Maybe he’ll get you a present. A nice, big,hard-”

“Stop,” I demand. “Now.”

She laughs like she does, probably throwing her head back, loving how mortified I am at her never-subtle innuendoes. People around me keep their eyes on the gate, and I sip my coffee.

Hattie finally stops laughing and says, “And…what about Tucker?”

Chapter Two

Happy New Year

When I was born on New Year’s day, at 12:02 in the morning, my mom claims to have been given a glass of champagne and her new baby at the same moment.

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