Page 16 of The Man I Love

“How’s life?” Renee asked. “How are things with The Gallery?”

“Good,” Sam replied, trying to get her heartbeat to slow.

“We got a puppy.”

“Oh yeah?”

“And Phin got a tattoo across his chest that reads: “I love my mom.”

“Nice.”

Renee snatched the phone off the table. “You’re not even listening to me!” She pouted.

Sam took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. Renee was right. Sam couldn’t recall a single word her friend had said in the last fifteen minutes. “I’m sorry. It’s just—he hasn’t called.” She didn’t need to saywho. They both knew how unusual it was for Tristan to be this quiet.

“He’s probably working,” Renee said, her voice weak and unconvincing.

Sam shook her head. “It’s two o’clock, well past the time he arrives at work. He always calls me when he gets there.”

Renee sat forward and grabbed Samantha’s hand. “Tristan’s a big boy. If my dad calls, I’m sure he can handle it.”

Sam exhaled. “I know.” But she wasn’t sure it was actually the case. Tristan was a big boy, yes, but he was also prone to bottling everything up inside until he had no room to breathe.

Renee leaned forward in her seat, picking up a lock of Sam’s hair and flicking it between her fingers. “I can’t believe you cut it.”

Sam’s eyes squinted into slits. “Your attempts to change the subject aren’t lost on me.”

“Did it work?”

Sam let out a sigh. “It’s different, huh?”

Renee nodded, seeming pleased with herself. “It suits you. Gives you anartist vibe.”

Sam forced a smile “Thank you, I need all the help I can get.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Never mind.” Sam forced a smile and looked at her best friend, pushing her imposter syndrome to the back of her mind. “Do you really think it looks good on me?”

Renee took a sip of herbal tea, her face half covered by a paper cup. “Mission accomplished,” she whispered.

Sam recognized the phrase all too well—the one they’d used since fourth grade when they’d planted a love note in Johnny Snyder’s backpack. It had become part of their own personal language ever since. Trade a PB and J for a package of powdered donuts—mission accomplished. Get a cute guy’s phone number while playing mini golf—mission accomplished. Sneak another bowl of ice cream without Mom noticing—mission accomplished. She mentally added, cutting off most of her hair on a whim to the running list. “I needed this,” Sam said.

“I feel so bad! You moved all the way to the city, and I’ve only seen you three times.”

“No.” Sam shook her head. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“I’m an asshole,” Renee continued.

“I wouldn’t say asshole—” Sam teased. “Bitch maybe.”

Renee threw a napkin which narrowly missed Sam’s head.

“God, you have bad aim!” Sam taunted.

Renee picked up another napkin but paused, arm cocked, napkin balled and began to giggle.

A waiter walked by, giving them a once over, and Renee burst out in laughter. The sound so wholesome and infectious that it drew every eye and ear of the restaurant.

---