Page 36 of The Friend Game

“I don’t have a—” I begin to protest, but Ellie starts whining, cutting me off.

“No,wehave to take Mia home, Aunt Hannah! She’s supposed to stay and play this afternoon.”

“I want to go to Ellie’s house,” Mia pipes up at the same time neuro guy’s wife announces that Mia can just come play at her house with her son Kingston. Meanwhile Ellie is just saying my name on repeat.

“How about I drive all three of you back to the Bernard’s?” Luke speaks above the cacophony of voices and everybody shuts up at the same time.

There’s one long beat of silence then Ellie and Mia look at each other and start screaming. “We get to ride in Pastor Abbott’s Jeep!” Ellie screams.

“His yellow Jeep!” Mia screams back.

His yellow Jeep! I refrain from joining in on their screaming, but only just. Call me Sandy, because I want to ride in Danny’s T-bird!

“Well, I suppose that would be fine.” Neuro lady sniffs her nose like she doesn’t actually think it’s fine, but then her son, Kingston, who I vaguelyrecall from class this week, approaches our group and declares loudly that there’s no way he’s having a girl over to play. And that’s that. Five minutes later the girls and I are in Luke’s jeep headed towards home.

The car smells like Luke, cedar and pine and masculinity. It’s pretty clean too, which I hope means he is in fact a man who likes cleaning bathrooms. In the backseats the girls are engaged in some complicated hand clap that all elementary-aged girls seem to instinctively know. This leaves Luke and I free to talk, and though I know I should be bringing up Caroline, what I’m dying to talk about instead is...

“So you’re a talk radio guy?” The question comes bursting out, and Luke chuckles.

“That was actually sports radio,” he tells me, referring to the station playing when he first turned the car on. He’d flipped it off almost immediately in favor of silence. “I was listening to a football game on the way to practice.”

“Oh, okay.” I nod. Sports radio is maybe a little better than regular talk radio, but they’re both not great. I mean, you can’t sing along to either one! What if Luke’s old choir teacher scarred him so much that now he can’t even listen to music in his car?

“Do you listen to sports radio a lot?” I hedge.

“Almost exclusively. That or podcasts. Never music,” he says gravely. “Brings up too many bad memories of my middle school choir teacher.”

“I knew it!” I cry. “Luke, that’s awful! You can’t let her rob you of the joy of music any longer. You—”

I break off as I see Luke’s lips twitching. He’s trying not to laugh.

“You liar!” I lean over and slap him on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I could just see on your face exactly what you were thinking.” He chuckles, then reaches over and hits preset two. Country music fills the car. “I like country music,” he tells me, and there’s that little cowboy twang I heard earlier; the cadence of it strums along my heart making it beat faster.

“Hey,” his brow furrows in concern, “you sure your head is okay? Your pupils really do look dilated.”

Oh for Pete’s sake! Instantly I look away, cursing my blue eyes. A brown-eyed woman would never have this same problem.

“My head is fine. Anyway, did I tell you about Sydney’s daughter?”

How’s that for a segue?

“Sorry, Sydney?” He looks confused. “Who’s that?”

Do I feel slightly gratified that he doesn’t remember her right away? Yes, yes I do.

“Oh wait,” he adds. “Sydney. Your sister’s friend? The waitress?”

Fine, he remembers her.

But it took some work.

“Yes, that’s Sydney.” I take a deep breath, suddenly nervous. It feels a bit like I’m asking him for $20,000.

Then 20,000 more every year after that until Caroline graduates.

No big deal.

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