Page 15 of Summertime Friends

“Tomaremos uma taça verde e uma taça de rosa,” Natalie orders in her best extremely broken and over-enunciated Portuguese.

Natalie also thought we should try to learn the language ineverycountry we travel to this summer. It’s not a bad idea; it’s a great idea. We downloaded Babble. On the flight to Rome, we spent hours of air time trying to pick up the basics. Doing the same on each train or plane ride between places. We lost ourselves to giggle fits over how badly we pronounced words. As much as I’d love to share our accomplishment in becoming bilingual, we are rather unfortunately unsuccessful unless you consider saying ‘more wine’ and ‘where is the bathroom’ a success.

We arrived back in Lisbon from our tour to Sintra and Cascais. Before going to the hotel to change for the night, we stopped for drinks at the wine bar down the street. It’s quaint. The walls covered floor to ceiling in bottles. Dim lights and wooden family-style tables line the middle of the place, and there are a few employees who I think might own the place.

“Obrigado,” Natalie says.

“We’d also like a charcuterie plate. Any combination works,” I quickly add before the waiter walks away. “What? I’m starving. We didn’t eat anything while we were out, and our liquid diet isn’t cutting it for me today.”

“Yeah, same. My head would be as light as this rose if I didn’t eat.”

She picks up her wine glass that was quickly delivered.

“To being best friends forever. Salude.”

I playfully roll my eyes at her, smiling. She’s too cheesy, but I love that about her.

“Salude.” We clink glasses and drink. “How are you feeling about the move?”

“Better than I feel about law school.” Natalie drops her shoulders. “Me? A lawyer?”

Most people think Natalie is stupid—a stunning, bimbo blonde. While she might not be street smart and a girly girl to her core, she’s wicked intelligent. She starts law school at the end of August after being accepted into Northwestern’s law school on early admittance. She won’t admit that she’s nervous, but she’s going to kick ass. I know it.

“Do you remember setting up a courtroom in my basement? We’d use Barbies and whatever dolls we could find as the jury?”

“How could I forget? I’d make you take the stand and pretend to ask you questions.”

“You were good at it, too. Nine years old and already commanding a courtroom. I used to think you’d research techniques or watchLaw and Ordersecretly after your parents went to bed.”

I take another drink of my wine.

“I think I’m just good at getting people to do what I want.” Natalie pretends to sweep something off her shoulder.

I cough-laugh on my wine. “True.”

She nods in agreement. Picking up her phone, she tosses it at me, then picks up her half-drunk wine glass.

“Snap a picture of me? For my blog.”

I take the picture and a few extra candid photos which she loves.

“Here.” I hand her phone back to her. “I think you were destined to be a lawyer, Nat, and you will thrive at law school.”

She smiles up at me, the compliment reflecting off her. “Thanks, Emme.”

We didn’t make it back to the hotel that night to change for dinner. Or dinner.

We spent the rest of the evening at that wine bar, talking about how life will be when we return home and dreaming up our next chapter together in Chicago. We move three weeks after we return. Natalie in law school, and I’ll be a Creative Assistant at a marketing agency. We’ve already lined up a cute two-bedroom apartment in the Loop. It’s closer to my job than campus, but Natalie doesn’t mind.

Those hours sitting there together felt as if we were teens again—fifteen and inspo boarding about our lives right now. It’s hard to believe we are only months away from making it all a reality.

I’m proud of us for reaching this point as individuals and as best friends.

8

LIAM

Now

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