Page 81 of Girls Will Be Girls
Lou begins telling the story about how Noah passed out on a beer pong table on two separate occasions, the first involving a game of shot pong that ended with Noah climbing up voluntarily to sleep across the table when they’d had enough, and the second time no one knows how Noah ended up a block away asleep at a student house party. Lou and Noah are both wiping at their eyes, retelling the second time, how Noah didn’t recognize Lou when he found them because it was Halloween and Lou was dressed as running Forrest Gump — with long hair, beard, and all — so Noah tried to run away from him.
I’m cackling and gasping for air by the end as Noah mimics Lou shouting“Noah, it’s me!”while he ran across a stranger’s lawn.
Other people come up and sit with us on and off throughout the day, and we mingle in the crowd occasionally when it feels like we’ve been at the edge for too long.
No matter what we’re doing, Lou is always lightly touching me. His arm around me, his fingers in my hair, brushing against my hand, up my arm. By the end of the day, it feels completely natural to be slotted in next to him.
When we’re back sitting at the picnic table towards the end of the day, I spot Otto in the distance talking to a group of people. I must tense, because Lou’s hand comes down to my leg and squeezes gently, his thumb circling lightly by my knee. I look up at him, and he just smiles, nodding as if to tell me we’re good. I don’t need to do anything to pretend.
And I guess, why would I? The way we’ve been naturally today, you could easily assume we’re a couple.
I don’t think Lou has been pretending. I know I haven’t.
Otto doesn’t come over to us, but I spot his gaze on us every now and again. At one point, he tips his beer toward us in the air, and Lou and I both smile sarcastically and raise ours in response.
It feels nice being on a strange, petty, little team like ours.
Noah refuses to acknowledge Otto, but you can always tell when they spot him in the distance by the scowl across their face and the daggers in their eyes. I get the distinct idea that Noah may hate Otto more than Lou does. It warms my soul that Lou has someone in his life who is so protective, who he clearly trusts completely.
It makes me want to earn that from Lou, too.
14
WHERE'S MY NAUTICAL THEMED PASHMINA AFGHAN?
It’srare for either of my parents to reach out to me too often, so any time they do, it always sends me into a spiral of anxiety and a healthy dose of panic. Even if it’s just the obligatory,how are youandare you alivetext.
My mom seems to work on a quarterly cycle of dropping into my life. Her texts usually contain the same main points.
Mom:
Hello Louisa. How are you? How is work? Any news?
And each time I reply with a variation of the same response.
Louisa:
Hey Mom. I’m good thanks. Work is fine, same old. How are you?
And each time I get a similarly vague reply from her, in a typically withholding boomer fashion.
Mom:
Ok. I am good.
And to that, I will either send her a thumbs-up emoji, or like I do today, I heart react her response. Then that’s us done for the next few months.
The next time we’ll talk will be her checking to see if I’m coming home for the holidays, which I’m pretty sure she is always banking on me not coming, so she can go to her friend’s house instead. That’s what she’s done the past few years, and each year when she checks to see if either my brother or I are coming, the texts get even more suggestive that we shouldn’t.
Mom:
Hello both. Are you planning on coming back this year? I have tentative plans, so fine not to.
Mom:
Good morning both. Please let me know if either of you plan on coming home, as I’ll need to cancel with Carol if you do.
Mom:
