Page 15 of Rewrite the Rules

“You literally just asked me that.”

“I know. You didn’t answer honestly, so I’m trying again.” I set down my fork and lean back in my chair that creaks in protest. I cross my arms and we begin a staring conversation.‘Let it go’her eyes say.‘Not a chance’mine respond.

I don’t falter.

She caves.

“My best friend Noa and I were supposed to go hiking on Sunday, but she’s going through hell so I let her off the hook.”

Oh. I wasn’t expecting such a tame explanation. She looks like she just found out someone is in the hospital. “You’re that upset about it?”

“I mean hiking is a whole separate thing. But the part that bothers me is she’s in so much pain and I can’t help her. She won’t let anybody help her. It drives me crazy that she pretends she’s fine.”

“What happened?”

“She fell in love with a Hollywood movie star of all people after a crazy PR stunt. I swear I’m not even making this up. Very un-Noa like. Anyways, I thought they were really going to go the distance, but it became clear after one summer together that their lives didn’t fit together. I thought inviting her on this hike would help but she’s still in the bad place. There’s nothing I can do for her except watch her go through it. It’s awful.” Adler retrieves her chopsticks and begins poking at her noodles again. Her eyes fall down and her expression is haunted. The way she talks about her friend makes me think she’s in agony for her. I know that feeling all too well.

“Do you watch football?”

Her face scrunches in confusion. I don’t blame her, that was a hell of a non-sequitur. “Sometimes. Mostly just with my best friend, Quinn.”

“I thought Noa was your best friend?”

“I have four best friends.”

“If you have four best friends, none of them are yourbestfriend.”

“I could never pick one over the other. Hence, they are all my best friends.”

“Literally the definition of best is to define a hierarchy—”

“Would you like to get back to football? Because you’re not going to win this argument.” This time Adler leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. Her eyes beam with defiance.

“Mybestfriend—and I literally mean best because I only have one—”

“Let it go, Joel.”

“—his name is Cody. He was a tight end for the New York Bandits. Up until a year ago, football was his entire life. In college it was all he lived and breathed. He even asked me to tutor him when his grades started slipping. He’d train for hours even outside of practices, he went to all his classes, and still made time in the library with me. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard at anything in my life. When it all paid off and he got that first-round draft pick I could feel his elation. I was so proud of him it was like a shared win. Just like he felt mine when I sold my first portfolio company for eleven mil—um, money.”

Adler rolls her eyes. She catches my slip. But I’m not about to showboat. I come from a world where all people do is talk—and by talk, I mean brag—about their net worth and the sum of their portfolios. I have to be that Joel sometimes. The top dog that Steve recruited to save his firm. The boss. The closer. It’s necessary for survival in venture capitalism.

But right now, I just want to be the normal guy sitting across from a pretty girl, trying to figure out why she looks like she’s about to cry.

“I’m not trying to calculate your net worth, Joel. I really don’t care.”

“I didn’t think you did. I just—” I take a deep breath. “Back to Cody. He took a hit in the back. First game of the season. Right in the end zone. I was at the game. I saw him all but snap in half right in front of my eyes. The hit silenced the entire stands.”

Adler wraps both hands around her mouth. “Kartlin. Cody Kartlin, right? I saw that! I saw that game. He was down for so long. I remember, it was so damn scary, even on TV.”

It was a godawful ten minutes. I knew it was logically improbable, but at the time I thought I saw my best friend murdered on the field. The late-hitting, helmet-led tackler was penalized so hard, I don’t think he ever saw playing time again. But it didn’t fix Cody’s back. Or save his career.

My thumb knocks rapidly against the table as I relive the panicked adrenaline from that memory. “He’ll never play in the NFL again. He’s lucky he can walk. Right after it happened, he went to the bad place for a while. And I felt like what I imagine you’re feeling now. Sucks when you can’t save your friend. You feel so—”

“Useless? Like all your silly problems pale in comparison?” Adler reaches across the table and cups her hand over mine. A jolt of energy shoots up my forearm. For a moment I think she’s making a move, but then she steadies my thumb that’s been tapping ferociously against the unstable table, causing our drink cups to teeter precariously. “You’re going to spill our waters.” She slowly takes back her soft, cool hand that somehow leaves a burn trail on my skin. “How is Cody now?”

“Better. He went through hell, but he’s coming through it in his own time and in his own way. Just like Noa will, I’m sure.”

Adler’s eyes crease at the corners as a wide smile overcomes her face. “Wow.”

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