“What’s on that paper?” Ming asked. “You can tell me.”
“It’s personal…just something Noah wrote me a long time ago. Well, what feels like a long time ago.”
Seven months had felt like an eternity.
Ming’s friendship had made the passage of that time a little easier. I was grateful for her.
On my very first day of apartment hunting in Vermont, tired and really homesick, I’d stopped at a Chinese restaurant in the late afternoon. It was a cold, raw day. The place had been totally empty, but so warm inside, and the most enchanting Chinese meditation music had played on the overhead. It felt like I’d walked into a dream.
Ming had appeared and walked me to a table where she later waited on me. Absolutely starving, I’d ordered a huge pu pu platter. She’d gotten a kick out of the fact that I’d ordered all that food just for myself. I’d explained that I’d had a very long, stressful day and planned to eat the entire thing.
Since the place was empty, Ming had sat across from me and watched with great interest while I devoured everything in front of me. She and I got to talking, and I learned her father owned the restaurant as well as some apartments upstairs in the building. It happened to be just around the corner from campus. Ming lived in one of the apartments and was also a student at the university. When I’d told her I’d been searching for apartments all day, she mentioned she had an extra bedroom. The rest was history. I’d snagged a place to live on day one, along with an instant friend—one with quite the sense of humor.
It was no surprise that my fortune cookie that afternoon had read: You just ate cat. Ming was in charge of ordering the fortune cookies and made it her mission to put the funniest stuff inside.
She sat on the edge of my bed. “How is Mountain Man doing?”
I’d shown her a photo of Noah—unshaven and wearing one of his flannel shirts while working outside the lakehouse—and she’d instantly given him a nickname.
“I haven’t spoken to him today. I think he might have a late shoot.” I sighed. “It always gives me anxiety when I can’t reach him. I really needed to hear his voice. Today sucked.”
“Nothing tea and dumplings won’t solve.” She winked. “My dad just made some fresh ones.”
“That sounds awesome.”
Ming and I retreated to the kitchen and devoured the dumplings she’d brought upstairs. I’d probably gained five pounds since moving in with her.
Ming blew on her hot green tea. “So, what happened today that was so bad?”
“I think I screwed up my microbiology exam—like really badly. Then at work, I spilled an entire tray of food on a customer.”
“Ouch.”
I’d taken a job at a restaurant right off campus that was always crowded with college students. It was far more hectic than my old gig at Jack Foley’s.
I sighed. “How was your day?”
“I think I stooped to my lowest point today. I sniffed a baby diaper while babysitting.”
I bent my head back in laughter. “Oh man. I think you did.”
Shortly after I moved in, I’d caught Ming in the bathroom sniffing a white powdery substance. I’d nearly had a heart attack thinking I’d moved in with a drug addict. Sweet little Ming is a cokehead? Well, it turned out to be baby powder. She’d sat me down and told me all about this strange addiction she’d had since she was a kid. She liked to sniff baby powder and sometimes eat it. She’d even been featured in a documentary about strange addictions. She’d played it for me on YouTube as I sat there flabbergasted.
Between my sleep talking and her obsession with baby powder, we made quite the team. We didn’t judge each other, though, and we appreciated our strange habits as things that made us unique. Aside from Chrissy and Marlene, whom I spoke to only occasionally now, I didn’t have too many close girlfriends, so I valued Ming’s friendship.
“You know I love you, right?” she said. “Like, more than Johnson & Johnson?”
That cracked me up. “Yes, oddly, I do know that, even though we haven’t known each other very long.”
“Well, as your friend who loves you, I’m going to ask you a serious question.”
“Okay.”
“Are you happy here in Burlington?”
I took some time to think before I answered. “It feels really liberating to be away from home, without any responsibilities except taking care of myself, but it’s also lonely. I even miss my dog, and I don’t mean that as an insult to you, because you’re the best thing about this place. But I can’t shake how much I miss Noah.”
“You try not to show him you miss him. I notice that when I’m eavesdropping on your calls.”
I rolled my eyes. “I try to sound upbeat, yeah. He believes this time away from home is important, something I need to experience. I think that’s because his college life was a lot different than mine. I’m pretty sure Noah was a party animal back then, likely had girls throwing themselves at him. He thinks there’s all this stuff I need to get out of my system, when in reality, I don’t do much more than go to school, work, and come home.”