He clicks the button on the side. It sounds like a shotgun blast.
And then our life unfolds. Picture by picture. Frame by frame. It tells a story. Me and him. Every year since I was nine. Every holiday. Every birthday. Every celebration. The good days and the bad ones. It tells our story and it’s sequential, starting from the beginning, from that very day when he told me our friendship was inevitable, to just a few weeks ago, when I fell asleep and he carried me up the stairs to my bed before going home.
It’s there. All of it is there. It’s a love letter, though I didn’t know it when I made it. Anyone can see it’s a love letter. It’s so obvious. It’s so trite. It’s so awkward. It’s nothing. It can’t be anything. He can’t know. I don’t want him to know. I can’t let him know.
“Ty,” he says, his voice coming out strangled. “This is….”
I think about snatching it out of his hands and throwing it to the floor, but I can’t. I shrug instead, taking a step back. “It’s nothing. It was cheap.” It cost everything I had saved. “I had a few hours, so I made it.” It took me weeks. “Don’t even worry about it.” Please go away. Please go away because I can’t stand to see that look on your face.
Because that look is breaking my heart. His eyes are bright. He’s biting his bottom lip. It looks like he’s trying to hold back. “Stacey?” he says, his voice hoarse. “Can you give me and Ty a minute?”
She looks between us, confused, but she nods.
“No,” I say quickly. “There’s no need. Just a gift, Dom. Jesus, it’s not that big of a deal. Hey, why don’t we go outside and get something to eat?”
I turn and start to walk away.
“Tyson.” His voice is a whipcrack of warning.
I look over my shoulder, but I don’t stop. “I’m h-hungry. Don’t want all the food to get e-eaten, you know?”
They follow me into the kitchen. Dom keeps trying to catch my eye. He reaches for me, but I pretend not to see it and duck behind some people. I open the sliding glass door and walk outside.
“Ty!” he calls from somewhere behind me.
“Go
get a seat!” I say back to him. “I’ll get us something to eat.”
“Can you get me a veggie burger?” Stacey asks.
“Of course. Coming up. Don’t worry, Dom. I know how you like it, so I don’t need you to tell me.” The words are bitter, but the tone isn’t. I don’t look back to see if he’s still following. I wade through crowds of people. Some call out to me. I shake hands. My back is patted. My hair is ruffled. I don’t know how they can all stand so still when everything is quaking. I don’t know how they can be so calm.
“Ty?”
Fuck.
Otter stops me, a hand on my shoulder. “What are you doing?”
I school my face and hope it doesn’t crack. “Just forgot something in Dom’s car,” I say, my voice even. I don’t stammer. I don’t stutter.
“Look at me,” he says, a quiet command.
I do. It’s Otter, so I do.
“Are you okay?” he asks slowly.
“Oh, sure! I’m fine. Just don’t want to forget my shit, you know? Make Dom drive all the way back here.”
“He lives right down the road, Kid. Is it that important? We’re going to do the cake in a bit. I was hoping to get some help. This is your show, after all.”
“Hey, can you ask Bear?” I say. “It might take me a few minutes.” Please believe me. Please believe me and go away. Otter, please.
He doesn’t believe me. “You’d tell me if something is wrong, wouldn’t you?”
I laugh, though it’s forced. “You worry too much, Otter.”
“Kinda my job,” he says with a tight smile.