We sat on the bed, playing “Pocket Frogs.” I knew the moment I found the game, it would hook her. As we separately bounced frogs on our phones, nibbling on plain sugar cookies (“You know what would go great with these. Frosting.” “You can always lick it and stick some of the colored sugar on it. Oh wait, there’s not enough.” I stuck my tongue out at her.), life felt perfect. Like all those hours of thumbing through cook books, looking for new delicious recipes to try. Like all those hours of collages, watching movies, listening to music. Like all those hours of playing “Mario Go-Kart” or “Lego Star Wars.”
Wally: (Not looking up from her phone) It was really cute to watch you today. Talking. And you. You were like what I remember you from college. Confident, glowing, laughing, with that mischievous smile and laugh. This is good for you. You deserve this.
Funny that I can tell which pronouns are plural and which aren’t. That I can follow her pronouns to the names, to the undercurrents of what hadn’t been said, what had already been said.
Me: (a smile I hadn’t been able to remove since an hour after I landed on Friday) It’s been a perfect weekend. Amazing. Thanks for being so accommodating.
Wally: (Snorts.) Like I wouldn’t understand. I’m glad it worked out. Though My Sister is dying for details.
Me: Speaking of details. What did you say to The Violinist?
Wally: (looking at me with a smile) You should call her. I gave her a few details. I told her this was a good thing.
Me: I will. I’m glad I got to see her.
Then I remembered something from earlier that day. I started giggling.
Me: I pulled a prank. And he didn’t even notice.
The rest of my words were swallowed by giggles. She waited until I calmed down so I would explain. Then I went into some silly monologue that as my best friend she had to endure. Not that I think she minded, we had already discussed her opinion and thoughts at length.
It was a perfect weekend.