Page 65 of All Our Nevers

Owen: Nope

Amelia: good

Now’s my chance. I brace for the humiliation of rejection and force myself to keep going.

Owen: I want to see you again

Amelia: yeah that was a one time thing buddy

Amelia: enjoy the memory

Owen: Okay

Owen: I still want to see you

Owen: Soon

Amelia: are you asking me on a date?

Owen: If you want to go on a date then yes. If you don’t then just hanging out as friends.

Amelia: hanging out as your pseudo sister in law

Owen: Jesus, don’t say that

Amelia: what? in laws can’t eat face anymore?

Amelia: woke culture strikes again

Owen: I’m not dignifying that with a response

Amelia: ^ he responds

My hand scratches over my beard and I find a smile there. This damn woman and her acidic wit.

Owen: Saturday is Porchfest in JP. Want to go? I’ll pick you up at noon?

Amelia: not the ica?

Amelia: i must really be special

Owen: You already know you are

Amelia: in that case, see you saturday

15

Lia

The air is thick with sticky late-July humidity as we walk down Green Street. Banjos on the left, dad rock on the right, and a cloudless sky overhead.

Porchfest is exactly what the name suggests: a music fest played on people’s porches. I’ve been to the one in Somerville before, but this one’s in Jamaica Plain—an old Boston neighborhood full of classic New England three-family homes, rows of paneled facades and wooden decks out front. It’s a real community event, too. College-aged kids barely concealing their open tall boys, parents pushing toddlers in strollers, small dogs and big dogs and even one cat on a hot pink leash. A beagle with a gray face walks past us, tongue lolling out with each bouncy step, and I have to turn away to keep my cool.

“Ugh, God,” I say, walking backwards and facing Owen. “I can’t look at that dog. It’s gonna make me sad.”

“Why? He’s having a great time.”

Owen’s more relaxed than usual today, though still overdressed in his white button down and khakis. Such a try-hard.