Page 74 of The Warmth of Our Closest Star

When Alex’s face popped up on the screen—after merely two rings—I couldn’t help but smile. Something inside of me told me that I’d never understand why I loved Alex so much, why his friendship meant so much to me. For all of his openness and willingness to answer any questions posed, he was also a steel trap. Anyone could get answers from Alex, but not the underlying stories that had led him to have those answers. Ever since I’d met him, I wondered if anyone would ever truly know who he was; but he was my lifeline. He was a great friend.

What more can one ask?

“Well,” he said, not waiting for a greeting, nor pausing to give one, “you look like you’ve actually had a few meals.”

I laughed. “I’m getting better. I am better.”

He set his phone down so he could be on screen, but also continue with some task he was in the middle of completing.

“How’s the new place?”

“It’s good,” I said. “I don’t have living room furniture yet, but it’s good.”

“The utter suffering!”

Again, I laughed.

“Whatever will you do?”

“Smartass,” I said.

I couldn’t help but laugh at my own statement. There was nothing like speaking with Alex to bring out vulgarity. He ignored the jibe.

“Are you going to be okay there? All by yourself? I talked to Paloma earlier. She said you were welcome to keep staying with her, but you insisted on getting your own place. Are my friends not good enough for you, Frenchie?”

“I have to be a grown-up, don’t I?”

“What the fuck does that even mean? Was she swaddling you and changing your diapers?”

Cackling at him, I couldn’t form an answer for a moment.

“And I’m one of your friends.”

“That’s assuming a lot,” he said, his tone shifting suddenly. “But seriously, are you doing okay?”

“I’m well,” I said. “I’m fine.”

Alex stopped whatever task he was working on to stare at me through the phone.

“I’m lonely. And sad,” I said. “Alex. I failed.”

He simply stared at me for the space of several breaths.

“Do you actually believe that? That you hold all responsibility for everything that’s gone wrong in your life?”

“Well, I—”

“Did you ever consider therapy?”

“Don’t be rude,” I said, chuckling nervously. “I’m feeling sensitive.”

“It was a serious question,” Alex said, continuing to focus solely on me. “You have that good insurance now. Why not actually use it for something besides simply surviving?”

I stared back.

“I’m not great with beating around the bush or being delicate,” Alex shrugged. “I don’t have that kind of time. And if I did, I wouldn’t waste it on people’s delicate dispositions. So, I think therapy would help you.”

“Therapy?” I frowned.