I Wish You All the Best(49)

But I can dream, right?

I draw back my hand when I hear the door slide open.

“You’re up early,” Hannah says, taking the seat across from me.

“Couldn’t sleep.” I run my fingers along my empty palm again. There’s a dog barking in the distance. I wonder if it’s Ryder.

“So how was your night?” she asks, cup of coffee in hand.

“Fine.” I scratch the back of my head. I can’t tell her the truth, but that’s an easy enough lie.

“You got in late. Didn’t party too hard, right?”

“I had one drink, and something that tasted really gross.”

“Yeah, you get used to it.”

I debated all night whether I should tell her about the panic attack, but in the end, I know it’ll just cause more worry. That’s something to tell Dr. Taylor, not Hannah. “I don’t think the party life is for me,” I try to joke.

Hannah lets out this tired little chuckle, staring ahead at the line of trees that cut off her backyard from the noise of the city nearby.

I wish I could say she hasn’t changed in the ten years we’ve been apart. Still a little pushy without really meaning to be, still headstrong. She is those things, but other than that, there isn’t really much I know about her. The age difference meant we weren’t really a part of each other’s lives. I mean, what teenager wants to hang around their kid sibling? She had her own life, her own friends, her own hobbies. She spent weekends out of the house, and nights locked away in her room.

It dawns on me that as much as she’s saved my life, I don’t really know my own sister.

“So what are your plans for today?” she eventually asks.

“Nothing.” I shrug. I guess I have a whole week to look forward to. A week without the art room, my portrait of Nathan left alone. A week without Sophie or Meleika. “What about you?”

“Thomas is finally catching up on sleep. But I need to go to the grocery store. Want to come with? It’s right next to a shopping center. Maybe we can find you some new clothes while we’re out.”

“We could do that,” I say. Maybe this is the chance we’ve both been waiting for. We’re older, and without Mom and Dad around, it might be easier. Besides, I’d rather not have to raid her closet the next time I want to go out. Not that I’m too eager for another party, but you never know when you might need semi-decent-looking clothes.

“You want breakfast? I’m starving,” she says after a solid minute of neither of us contributing to the conversation.

“Not hungry.”

“Okay.” She stands up and walks back inside. I wait until I hear the click of the door before I pull out my phone. I’ve gone nearly a week without talking to Mariam. Not totally ignoring, but it’s been mostly one-sided conversations. I just really haven’t felt like talking much at the moment.

Me: Morning!



I text them on the off chance they’re up. It only takes a few seconds for them to reply. They must be working on something to be awake as early as they are.

Mariam: heyo! how we doing?

Me: Fine, you’re up early…

Mariam: meetings, planning, editing, articles to write.

Mariam: I’m runnin’ on fumes, Benji Me: Yikes…

Mariam: What about you? Anything new???

Me: Not really, school’s kicking my ass, dealing with some more stuff.



Not a great excuse, but hopefully they will understand my radio silence.

Mariam: Noice! I’m always up for some existential crises.

Me: Always a fun time.

Mariam: So what’s on the agenda for us today?

Me: Hannah wants to go out, get some groceries, look at some clothes.

Mariam: Nice, nice!



I rub my face while I consider the pros and cons of telling Mariam about last night, my hand scratching the stubbly hair that’s just poking up on my jaw. I yank my hand away and try to forget about it, but I know I won’t feel better until I actually shave it off, which I probably won’t be able to do until tonight.

A few of the message boards I’ve read said things like facial hair growth contributes to body or gender dysmorphia. So that was a fun thing to learn. I don’t exactly remember when I discovered the whole thing made me uncomfortable. It was just one of those gradual things, like my hair, or my nose.

Mariam: gasp! I almost forgot! You haven’t met the new girl!

Me: New girl?



Mariam sends me a selfie of them with a girl at a coffee shop or restaurant or somewhere. They’re both really cute, Mariam as always, their dark purple lipstick matching their hijab. This girl is kissing Mariam’s cheek, her hair dyed a similar purple, eye shadow dark. She looks vaguely witchy, and I love it.

Me: She’s so cute!!!

Mariam: omg she’s so amazing. Her name is Shauna. like we’ve been out every day this week. We went to the movies last night and she held my hand the entire time and it was PERFECT! Like I think I died and I’m in heaven right now honestly.

Me: Sounds nice



I stare at their messages while I try to imagine Mariam walking down the street, getting to hold hands with their new girlfriend. I don’t know much about Mariam’s parents, but they’ve never had any problem with them being nonbinary or pansexual, so Mariam never really had to worry about hiding their sexuality or their identify from their parents.