Whenever Dusty and I hang out we have little – traditions, I guess. One of them is that whenever we ride home from work together we ask each other what’s been the highlight of our last 7 days. We used to say “of the week so far,” but on Monday’s that didn’t make much sense.

“So what’s been the highlight of your last 7 days, Terri ?” he asks with a smile as wide as the state of Tennessee.

“Man I know I’m the one that came up with this game but I feel like I never have a good answer.”

“You always have a good answer.” He put extra emphasis on the word always. I know he believes what he’s saying so I won’t call him a liar. We’ll just have to agree to disagree and get on with it. “Soooooo,” his eyebrow is raised in anticipation of my answer.

“Well I saw a pretty good documentary a couple nights ago. I had a bottle of red wine and a pizza to myself while I watched it. That was nice.”

“See ! Always a good answer.”

“A pretty boring answer.”

“Boring can still be good.” He’s still smiling. He’s always smiling. He’s so optimistic, cheery and just overall positive. Maybe I envy that a little. I guess they say opposites attract for a reason. All the reasons I’m attracted to him – in a magnet way, not a romance way – are all the reasons that he should probably stay away from me.

“Whatever, what was your highlight Dustaroo ?”

“The highlight of my last 7 days is when you had your documentary, wine and pizza.” Now he’s laughing and I’m trying not to laugh. Faking rage is another thing I like to do. One of our unofficial traditions. In these games, if he laughs first, I pretend to be annoyed or enraged and then he tries to make me laugh too. So he reaches over and tickles me. I keep nerves of steel for all of 3 seconds before I’m laughing and yelling for him to stop. I keep thinking to myself that this is nice. We’re still the same two dopey kids we were when we were 5, despite what life’s been doing to us lately. Mostly to me. “Really though,” he starts back, “the highlight of my last 7 days was probably Thursday when I got my bonus. I went ahead and put some money away because I’m thinking of doing a backpacking trip. I haven’t decided if it’ll be a solo trip or a group thing but I’m pretty excited.”

“A backpacking trip ? Where ? When ? When were you going to tell me ?”

“Well it’s very much in the idea phase so there wasn’t a reason to really mention it yet.”

“Oh so best friends need reasons to tell each other things now ?”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“It was serious enough for you to put away part of your precious bonus for it.”

“I was going to save some money either way. Just wasn’t sure for what.”

“Where are you thinking of going ?”

“That… I’m not sure yet.” By this time, we’re pulling up to my apartment. 111 Oneston Street.

“Wanna come in for a bit ?” I knew he’d say yes. He always does. As a matter of fact, he was getting out of the car already. “I don’t really have anything to do but,” I let my voice trail off. He’s been here a million times but I still get nervous every single time he comes over. It honestly has more to do with the fact that I’m just an anxious person than anything he’s doing.

As I’m settling in, Dusty walks into the kitchen and starts opening cupboards. “I can never remember where the glasses are.” He finally finds them before I can respond and just that fast he’s pouring us two glasses of wine.

I plop on the couch and turn on the tv. “Wanna find another documentary ?” I ask. It’s what we do almost every time he comes over so the question was mostly rhetorical. Of course, we’re going to watch a documentary. Now, this is the highlight of my last 7 days. I always forget that I actually do enjoy human interaction. Sometimes. And mostly just from him. Still. This is nice. As I flip through I start to read the titles and give some commentary.

“Wait, go back up,” he says urgently. I didn’t catch the title but some cover art caught my eye. It looked a little spooky and I think that’s what I’m in the mood for.”

“A spooky documentary is what you’re in the mood for or you wish we would watch a scary movie instead of a documentary for once ?”

“Honesty zone ?”

“Honest zone.”

“Why not both ? I’d watch a spooky documentary or a scary movie this fine evening with my soon to be tipsy best friend.” He loves it when I drink. He says when I’m tipsy it’s more of the real me. Who he thinks I’d be if it wasn’t for all of the anxiety. I haven’t decided how I feel about that assessment yet. No rush to really unpack that either.

“You know what Dustaroo… let’s watch a scary movie this time.” I smile and he smiles. Then we clink our glasses and chug our wine as he finds a scary movie.

Since I genuinely do not want to see this shit (I am strictly a documentary girlie) I let the wine wash over me and take my mind elsewhere. The lights are low. We have a candle lit. I’m in my favorite oversized sweatshirt and I have my fluffiest throw blanket. All I’m really missing is a pillow but if I really need something, his arm or leg will do. Maybe I’ll just fall asleep. I honestly can almost never tell. Before I completely drift off I remember hearing him ask me if I was tired. “Of course I’m tired. I’m always tired, best friend.”