“Totally,” I say, waiting for Hannah’s reaction.
When she doesn’t respond, I ask her directly. “Can you see that now?”
“I guess. Now that I’ve taken a step back. But I still miss him. Or at least who I thought he was and what I thought we had.” Hannah pauses, then continues, “And I’m not going to lie—I’m very worried that I’ll never find someone.”
“Yes, you will,” I say. “You totally will.”
“I hope so. I really want a family.”
“You’ll have that. And at thirty-two, you still have plenty of time. But if you’re really worried, you could just freeze a few of your eggs.”
“Yeah,” she says. “I just wish I could look into a crystal ball and know that I won’t end up alone.”
“Well, I’d hope you know that by now,” Tyson says, lowering his voice.
She looks at him, nodding earnestly. “I do. And it’s made all the difference. I can’t even tell you—” Her voice breaks. “I just wish Summer could have known that she was this loved.”
“You don’t think she knew that?” I ask. “I think she did.”
“Maybe she did,” Hannah says. “Let’s just admit it. She was everyone’s favorite.”
“Wait. What?” I say, pretending to be shocked and dismayed. “I thought I was the favorite.”
Tyson laughs, then says, “Nope. But you’re the most…special.”
“What was it about Summer, anyway?” I say.
“A lot of things,” Tyson says. “She was good at everything she did.”
“Yeah. I know that. But we didn’t love her for her fast times on the track or her stupidly high GPA.”
“Well, obviously,” Tyson says. “We admired her for those things, but we didn’t love her for that.”
“Exactly. So what was it that we loved about her?” I press.
I’m asking the question specifically about Summer, but in a sense, I’m asking it about myself. And Hannah. And Tyson. What makes a friendship? What makes us choose to love the people we love?
“Well, she was fiercely loyal, for one,” Hannah says. “We all had little arguments along the way, but she never once said a single negative thing about either of you. Or anyone, really.”
“Um. I hate to break it to you, sister,” I say, grinning at Hannah. “But she trash-talked you on the regular. Didn’t she, Tyson?”
Tyson laughs and plays along. “Yep. All the time.”
We sit in silence for a few seconds, our smiles gradually fading, before Tyson says, “For me, it was her passion. How fully she lived and deeply she loved.”
Hannah stares at him, blinking. “Yes,” she says. “That’s so true.”
“It was almost as if she felt things too deeply.” I pause, then say, “Remember Hurricane Sandy?”
“Oh my gosh, yes,” Hannah says, as we all fall silent, remembering how obsessed Summer got with the coverage, even starting a fundraiser on campus.
“And how about when Whitney Houston died?” Tyson muses. “I mean, I loved Whitney. She was in my top five. Maybe three. But—” He shakes his head.
“I know,” Hannah says. “It was as if she knew her.”
“She must have watched The Bodyguard three times that month,” I say.
“I can’t even listen to that song,” Hannah says.
Tyson nods, humming, I will always love you. He stops, shakes his head, and says, “Damn.”
“What about you, Lainey?” Hannah asks me. “What did you love most about Summer?”
I think for a second. “This might sound selfish,” I say, cutting my eyes to Tyson. “But I loved that she always saw the best in me. Even when I messed up. She never judged me.”
“She really admired you,” Hannah says.
“She did?” I ask.
I’m so used to everyone else thinking of me as the wild, out-of-control fuckup that I don’t quite believe it.
Hannah nods, adamant.
“Yes. She once told me she would kill to have your way with people,” Hannah says. “The way you can talk to anyone. It’s like Grady—but unlike Grady, you make everyone feel good about themselves.”
“I hope I made her feel that way.”
“You did,” she says, nodding.
