My friend has breast cancer

I dry my tears and drive over. Terry seems strong and funny but she’s good at pretending. There is no sadness, only the back and forth war stories of friends who know each other too well in some ways. We used to share an office, there weren’t many secrets. But there was tons of gossip, her divorce, a serious fight with my mom, 2 nutty boyfriends, lots of dieting and donuts, and plenty of compassion. I kept us up on pop culture, she knew everything else. I think my work was better when she sat next to me.

We go to a bar, where else.
We talk about it.
We don’t.
We talk about everything else.

We exhaust all our usual topics plus the scary ones. We laugh at the fact that a year ago I did the Avon 39-mile walk for breast cancer, just for the fun of it. Maybe next year we’ll do it together. Then she hops out of my car, telling me she doesn’t want to start crying. And she says what I can’t “I love you” and she’s gone. Now I can cry.