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5
SUNNY
Despite their all-black funeral outfits—so elegant but somehow not stuffy—Hannah and Barry don’t look somber when they walk hand in hand into the kitchen, in fact, they’re smiling at each other like high school kids.
It’s nice to see, in a frustrating way.
Mostly because it’s proof that real love, the kind of love I want to stop believing in, is everywhere.
“How was the funeral?” I ask as I plate the stir-fry.
After a beat of silence, I wonder if that’s generally a stupid question to ask, and the need for continuing my recovery is annoyingly apparent when I realize I don’t remember half of the conversation I had with them yesterday when they told me they were going to a funeral today.
I hate feeling like my brain is constantly one step behind, but Dr. Natalie’s words sound in my mind and help me breathe easier.
Your brain creates pathways that are like highways. You’re so used to traveling down that same road that anything else seems ludicrous. But those highways only have exits in self-hate city, fear town, and maybe in panic county too.
You’ve been conditioned to think this highway is the only way for you to get to where you want to go—the city of love and acceptance.
But it’s a lie.
Right, I have to remember what I know.
I’m not stupid for forgetting, I’m not insensitive, I’m not self-centered.
Asking is okay.
“Who was it for, again?”
Barry smiles gently at me.
“The owner of the Demons.”
“Oh shit, that’s a big deal, isn’t it?”
It feels like I’m . . . I’m living in the real world for the first time in years all of a sudden. Though I swear I was fine just a few minutes ago.
Stupid recovery—
No.
It’s the way healing works.
Time, time, time.
I focus back on Barry, trying to give him all my attention.
“It would be, normally, but the Demons, the Keys, and the Knights are all owned by the Barclays. They’ve always been owned by them. I think they started the national leagues actually, but since the family is so established, it probably won’t affect the team all that much.”
Hannah’s snort has Barry rolling his eyes before he continues explaining.
“Okay, there’s already been a bunch of changes. We’ve known Tuck, the new owner, forever, because he’s been hanging around the team since he was little. He played in college and was damn good, but of course he couldn’t play professionally because that would’ve been a massive conflict of interest, and actually, I don’t even know if he wanted to go pro.”
He waves a hand around.
“In any case, he’s the new owner. Jim, his dad who the funeral was for, he was a—”
“An asshole,” Hannah interrupts, daring Barry to disagree with her hard stare before turning to me. “Every type of asshole you can think of actually.”
