Kara I become an unbearably selfish creature when I'm hurt. I deliberately ignore everything around me, concentrate on my pain, and either shut down or explode. Just like what happened with Tala at the cafeteria yesterday when she'd told me she was leaving, and I had walked out. Now that I had time to calm down and reflect, I realized that it must be hard for Tala to leave everything again, start over again, and worry about all this and keep it all inside. It couldn't have been easy. The talk with my dad reminded me how hurtful misunderstandings were. I hopped in my car immediately and drove straight to Tala's. The two high columns on her porch caught my attention as I parked my car on her street. Every time I was on this spot, I always thought how charming the house would look with big pots of flowers hanging from its high ceiling. And definitely a new paint job. Tala and I always said we would give it a fresh look. I guessed it was too late now. I closed my eyes and fiddled with my ponytail. I don't know why I felt nervous standing at her door. I was scared that somebody else would open it—a stranger telling me that Tala had already left. I hadn't even said goodbye. What if today was her flight? What if— The door burst open. "Kar!" Tala was about to launch herself at me when she stopped. "You're not going to kick me if I hug you, right?" I stood there for a moment, blinked stupidly at her puffy face and red rimmed eyes. It looked like she was crying. "Idiot. Shut up and come here," I laughed-growled, squeezing her into my arms. She was so short she didn't even reach my shoulder. "Were you waiting for me at the door?" I said it as a joke because the door had suddenly opened without me even ringing the doorbell. But she nodded. "I was. I told Dylan to text me when you get home. And I was...hoping you'd come by." Why would she wait for me like that? Why did I want to cry suddenly? Why did she have to leave? I hugged her tighter, smelling her bubble gum shampoo. "I'm sorry, Tal. For walking out on you." She buried her face against my shirt, sobbing. "You weren't answering my texts or calls. I thought you were so angry at me that I won't even see you before I leave. I'm sorry for not telling you right away. I'm sorry, Kar." I bit my lip, feeling the threat of tears. My chest heaved and my throat closed up. I took a deep breath, trying to find calm, but it was damn hard. I don't want to lose her. Not Tala. Not my best friend. "I'd have stopped the plane to say goodbye," I said. "I'd have jumped out of the window to hug you." And just like that we were okay again. We got annoyed or upset with each other, but we never really got angry or had a fight. This was the first time. It felt strange, like the mountain I lived on had suddenly turned into an ocean. And I didn't know how to swim. "So...a few days?" I asked. Her shoulders drooped. "Listen, I want to keep talking, but your tiny boobs are in my face." We were still clinging onto each other. "Let's go inside? I'll make you a milkshake." "Can't," I said, following her inside. "I already had pizza with Dad. It'll be a double whammy if I drink a milk—" I took a sharp breath when I stepped into their living room. It was already empty. I wasn't sure what it was that triggered the pent-up tears inside me—maybe it was the sight of the empty living room where we had hung out so many times together, where something familiar abruptly turned into a stranger. It felt like all the memories Tala and I had together in that living room had been wiped away. Maybe it was the sight of Tala's back walking away from me and thinking that it could be the last time. Maybe it was the last couple of very emotional days—no, weeks that finally, finally made the tears flow. I hadn't cried in so long, couldn't even remember when the last time was, but they poured out of me now. Big, fat, hot, endless tears. "The bathroom's always there for—Kar?" She was at the kitchen entrance, eyes wide with panic as she watched me stand in the living room crying my heart out. "Are you crying? Why are you crying? No, no, no. You never cry. Don't cry. Oh gosh, I'm going to cry too." She already was. We probably looked like crazy women, sitting on the floor, hugging each other and sobbing like little girls who badly needed a nap. "You're so mean," I sobbed. "I want to kick your face. You're going to leave me too? Why do you have to leave? Why didn't you tell me right away? We could've spent more time together if I only knew. You're such a dick." "I'm such a dick," she bawled. "I'm so sorry, Kar." "You're so mean. I wish you'd grow giant moles on your face." She nodded, tears leaking out of her eyes. "Hairy ones." I laughed-sniffled. "This living room is empty. It's empty. You're really leaving. Tala." "I'm really leaving." I had no idea how long we stayed there, but eventually we ended up sprawled on the floor, staring at the ceiling, holding each other's hands. "I'm cold," I said. My voice had become sawdust. She turned her head to face me, squeezed my hand. "I'll make you tea. Come on." The kitchen wasn't as empty as the living room, but there were a lot of things missing that made me sad. The dining table and chairs where I had spent so many dinners with Tala and Mrs. B, the big sea-green vase that Mrs. B loved, the little trinkets and spice racks and bowls of food that were always on the counter every time I visited. And the sweet smell of newly cooked rice that always comforted me. Maybe I had emotionally emptied myself in the living room because this time the tears didn't fall. Instead there was an empty hollow feeling in my stomach. Maybe it was just indigestion. I sat on a built-in sofa below a long rectangular window where I could look at their backyard. Thick trees lined the edges of the property, offering privacy and shade. An explosion of colorful flowers bloomed in warmer weather in the garden. At night the string lights Tala and I looped in the trees gave the place a magical fairy-tale feel. On a circular stone patio, a firepit was surrounded by a rustic wood bench and Adirondack chairs that invited anyone to sit down a while, read a book or just stare into the fire. I loved spending time in this house with Tala. It felt like my second home. They'd probably put it up for sale once they leave.