I am on my second slice of cake my hands sticky with the vanilla bean icing when Fatima says, You won’t forget me, will you? I laugh and my knees go weak so I sit on the floor but Fatima swats at me. Don’t laugh, she says and her voice cracks, thick with emotion, driving a rushing river between us, with her on one side and me on the other bank. I want to swim back toward her, but for the first time ever, I’m not sure how.
