The Worst Best Man

by Mia Sosa

You know what? I’m never drinking again. No, wait. That’s an empty promise if ever there was one.

We must never let our emotions get the better of us; doing so is either a sign of weakness, one that diminishes our well-earned respect, or a mark of combativeness, which will cause people to say we’re irrational. And as women—women of color, more specifically—we simply can’t afford to be perceived in those terms.

I wish she’d give me a peek inside her brain. It’s where all the action happens, and it must be fascinating in there.

Oh, hell no. I’m not going to be his spy, or worse, his re-matchmaker.

But I want companionship, the security of knowing someone has my back, the ability to comfort and be comforted. Friendship. Vacations. Maybe even kids one day. Someone solid. Predictable. A person who doesn’t need passion and sparks to build a lasting relationship. I don’t know that I’ll ever find that individual—and that makes me extraordinarily sad.

“I’m going to be honest here and tell you I fucking hate that Andrew knows your secrets. He doesn’t deserve to.” Okay, then. I guess we’re talking about this whether I want to or not. “So, what? You think you do?” “I’d take better care of them,” he says softly.

“You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to the search.”

“I’m sorry you went through that. And I want to be a safe space for you. Whether as a friend or . . . something else is obviously up to you.”

If Lina let me, I’d be protective of her, too.

“I came here to spend time with you,” he says, “and if that means we talk about something that’s bothering you, then I don’t have a problem with that.

I’ll probably fall in love with him, that’s what. Because he’ll be the only man who’s seen my truest self and doesn’t think less of me for it.

Instead of worrying about living up to their standards, I need to focus on meeting my own. And while my mother’s and aunts’ lessons will always serve as a guide, what makes sense for them won’t always make sense for me. That doesn’t mean I’m failing; it just means I’m living my own life.

“I told you that I couldn’t be your second choice. Said there was too much history between Andrew and me to get past it. But I was wrong. Totally and completely wrong. It doesn’t matter if I’m your first or hundredth choice as long as I’m the right choice. And I am, Lina. I swear it. I’ll scale your walls to show you how much I care. And I’ll take every vulnerable part of you and handle it with care. I fucked up. I know this. But if you let me, I’ll spend the rest of my days proving to you that I’m your person. Because I love you.”

“And just so we’re clear,” I say. “You’re neither my first choice nor my second choice. You’re my only choice.”