Free Sunrise Fires by Heather LaBarge

married.
    And there she stood now in the baggage claim, unaware that I was approaching. As soon as I saw her, I felt calm. I wanted a cup of coffee and a drive around the block. I approached at a normal pace, enjoying watching her without her realizing I was there. Her long thick black hair was tied back in a single pony running down her back, her lips colored a natural rose hue, and her coral rouge bringing out her Puerto Rican olive skin. Her complexion was perfect, her skin always silky, and she smelled of the tropics.
    “Boo!” I said, sneaking up behind her.
    She turned around with eyes like razors, and then softened immediately. “You know I might’ve cut you if there wasn’t something familiar in that voice,” she warned.
    I shrugged and then hugged her. “You know I got ninja moves. Never would’ve been a scratch on me.”
    “You must’ve forgotten who you’re talking to.” She sucked her lips and feigned irritation.
    “Gonna be a long weekend with you, I see. You do know I have only a couple of days, right?”
    She hugged me. “No. It’s not that. It’s just been a long morning.” Her tone lightened. “How was your flight?”
    We talked about the cheap airlines I had used for this flight—how cramped the cabin was, how unorganized the gate processing had been, and so forth. Eventually, my bag came, and we headed out into the beautiful California summer air.
    We spent the weekend talking, shopping, and planning her trip up to Vegas the following month. We’d been friends for so long at this point that each time we saw each other needn’t be filled with special occasions—presence was enough. She was the one I trusted implicitly, the one who knew me, the only person to whom no door was locked. It was no surprise then when she started the conversation about the impact that Germany might have on my feelings about Ryan.
    “So, hun, how are you feeling about Ryan and you?”
    “Talia, I love him so much, and things are so amazing between us.”
    “And Germany? Did you ever get that sorted out—your feelings about him staying while you leave?” I looked at my hands. I couldn’t pretend with Talia. I couldn’t act like it was going to be okay, that I had faith, and that the sky was filled with stars and rainbows. I knew she would want the truth, and I really needed to vent it out anyway.
    I took a deep breath. “We talked it out, and I supposedly feel better about it. And we’ll call and IM and Skype and e-mail, and things will be great, and…” I paused for effect, and then began singing in the softest whisper, “Pink fluffy unicorns dancing on rainbows…?”
    She laughed and joined me in singing the meme, and then she put an arm around me. “Oh, honey, is it really feeling that bad?”
    “A lump in my throat, Talia. A pill I can’t swallow. I really don’t think we’ll last a year. I bet we won’t last ‘til Christmas.”
    “You might,” she began weakly. “I mean, Jen, this guy loves you pretty seriously. So, unless you force the issue, I doubt it’s going to simply end because he got bored waiting. He doesn’t strike me as that kind of guy.”
    “He isn’t. But long distance doesn’t work.”
    She pursed her lips and made a sound like she was trying to cough up a hairball. “Really? That simple, huh? ‘Long distance doesn’t work?’ That’s what you’re going with?”
    “It’s true.”
    She rubbed my back. “I hate to be the bearer of logic here. I realize that you wanna live in some other world where logic doesn’t exist, but one of my jobs is to keep your perspective aligned to some variation of realistic. Sure, yep, you guys might break up, but probably not because long distance doesn’t work. Let’s just get that part outta the way. How long were you guys together before you ever met?”
    “We weren’t.”
    “Weren’t you talking for like two years or something?”
    “Talking isn’t together .” I air quoted ‘together’ and said it snidely.
    “I