Chapter 11
“Do you even have your license, Tarek?”
He shakes his head. “I left it in my apartment. Does it matter right now?”
“Guess not.”
And we continue with the day, delivering unsellable books to the small free libraries around the surrounding communities. He reaches for my left hand and I give it to him, shaky and sweaty. He doesn’t squeeze it. He doesn’t caress the back of it with a finger or two. We let them rest together on the middle of the front seat on top of the pair of empty drink holders, until we reach the next library. Silence. Pure quiet. Nothing. But everything.
We are friends. Only friends. Best friends. Forgiving friends who understand each other. And always will, I tell myself.
Such a hard gift to find in life.
* * * *
Years later…