The Week We Were Friends by Tembe Denton-Hurst

After deciding to be "just friends," Isabella and Rebecca realize they want more.

As spring days go, it was a mild one. It was the kind of day that sent New Yorkers from their homes in droves, picnic blankets tucked under their arms and books in their bags, sunglasses shielding faces or pushed back into hair. The kind of day that begat empty Citi Bike docking stations and a clog of activity on the Williamsburg Bridge. It was good weather for falling in love. Isabella and Rebecca had other plans.

At the main entrance of the park, Isabella held the picnic blankets and books in one hand, her anxiety in another. Rebecca held her tongue. The city moved around them. It was their fifth date and they were breaking up, as much as two people who have been on four dates in as many weeks can. Rebecca knew what was coming, she had a talent for spotting the end before it arrived, but she was nervous anyway. Isabella hoisted the picnic blankets higher under her arm, adjusted her bag strap.

“Should we do the long meadow? There will probably be a spot,” she said.

They walked past every type of person in Brooklyn: children on scooters with their parents lagging a few paces behind, people in low jeans and small T-shirts, runners in varying shades of black and neon, a man with thick locs down to his knees. As they made their way to the meadow, a large expanse of green, Rebecca thought of how Isabella might do it. Would she say, This is great, but … or, I’ve really been loving our time together, however … ? There were only so many variations, but the signs were there. More exclamation points, less off-the-cuff musings. It hadn’t alarmed Rebecca initially; they’d both been traveling, Rebecca to Cabo for a bachelorette trip, Isabella to Bard for a party her former classmates threw a couple times a year. But sometimes you just knew. Rebecca had spent the past few months in the same app loop — match, date, quasi-considerate exit. At this point, she would rather a text or a phone call, if only to expedite the process.

They found a spot next to a group of men, with similar haircuts and a portable grill, listening to Ethiopian jazz. They sat politely on either side of the blanket, confirming that this was not business as usual. They weren’t an overly affectionate couple, but in the short time they’d spent together, their bodies already negotiated space differently. They would find each other in the small gaps. If Rebecca sat down, Isabella would scoot close, their thighs touching, but now she was cross-legged on one corner of the blanket, so far that, if Isabella stuck a leg out, there would still be room.

It was clear Isabella was thinking, her pink mouth set to one side. Rebecca spoke first.

“So, how are you?” she said. “How was the party?”

Isabella told Rebecca about the party. She did not tell her she’d spent most of it thinking about what they were doing. There was nothing formal happening, no sworn oaths or promises of forever, but she had felt the expectation building. If she were being honest — and today was the day for honesty — it was freaking her out. She was trying to parse the difference between liking someone a lot and wanting to spend forever with them and could not tell where she landed. The romance novels she loved read like instruction manuals and she feared she was missing a few key components — like her heart whispering, This one. It’s absolutely, positively her. When you met your person you just knew. The sky would open up or there would be something in the way they said your name. There would be a feeling of inevitability, an ease. This hadn’t happened with any of her dates in all her months on Hinge. Rebecca was probably the closest, but love was a zero-sum game. It either was or it wasn’t.

“The party was good,” Isabella said.

“Nice,” Rebecca replied.

This would be difficult. Isabella knew that going in. She didn’t have a bad thing to say about Rebecca. She was kind and considerate. She was stunning, so much so that Isabella sometimes stared, tracing the shape of her with her eyes. She was funny and thoughtful and they had the same taste in TV. Isabella could imagine their days together, days like this where they could read side by side, talking only to relay a line that moved them. She missed it already, but her mind was set. Rebecca deserved certainty, the one thing Isabella didn’t have. Silence settled over them again.

“So,” Rebecca said, her patience fraying. “What’s up? What’s the vibe?”

“I think —” Isabella began. She stared at her hands and considered the best way to say this. “Look, I really like you but I don’t want to waste your time.”

“OK,” Rebecca said. Prepared or not, this was a shock to her system.

“I just don’t feel, like … I think I should maybe have more clarity? I know we’re moving forward and I really like you and love spending time together, but I also don’t know that I’m ready for whatever comes next,” Isabella said.

Rebecca nodded, turning Isabella’s words over. She wondered what she wasn’t saying.

Every date with Isabella reminded Rebecca why she continued to be open to love — the shared looks across a table, the flutter when someone you like walks through the door. She liked that Isabella was both bubbly and a bit serious. Liked that she showed up to their first date in a leather jacket and platform boots, not what she expected but better somehow, cooler than cool. Rebecca was not ready for Isabella to vanish from her life.

“So what next?” Rebecca said.

Isabella said nothing. The next steps were implied. They would part in the long meadow, shadows in each other’s lives. Maybe they would see each other in six months, eyes meeting across a room, a sea of women between them. Isabella sat back on her hands, putting her weight in her wrists. She didn’t love that idea. Meanwhile, Rebecca wondered why they couldn’t be some other thing. She thought of the rest of the people populating her life, friends acquired many ways, some of them exes. She considered where Isabella might fit.

“What if we were friends?” Rebecca asked.

“Friends?” Isabella said. She hadn’t thought about that. They were either together or they weren’t, she gave no space to the in-between. She did not know if it was possible, if her feelings could slough off like dead skin, eventually giving way to a platonic relationship where Rebecca could walk in a room and her heart would stay firmly in place. But losing her felt significantly worse. She didn’t want to lose Rebecca to time. She would rather be uncomfortable than to refer to her in the past tense.

“OK, yeah,” she said. “Let’s be friends.”

“I don’t know, it was too intense, but also not quite right, you know?” Isabella said later. She’d left the park buoyant. After they got past the sticky business of dissolving their romantic connection, the conversation picked up pace. They talked about what they were watching and the time they’d spent traveling. She felt triumphant, having achieved resolution without the grief. She said as much to her friend, Summer, recounting the “break-up” in vivid detail. She lay on Summer’s couch as if she were in a therapy session, staring at the ceiling, her hand resting on her belly. Her feet were tucked under her dog, Freya. Summer sat on the floor, alternating between listening and asking the necessary questions.

“I thought the dates were going well? Every update was deeply positive.”

“They were going well. But I just could see the end. Me hurting her because I wasn’t sure. She deserves me being certain.”

“She doesn’t have to be your soulmate right away,” Summer said. “You know that, right?”

Isabella laughed because she didn’t know if that was true. “I think when you know, you know.”

“Yeah, but how will you know if you don’t give it time?”

“Four dates is time!”

“But what was it? A couple weeks? I mean, trust your instincts, of course, but sometimes it takes a second. Don’t write her off.”

“I’m not writing her off, we’re friends.”

“Have you talked since the park?”

They had not. “A little. No more voice notes though. Which I’m sad about. Those were cute.”

“Friends voice-note. I think you two need to rip the Band-Aid off and hang out. See the vibes. Then give it some time to click, platonically speaking of course.”

“Of course,” Isabella replied.

The opportunity came sooner than expected. A co-worker mentioned the Prospect music festival, and Rebecca instantly came to mind. She forwarded a photo of the event. “Looks fun. Want to go?” she wrote. An hour passed. Then another. Friends invite friends to things, Isabella told herself.

Rebecca was on set when her phone vibrated. She was modeling for a clothing brand that sold dresses you could wear many ways. She assessed the message between looks. Checked her calendar. That Saturday was an expanse of availability. This will be good, she thought. Still, she knew on some level the transition wouldn’t be completely smooth. There was the initial awkwardness of someone sitting in a new space in your life, the potential infinite, but in a different direction. But they would have to start somewhere, right? A makeup brush tapped against her cheek and temple. Powder was applied gently under her eye.

“I’m down,” Rebecca wrote. “See you there.”

The week blitzed by and suddenly Isabella and Rebecca were face to face again, this time as something new. When their eyes met, Isabella felt something inside her flip. Nerves, maybe. Rebecca noted that Isabella looked different than before. The all-black outfits she’d grown used to replaced with a bright green top and a white skort that seemed to glow in the early summer light. It made her feel that lots of time had passed, even though it was just a week. Isabella attempted to ignore the thrumming in her chest. She didn’t think Rebecca would get less beautiful or charming, but rather that declaring them friends would bring her feelings into line.

“Hi,” Rebecca said, her smile bright.

“Hi,” Isabella said.

They walked close together, pressing through the crowd. Park Slope was teeming with people and music blared from every which way. People milled around like ants in a colony, orderly but kinetic, everyone on an unspoken path. Rebecca reached for her hand so they wouldn’t lose each other and Isabella felt a shock of energy between their palms. When they made it to a less dense part of the street, Rebecca let go, and Isabella wished they were still deep in the throng, Rebecca pulling her through.

Friends, Isabella thought. Just friends.

Friends, Rebecca thought. We can do friends.

They eventually found the jazz stage. There was something about the saxophone and its soul-tugging notes that closed the space between their bodies. Isabella let her head rest on Rebecca’s shoulder and Rebecca said nothing, enjoying the feeling of her soft hair. When that ended they migrated to a DJ playing house music and they couldn’t help but dance, their hands intertwined, taking turns spinning and shaking, moving this way and that.

I don’t know if I can do friends, Isabella thought.

It’s not giving friends, Rebecca thought. She tried to assess if she minded. It was a thought for later, one to turn over with her sisters.

“Isabella?” A voice behind them called.

It was a friend from work, the same one who’d told Isabella about the festival.

“Marnie, hi!” she said, hugging her quickly.

“Hey girl, good to see you out here, I’m glad you made it.”

“Me too.”

Isabella gestured to Rebecca. “Marnie, this is my friend Rebecca,” she said, though the word “friend” didn’t sound quite right.

The day was winding down. The sun hung heavy over the brownstones, warming their skin. “I need to take the dog out,” Isabella said. It had been hours, but when they were together time passed quickly.

“OK,” Rebecca said, readying herself to leave.

“Do you want to come?”

“Sure.”

They walked the couple of blocks to Isabella’s place. Isabella’s hand found Rebecca’s. Definitely not friends, Rebecca thought, but she said nothing, letting the moment breathe. She’d asked the universe to bring her everything meant for her, to release her from the need to control. It was an exercise in trusting that good things could find their way to her without her hand on the wheel.

When they arrived at the park, the sun was nearly set, casting orange everywhere. Not yet summer, there was a breeze. Isabella’s dog, Freya, stopped often, interested in the base of trees, the squirrels, other dogs. Rebecca talked like she always did, about the modeling jobs in various states of confirmation. One thing looked like it would work out, another was up in the air. Isabella was engaged but it was clear that she was thinking about something. Weighing an outcome, maybe.

Eventually, she spoke.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Isabella said.

They found a park bench and Freya sat up proud-chested, on guard.

“I think we’re starting to build up a reputation with parks,” Rebecca said with a small smile. The humor smothered the nervous feeling blooming in her belly. “But talk to me. What’s up?”

“I don’t think I can be your friend.”

Now Rebecca’s stomach flipped. A low hum of anxiety danced across her skin. She felt better prepared the second time around, but only slightly. She stared out at the field in front of them and tried not to jump to quick conclusions. Isabella could mean anything by that. The handholding and meaningful looks from earlier in the day perhaps another extended goodbye. “OK, so what does that mean?”

“I want more,” Isabella said.

Rebecca was shocked to hear it. It had barely been a week.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I’m a little surprised, if I’m being honest.”

“I know,” Isabella said, sighing. “I’m sorry for being confusing, but I think I’m finally ready to get out of my own way. Looking back, I realize it had nothing to do with you or how I felt about you and everything to do with me being scared. I needed the week to understand that.”

“OK, but how do I know you won’t change your mind again?” Rebecca said. There were limits to her understanding. “I like you too but I also don’t want us to be in a cycle of renegotiating our relationship every few dates.”

“Because I know that I can commit to this,” Isabella said. “I’m not saying girlfriends tomorrow, but if it heads in that direction I’m willing to walk with you and see where it goes. I don’t want to stop walking with you. But at the same time I also get if you don’t want to because I’ve been confusing.”

“OK,” Rebecca said, exhaling the breath she’d held. There was fear but, at the edges of it, relief. It hadn’t been long enough for her to stop wishing they’d end up in this exact place. She looked at Isabella, counted the moles dotting her face. She thought of the future. She envisioned them on a bench in the botanical gardens, cherry blossoms dancing in the wind, landing in their hair. She thought of Freya curling up on her feet while they watched movies. Trips to blue water and matching tan lines. She liked the idea of it. She could see it clearly. Still, part of her mind resisted, even as her heart tugged at her hesitation. Maybe it’s worth the risk, her heart whispered. “Let’s see,” Rebecca said. “I’d like to see.”

Tembe Denton-Hurst (known on the internets as @tembae) is a writer at “New York Magazine” and the author of the novel “Homebodies,” which the NYT Book Review called a “sharp, charming, and passionate debut.” She also writes the bestselling newsletter, Extracurricular, where she writes about books and the culture surrounding it. When she’s not writing, Tembe can be found on her couch in Queens where she lives with her wife and their two cats, Stella and Dakota.