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Growing up, Samira didn’t have a lot of friends. She wasn’t sure why. Even looking back on it now, she couldn’t quite figure out why the other kids had stayed away from her. Some of it was racism, for sure, but even with the other brown kids, she never really fit in. Maybe it was how nerdy she’d always been? She honestly wasn’t sure. She didn’t think she would ever find out.
But she had hoped, as most lonely children do, that it would get better when she grew up. But it hadn’t really.
She had been a lonely child.
And now she was a lonely adult.
But Samira was going to change that. After the PittFest shooting, something in her had changed. She had felt so connected to everyone in the ER, a type of connection she’d never felt before. She had also been sharply reminded of her own mortality in a way she was usually able to not think about when patients died.
Her life could end tomorrow, and she would die lonely.
People often talked about the fear of dying alone. But Samira never really liked that way of phrasing it. Most people didn’t die alone. Even if they were not surrounded by loved ones, they were likely surrounded by doctors and nurses.
Samira didn’t think she would die alone. But she was terrified that she might die lonely. That the little child inside of her would never get to see things get better.
“Hey,” Samira said, walking up to Mel, who was by her locker, packing up her things before leaving. Samira felt like she was seven, approaching a girl at the playground to ask if she wanted to play with her.
Mel turned and looked at her with the sunny smile she seemed to give everyone. “Samira! How are you?”
“I’m good,” she said. “I just, uh, I noticed that we both have a day off on Thursday, so I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to…” Samira paused, not exactly sure what she was asking.
Mel’s face twisted apologetically. “I have a bunch of stuff I need to do on Thursday. I have to clean my entire apartment, do the laundry, go grocery shopping and then make dinner before I go pick up Becca at the center.” She smiled a little. “You know how days off are, just catching up on all the things I can’t do when I work.” She searched Samira’s face, as if looking for confirmation.
It was true; Samira also had things she technically needed to do on Thursday. But… She also really needed a friend she could hang out with outside of work.
“I can help you with that stuff,” Samira said. “I don’t mind cleaning, and, I mean, I’d love to meet Becca.”
Mel paused, clearly not expecting that. “Uh… I can’t ask you to do that…”
“I’m asking,” Samira said, then added a smile because she didn’t want to seem too desperate.
“I mean…” Mel looked down at her hands, which Samira only now noticed were twisting nervously. Shit, was she messing this up? “Okay, I don’t mean to sound rude, but I don’t really want you to clean my apartment and touch my things, but… If you’re sure you want to, then you can come grocery shopping with me? And then we can make dinner together, and we can watch a movie with Becca – if Becca wants, I’ll have to ask her first.” Mel took a deep breath, then said, “Does that sound okay?”
Samira smiled, feeling a little guilty that she’d made Mel do her nervous rambling thing she sometimes did, but mostly feeling overjoyed that she had plans on her day off. Which she hadn’t had in maybe forever.
“That sounds great, Mel. I’m really looking forward to it.”
Samira met Mel at her local grocery store. It was kind of hard to find, because Samira was not familiar with this part of Pittsburgh at all — or any part that she didn’t live in. But eventually she was there, waving to Mel, who looked as excited as Samira felt. Maybe she wasn’t the only one with a virtually non-existent social life.
“That’s a really pretty dress,” Mel said as a way of greeting.
Samira grinned. She’d put on a yellow summer dress that she’d never had the chance to wear – because why the hell not? She was being social, hanging out with a friend. Even if they were only going grocery shopping and watching a movie, it was more of a reason to dress up than Samira had had in a while.
Samira thought about the yellow dress she’d worn on her very first day of elementary school, ready to make friends for life. No one had complimented it then. Today, it was the first thing Mel said to her.
“Thank you,” Samira said. “You look great with your hair down!”
Mel blushed, tucking a piece of her loose golden hair behind her ear. “Thanks.” She held up her phone. “I have a list here, but most things Becca and I want are very particular – we can’t just eat any kind of cereal, you know? So, if it’s okay, I’ll do all the shopping and you can just keep me company?”
Samira nodded. “That sounds like a good plan.”
Growing up, Samira had listened to her peers talk about everything they did together outside of school. They went to the movies, they went shopping, they went bowling. For a second, walking into this unfamiliar grocery store, Samira could pretend that she was ten, walking into a store alone with a friend for the first time to buy ice cream with some money they made selling lemonade.
The image quickly faded, leaving Samira with a feeling of whiplash. Maybe it was the anniversary of her father’s death coming up that was dredging up all these … nostalgic, painful feelings. Maybe it was the shock of PittFest still clinging on to her. Maybe it was the fact that Samira hadn’t hung out with a friend since practically kindergarten. Maybe Samira was just like this sometimes. Regardless of what it was, it left her reeling, struggling to breathe for a moment before Mel softly touched her arm.
“Samira? Are you okay?”
Samira nodded automatically. “Yes, I just… I’m a little tired.”
“Yeah, yesterday was a day, huh?” Mel said.
Samira nodded. She closed her eyes, desperate for something else to talk about. “So…” she said, opening her eyes as Mel grimaced at the price of the cereal before putting in the shopping cart. “Do you have a significant other?”
Samira wasn’t really sure why she was doing this. It just felt like the thing she was supposed to do. This was what women talked about, right? Girl talk. Gossip and sleepovers and talking about boyfriends.
Immediately after having that thought, Samira realized how sexist it was, and regretted opening her mouth.
“Uh, no,” Mel said. She looked over at Samira as they walked towards the dairy aisle. “Do you?”
Samira shook her head.
“Oh.” Mel blinked. “That’s a little surprising, honestly, because you’re so pretty.”
Samira smiled, though she wasn’t entirely sure how to take that. It was nice to be called pretty, of course, but the assumption that she had a partner just because she was pretty felt … strange.
“Sorry, was that weird?” Mel rushed to say. “I just mean, like. I mean, you are really pretty. But, of course, that doesn’t mean you have partner, I just assumed that maybe a fair amount of people approach you, but–”
“It’s okay,” Samira said, trying to gently save Mel from her nervous rambling. “I, uh, I do get approached a lot.” A small, uncomfortable shiver ran through her at the thought of just how many people had flirted with her over the years. “But I’m not really … interested.”
Mel furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”
“I… Uh…”
Was Samira really about to come out — for the very first time — right here in the dairy aisle? As Mel was putting a carton of milk in her shopping cart? Was this really the moment?
“I’m aromantic and asexual,” Samira said, her voice a few pitches higher than it should’ve been.
Mel froze, the carton of milk still in her hand. “Oh.”
Samira smiled nervously, gently taking the milk out of Mel’s hand and setting it down in the shopping cart. “Yeah. Oh.”
Mel blinked rapidly a few times. Then she smiled. “Thank you for telling me, Samira. It means a lot that you trust me with this.”
“Oh.” Samira couldn’t help but smile at the sincerity in Mel’s voice. “I… No problem, Mel.”
“This is great, actually,” Mel said, “because I’ve been reading recently about medical discrimination against asexual people, and I’ve been wondering if there’s anything we could do better at the PTMC. I’ve thought about conducting an anonymous survey or something, but maybe you have some thoughts that you’d like to share with me? Only if you want to, of course! I get it if it’s too personal.”
Samira could only stare at Mel, a little awestruck. She was used to being the one who did research on marginalized groups in the hospital, the one who fought for better healthcare for those often overlooked. But here Mel was, wanting to do the exact same thing, and she wasn’t even part of the group she wanted to fight for.
It was as if a small weight lifted off Samira’s shoulders. She wasn’t alone in this anymore.
“I do have some thoughts, actually,” Samira said. “And I’d love to share them.”
For the rest of the shopping trip and the walk back to Mel’s apartment, Samira told Mel all about her experiences and thoughts on the topic. When they sat down on Mel’s couch to take a small break before making dinner, Samira’s throat was a little raw. But her heart was fluttering.
They made lasagne. One of Becca’s favorite dishes, apparently. Samira was impressed by Mel’s cooking skills, and Mel was impressed by Samira's lack of them.
“How do you survive on your own?” Mel asked, clearly trying not to laugh.
“I know how to do the basics!” Samira defended, giving up on the onion she was cutting because she could barely see her own hands through her tears. “I’m just bad with onions, okay?”
“Right,” Mel said, still laughing silently.
“And, also, I eat a lot of takeout,” Samira added.
“To be fair, so do I,” Mel said. “But it’s a lot cheaper to make home cooked meals, so…” Mel shrugged. “Also, Becca is pretty particular about food, and I know how to accommodate her while also making things that aren’t just pizza or pasta.”
Samira leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Mel expertly cut the onion Samira had given up on.
“You’re a really good sister, Mel.” Samira thought about her brother, who lived on the other side of the country. They talked a few times a year, maybe. Samira longed for the kind of connection Mel had with Becca. Mel had a best friend for life. Samira was so jealous it hurt.
She and her brother had been closer when they were younger. More similar to Mel and Becca, though Samira assumed Mel and Becca were kinder to each other than Samira and her brother had been. Still. They’d played, they’d talked, they’d hung out.
Samira wasn’t sure what had happened. Why everything, even him, had grown out of her reach.
“Thank you,” Mel said softly.
Samira didn’t know what more to say, so they were both silent for a while. Mel cooking, Samira watching her. It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. It was the kind of companionable, comfortable silence Samira had only read about before. She almost hadn’t believed it was real.
But, here she was, feeling completely comfortable in Mel’s presence without having to say a word.
While the lasagna was in the oven, Mel went to pick up Becca. Samira was charged with making sure the apartment didn’t burn down, and also taking the lasagna out of the oven when the timer beeped. Which she was very capable of doing, despite what Mel’s teasing remarks could make an outside viewer believe.
Just after Samira had taken the lasagna out of the open, she heard the door open. She let out a nervous breath — she was meeting the Becca King, this was not something to take lightly — and went to greet them.
“Hi,” Samira said, walking into the hallway, where Becca and Mel were currently taking off her shoes. “I’m Samira.”
Becca looked up at her – or more at her shoulder, really. “Hello. I’m Becca.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you. Mel talks a lot about you.”
“Really?” Becca looked over at her sister with a grin. “What does she say?”
“All good things,” Samira promised. “She’s told me you’re her best friend in the whole world.”
Becca beamed. “Mel’s also my best friend.”
Mel smiled. “Yeah, I’d hope so.”
“Did you guys make lasagna?” Becca closed her eyes. “It smells so good!”
“That’s all Mel,” Samira said with an embarrassed laugh.
Becca also laughed. “Mel said you’re really bad at cooking.”
Samira gasped. “Mel! Really?”
Mel shrugged, grinning. “I can’t lie to my sister!”
Becca walked past Samira to the kitchen, exclaiming, “It looks amazing, Mel!”
“Right?” Samira agreed, following Becca to the kitchen.
Becca started rocking on her feet, moving her arms around, clearly an expression of happiness. Samira watched her for a moment, then made a promise to herself to try to learn more about autism.
They ate the lasagna, which truly was amazing, then sat down to watch a movie. Becca picked Elf, which they’d clearly seen many times before based on Mel’s expression. Samira hadn’t though, so she had the joy of sharing her first, real-time reactions to the movie with Becca. Becca was overjoyed by this, pausing the movie several times throughout so she could hear Samira’s thoughts and predictions, laughing any time Samira said something that later turned out to be very wrong.
Samira was so unfamiliar with this. It felt almost like the kind of sleepover she’d never gotten to have as a child, too ostracized to ever be invited. She still didn’t know what happened at those sleepovers, but she could imagine it was a little like this; all of them on the couch together, wrapped in soft blankets, eating popcorn and picking apart a movie. They were all adults, they’d all had a glass of wine, and Samira wasn’t sleeping over because both she and Mel had work tomorrow, but it still healed part of the little girl in her heart.
Maybe it was simply the fact that she finally felt like she was hanging out with friends.
No, scratch that. It didn’t just feel like it. She was hanging out with friends.
So, as she sat there with Mel and Becca, she wrapped her younger self in her arms and finally promised what she never could before:
“It gets better.”