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“You know it’s the middle of the night and it’s freezin’ out, don’t you?” George asks.
He hadn’t been expecting a call from Alanna; they’re still friends, of course, will always be friends, but she hasn’t been back much since she went off to college. He’d assumed the call was just a drunken mistake or misdial, but instead she’d said, “I’m outside your place and I need ice cream. Come down.”
She pushes her hands deeper into her pockets; Alanna hates cold. “So?” she snaps.
“So I tend to prefer hot chocolate when it’s cold. Lava cake. Fresh cookies. Anythin’ but ice cream, honestly.”
“I want ice cream,” she says again, stubborn.
“And the ice cream here is so much better you drove three hours just to get it?” he asks. “Nothin’ is even open except CVS. You’re not gettin’ anythin’ special.”
“If you don’t want to come with me, I’ll leave.”
He puts his arm around her. “Don’t leave. Just tell me what I can do.”
“I already told you. Get ice cream with me.”
“Sure,” he says, but leaves his arm over her shoulders.
He worried about Alanna all through high school; she’s three years younger than he is, and she was skipped ahead a grade, tiny and scrappy, a chip on her shoulder larger than she was, always getting her into trouble. He’d thought college sounded like it was going all right, though. She had a bunch of friends and even a boyfriend, which–he’d tried not to be jealous over that. He and Alanna have never been like that, and he’s made it clear that he’d like them to be. But she doesn’t feel the same, so he’s not going to force the issue.
She came to him, and he can be here for her. It’s enough.
“You stayin’ here for Christmas this year?” he asks, once he feels like they’ve been quiet for long enough. “Done with classes already?”
“I have to go back for a finals, but–yeah, I’ll be home again after that.” She looks resolutely up at the sky. “My boyfriend wanted me to go home with him and meet his family, and I said I couldn’t, and it turned into this big fight about–everything. He thinks I’m not emotionally available and I know he wants to get married soon and I don’t think I’m ready, and he’s really in the public eye and I don’t want to be, and he–” She lets out a ragged breath. “We both said a lot of shitty things, and it’s over.”
“Sorry.”
“Ice cream is traditional, right? I’m supposed to eat ice cream and watch shitty movies and feel better.”
“That’s one of the options,” he says. “I think it’s mostly up to you. What do you think’ll make you feel better? If it’s ice cream, it’s ice cream. That’s fine by me.”
She’s quiet for a long time, until they’re in front of the freezer at CVS, looking at the bright rows of ice cream cartons together. “Why do you think I came all the way out here?” she asks.
“Hm?”
“I came here so you can make me feel better. I miss you, you know. I just–” She lets out an irritated huff. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to be there. I know how to be with you.”
“Well, you’re welcome to come be with me any time you want,” he says, keeping his voice light. “Always happy to see you.” He squeezes her shoulder. “Whatever you need, Alanna. Always. Doesn’t matter how long it’s been. I’ll always be good for that.”
“You will, won’t you,” she says, a smile playing around her lips. “We’re getting this.” It’s a giant carton of chocolate ice cream with brownie bits. The most possible chocolate, of course.
“Good,” he says. “Good start. What’s next?”
She follows him back to his shitty studio apartment, and they curl up on his bed with the ice cream and watch Die Hard, because he’s only got so many movies.
“Sorry I can’t offer you anythin’ fancier,” he says. “Don’t do a lot of entertainin’ these days.”
She leans her head against his shoulder. “This is exactly what I wanted. You’re doing fine.”
“Well,” he says, smiling just a little. He can let himself have that. “Good. Let me know if I stop, then.”
“You won’t,” she says, so sure it nearly breaks his heart.
“I probably will,” he says. “Sooner or later. But I’ll get back to doin’ fine again, once I figure it out.”
“Sounds like a promise,” she says, and her voice doesn’t quite come out teasing. He’s not sure how it comes out. Wistful, maybe. Different than he’s ever heard.
“Sure, let’s call it that.”
She nods once, just barely, and then pokes him with her spoon. "Okay, that’s enough. Shut up and eat the ice cream until I feel better.”
“I thought you were the one supposed to be eatin’ it.”
“It makes me feel better when you eat it,” she says. “Less guilty for calling you in the middle of the night and forcing you to take me out for ice cream.”
“And god forbid you feel bad for that,” he teases. “Wouldn’t want you feelin’ guilty over nothing.”
He digs his spoon in and they eat in silence for a minute. Finally, Alanna says, soft, “But really, thanks.”
“Like I said. Always. Now pipe down. I’m watchin’ this.”