“I never understood why you wanted her to make you over and find you a man anyway,” my best friend forever, Brooklyn, said as I told her about what had happened at the library. Brooklyn was exasperated with me. “She’s a mean little b***h that is living the best years of her life right now. In a couple of years, she’ll marry some asshole, knock out a few babies, and have a drinking problem as hubby comes home later and later.”
She was sitting on the steps of our building with me, dressed in dark blue jeans, a white turtleneck sweater that skimmed halfway down her thighs, and black boots. Her sable hair was in neat braids down her back, and she barely wore makeup, other than a maroon shade of lipstick that made her entire face become, somehow, more beautiful. I looked at her and wished I c
