You Look Different in Real Life

past the camera. Instantly, I know what he’s saying is true, and I also know that on his side of the lens, Nate is feeling the same thing. He must. Something has changed and I feel like we’re equals in this conversation.
    “Yes,” I finally say. “I am.”
    “But do you actually want to be friends again? I mean, do you truly want to hang out and do stuff and have it be the way it was? If it even could be in a million years?”
    I haven’t thought about that. I’ve only ever thought about getting to I forgive you. Holy crap. I don’t yet see us together on the other side of that.
    I’m aware of what my face would look like on camera, if it were flipped around. I can even see it framed, the window of the restaurant behind me. I wish I were shootingit. Maybe the least I can do is keep things going, build on them.
    “What about you?” I ask Nate. “And Felix?”
    Nate glances up to see if Felix is coming, but he’s nowhere in sight.
    “I hope every day that he changes his mind,” he says matter-of-factly. “But in the meantime, I’ve moved on.”
    Changes his mind?
    Now the waiter appears with our nachos and three small plates. Nate digs in and I put the camera down so I can eat too.
    “Dear God,” he says, chewing. “This is good.”
    I can’t not ask. Even without the camera recording, if I don’t pick up this notion it might drop and roll away forever.
    “What do you mean, you hope he changes his mind?”
    Felix reappears, seemingly from nowhere because I’ve been focused on this conversation. “Changes whose mind?” he asks, grabbing a tortilla chip covered with guacamole before his butt is even completely in the chair.
    “Yours,” I say.
    Felix freezes, the chip halfway to his mouth, the guacamole sliding off. He looks at Nate. A terrible look, full of anger and betrayal. He flicks the chip back at the plate and slaps his hand on the table.
    “You asshole!” says Felix. “You told her!”
    “I didn’t!” snaps Nate.
    “I knew it was only a matter of time, with you guys suddenly so chummy.”
    “Oh, Felix, give it a rest. I made you a promise and I’ve kept it all this time. Why would I break it now? Especially now?”
    Their voices are raised enough so that people are looking at us, even the jaded New Yorkers who aren’t supposed to be fazed by anything. I feel like I just walked into the middle of a play and have no idea what’s going on in the plot.
    The camera sits on the table. I can’t believe I’m not recording this, whatever this is.
    Felix narrows his eyes at Nate, and Nate does not waver. He sits still with his gaze lasered at Felix, so intense I would be afraid to cross the beam for fear of getting vaporized.
    “Felix,” says Nate slowly. “We were talking about you changing your mind about being sorry you came. That was it.”
    Felix turns to me and I nod. Hating the lie. Hating not knowing what I’m covering for.
    “Nate?” asks someone behind us, a voice quivering and unsure.
    We all turn to see Keira standing on the sidewalk. Her mouth hangs open, her brow scrunched. It is so unlike her. She seems tiny compared with the tall buildings around us. I notice she’s dressed in a dramatic red V-neck sweater and skinny jeans, but with hiking boots, and somehowthis outfit she packed for the Aikya Lodge looks quirky-chic in the city.
    Nate bursts out of his seat and steps toward her. He wants to reach out, to touch, to hug. But he holds back.
    “What the hell are you doing here?” Keira asks slowly, not angry but overwhelmingly confused. She looks at Felix and me, lumping us in with her question.
    “We wanted to be there,” says Nate. His voice catches in his throat. She’s made him nervous. “For you . . . if you should need it.”
    “How did you . . .”
    But Keira’s brain seems to be doing its job, because I can actually see the process of her figuring it out. The first address. The second. I slide the camera off the table and keep it in my lap. I’m not going to push my luck by turning it on right now, but that familiar tug is too much and I want it ready.
    “Are you mad?” asks Nate. He turns on his trademark charm. “We ditched Lance and Leslie. We took off right in front of them, and it was all kinds of awesome.”
    Keira relaxes a little, but shakes her head with affectionate disapproval like you would at a puppy who just peed on the rug. “I know you mean well, Nate. I know you’re worried about me. I don’t blame you.” Their eyes