The night before I go, Xander and Li request my presence at Ramen Dinner. 

It’s an old tradition from college, one I started midway through our sophomore years but haven’t attended regularly for the last six months.
          I’ve been too busy packing. And too busy avoiding them.
          We hold the dinner at Xander’s. He has the biggest kitchen, and Li’s
neighbors are loud and frequently stumble back into the complex at inopportune hours drunk off their asses. I still live in the guest bed at my mother’s; it’s no longer my room and hasn’t been for a long time.

          I see Li in the corner of the doorway, fixing her long hair back into a beige hair clip. The usual black strands settle against her forehead.
          Her thin hands are smothered in the paws of her green sweater. The fabric drowns her thin form, but I haven’t talked to her recently enough to launch into a conversation about her fashion choices. Or her eating habits.
          I take a breath before knocking.
          Li answers the door, but her gaze shoots back over her shoulder within a millisecond of her seeing me: “Layla’s here!”
          Li yells, but then she turns shy.
          Her thin olive lips are pressed together, one side turned up for an almost smile. She looks at me for a few seconds this time. Tilts her head to the left a little.
          “Hi.”
          “May I-”
          “Don’t tell me you’re keeping her in the doorway again,” Xander pipes up, I assume from the kitchen.
          Cooking used to be a me and Li thing while Xander snacked on Kit Katcandy bars from the bowl he kept in the middle of the table. There’d be at least three or four tiny wrappers by the time we set the steaming bowl in front of him.
          I’m not sure when he took to cooking. Ramen Dinner responsibilities have seemingly shifted over the last few months. Likely due to my absences. “I’m not-”
          Li moves. There’s a hand movement. I walk in, the door closing behind me. A squirrel jumps into a bush. I catch it right as I turn into his living room. The leaves rustle. They’re a myriad of greenish reds and yellows; it’s almost the turn of the season.
          It’s never that much different than I remember it. Summer bleeding back into autumn in Marion. The photos on the dusty mantel; the three of us on graduation day of college and high school, Xander and Li when he got the new house; Xander and his parents at an anniversary of their restaurant. The armchair from his late father. The few books he still keeps from college.
          Xander hovers over the stove. There’s two burners on. The fan above the oven is switched to HI.
          There’s also some pop song playing in the background, clearly from Xander’s playlist. Li only listens to instrumentals or Vietnamese music. “Hey, Layla!” Xander calls. “Made your favorite.”
          I ruffle his short hair when I pass him on the way towards the table. Xander’s had a buzz cut for the entirety of the time I’ve known him, a time pretty close to his entire life.
          “Watch the hair,” He chuckles, no real bite behind it.
          Li follows me into the kitchen, once again playing with the sleeves of her sweater. I go to the far side of the kitchen table, leaning into my palms. Li lingers against the half wall. There’s a wallpaper strip of brown leaves around the perimeter of the room.
          “That’s nice of you,” I say.
          “Well, we won’t see you for six months, so-” Xander says.
          Xander stares at the pot, not looking at me. Maybe in his mind, he thinks it makes it sound like less of a guilt trip. It doesn’t, not to me anyway. I glance back towards Li. She isn’t smiling, and she rolls her eyes. “I thought we weren’t guilt tripping,” Li said.
          I chuckle. I’m brought back to a conversation from our junior year. It makes me smile harder. Guilt tripping is a hard habit to break, especially for us.
          “I’m not,” his voice cracks.
          His eyes widen as he keeps rambling.
          “I’m not, I’m not. That would be manipulative and uncalled for.”
          “Okay, yeah,” I say.
          It doesn’t stop him from continuing on about my new assignment. Not that we had an in-person conversation about it. No.
          I sent three short messages to the group chat last week, saying I’d be gone and that it was one of our old professors from Stanford who put me in contact with the right people for this job. They’d sent messages, asking at least twenty questions, but I didn’t exactly answer them, which is probably why I’m here tonight.
          “Anyway. So. Puerto Rico, huh?”
          There’s a poor attempt at ‘casual’ in his voice.
          “Yeah,” I say.
          “I thought you were against-”
          I tell myself I won’t fall for it. It’s a goad. Not even a subtle one. There was a time when we banned politics at these dinners. Xander’s a little insufferable in that realm; it was really for everyone’s own good. But I can’t help myself. Not really.
          “There’s no deal where we give it up,” I snapped at him. “America doesn’t like to lose so there isn’t, but there is a deal where the relationship between our two nations is good for them. There’s a deal where it’s not just-”
          “Colonization,” Li and Xander said simultaneously.
          I’m a broken record really. I sigh and take a seat at the table. A beat passes between the three of us.
          “Well, now that that’s out of the way, how have you been?” Xander asks. I look at the two of them. Xander gives one last stir to the pot before stepping to the side to open a cabinet. He brings down three bowls and grabs a ladle from the silverware vase.
          “No radio silence allowed at Ramen Dinner,” Li says, half joking and half serious. “We haven’t heard from you in weeks, and then you drop news of a new job across the country. Really, Layla?”
          “Mainly just talking to Mom. She’s worried about the trip.”
          Li raises an eyebrow.
          “And what the job means for my career,” I add.
          Xander grabs two of the bowls and sets them on the table before turning back on his heel, heading back for his own bowl of ramen.
          “I haven’t left the house much,” I admit. “David’s called a lot though. Mainly preparations. Making sure we’re on the same page in terms of what we’re trying to achieve there.”
          “You’re not worried you’ll do more damage?” he asked me.
          “I literally just said-”
          “Xander,” Li interrupts.

         “Sorry, sorry, Jesus.” Under his breath, he adds: “but she brought the job back up, so...”
          I grab the chopsticks placed to the right of my bowl and take a helping of ramen, stuffing the food into my mouth as soon as possible. Li does a similar thing. Xander keeps talking, fiddling with the sticks as words spill out of his mouth.
          “That doesn’t sound busy enough to not text us back. I assumed you were actually out of state with how-”
          “Xander.”
          “Do you want me to stop talking then or-” Xander spit out.
          “Can we just have a good night?” Li sighs. “Or are you just gonna be a guy about this?”
          Xander takes a helping of ramen into his mouth and chews. I do the same. Li looks at the two of us.
          “I’m not being a guy about it.”
          “Really,” the disbelief oozes from her words.
          “How’s your pharmacy job going?” I ask him.
          It’s a surefire way to get him talking for an hour without having to worry about it veering back into politics.
          It works.

I’m about to start heading for my shoes and coat when Li presses her fingers against my wrist. I frown and look at her.
          She’s still sitting in her chair at the table, but one of her legs is bent and tucked under her. Her left sleeve is rolled up to her elbow. Her right hand tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.
          “I don’t want you to die,” she says.
          I chuckle. “It’s a diplomatic trip. No one’s dying.”
          “I thought they took the big guns on things like these,” Li said. “You-I-,” she sighed, frowned once more, before raising her head.
          “Xander!” she yelled, her voice echoing off the walls: “Come back down here. I-I’m not relaying this conversation to you later, and I need you to explain how I know this to begin with.

          Her fingers loosen their grip on my wrist but I don’t try to go anywhere.
Instead, I wait for the loud footsteps echoing down the upstairs hall. Then, the creaking of the floorboards as Xander descends the stairs.
          “What conversation are you having? You banned me from asking about it and then you do it?”
          “I didn’t ask questions! I just told her not to die.”
          “She’s not going to fucking die,” he says right as he steps down off the last stair. Then, he looks at me. “You’re not going to die, right? They take, like, military personnel on these things.”
          “Not exactly.”
          “What do you mean not exactly,” Xander strides to the kitchen. His eyes go wide, signaling gears in his head that are starting to turn but aren’t a hundred percent there yet.
          “There’s no military coming with us,” I say, watching their reactions. Li isn’t looking at me but keeps her hand steady against my skin. She mutters something like told you. Xander’s still looking incredulous. None of them say anything further.
          “It was David’s idea, and after doing the reading, I agree with him. Military personnel send the wrong message.”
          “What message? That you value your life? Isn’t their crime rate worse than most places in the US? I mean, haven’t you watched the news?” I take a breath.
          “Li. Xander. There’s nothing to worry about going on there. I am not going to die, okay?”
          “I’m not sure I believe you,” Li says.
          She looks at me. Her left front tooth digs into her bottom lip a little.
          “I know. I know. Xander?”
          “I still think it’s stupid,” He says. “But if it sends the wrong message, it sends the wrong message. Besides, what do I know about politics anyway.”
          “Xander.”
          “I thought you were leaving for the night,” he sighs. “It’s really getting hard to follow the no politics rule when you keep bringing it up.”
          “I know,” I chuckle. “Okay, Li, anything else?”
          She frowns. “I’m really going to miss you.”

         “Miss you too.”
          “You better not die,” Xander adds. “I’m saying this for your good and mine. Don’t know how inconsolable Li would be, but it’d be bad.”
          “I’m right here, dude,” Li whines. “It’s not that bad.”
          “Yeah, it is that bad. Don’t you remember the cat of ‘14? Yeah, you do.”
          I leave the kitchen, taking Li’s fingers off of my wrist, and heading towards the door. “I’m getting my shoes on now before you suck me back into-”
          “I’m just saying, you don’t deal well with death.” Xander cuts in, focusing his attention back towards Li. I slip my feet back into the loafers. I grab my coat from the rack and push my arms through. My phone’s buzzing gently in the right pocket; it’s either David or my mother. I turn it off with a press of my right hand.
          “Layla,” Li pipes up. I turn and her lips pressed together. “Hug?”
          “Okay.”
          I walk back into the kitchen and within seconds, both of their arms are wrapped tight around me. Three way hugs are awkward by default, but we’ve managed to perfect it over the years. I lean into the crook of Li’s neck. I close my eyes, take a breath in through my nose. Xander pats my upper back right beneath my shoulders. Li’s arms linger around my waist.
          After a minute or two, I detangle myself from their arms.
          “Six months,” I tell them.
          “Six months,” Xander affirms.
          Li echoes our words: “Six months.”
          “That’s not that long right? Not for us.”
          “Yeah.”
          Li only nods.
          I turn away from them and walk towards the door. I walk out, my fingers brushing against the knob. The two of them are still entwined when the door shuts behind me. The leaves still rustle. A squirrel is on one of the hanging branches of Xander’s father’s favorite tree.
          My phone buzzes again, and I take it out from my pocket. It’s my mother. The air I breathe in is cool. I answered the phone.
          “Hi, Mom.”
          “Is dinner done yet? I really want to spend time with you before you go. It’s not every day your only daughter is going across the country – wait, Puerto Rico isn’t even a part of this country, no?”
          “Not yet, but if the mission goes well, then-”
          “And it has to take six months? That doesn’t sound very efficient. You said this David guy was good. The real deal. What kind of real deal man needs-”
          “Omni el-Habiba,” I murmured. “I’m heading home now, okay? Be back in twenty. We can talk then.”
          “You haven’t been away for six months since university, and even then, you were still in Iowa.”
          “Omni, please.”
          “Okay.”
          I ended the call.

          My bag sits at my mother’s feet when I walk in the door. I shut it behind me. I leave my shoes on the mat right at the door.
         There’s a soft thud on the floor. Mom frowns. Within seconds, a head is rubbing against the outside of my leg.
          “Hey, Moon,” I look down, not yet making eye contact with my mother.
          “Miss me, huh?”
          I card my right hand through Moon’s brown fur. She lets out a soft purr. I look into her dark eyes. I toss my jacket on the hook before getting on my knees to better pay Moon attention.
          “Imagine how needy she’ll be after you’ve been gone for six months.”                                             

         I sigh, looking up from the kitty who is basically falling into my lap. I look at Mom. Her graying bushy hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she’s wearing her beige University of Iowa sweatshirt and the matching sweats. “Hi, Mom.”
          “You’re all packed then?”
          I nod. The cat fidgets in my lap, trying to get my attention back. I pull my hand back to rub at the kitty’s ears.
          “There you go, there you go,” I mutter. To Mom, I add: “Didn’t know how late dinner would be.”
          “That’s smart.”
          I nod. “You know me,” I chuckle.                                                                                                          

         “You always were a smart girl. Couldn’t spell no matter how hard your father tried to teach you though,” she looked down for a second. “He’d want you to go. I should,” her voice breaks then. “I should want you to go.”
          “Dad’s not dead.”
          “I know, I know,” she corrects herself. “I assume your dad wants you to go.”
          I frown. “Haven’t gotten around to telling him yet.”
          “Are you going to?”
          “I don’t know.”
          The cat lays his head on my thigh. Mom gets off from the couch and takes a seat across from me and Moon. She puts a hand on my shoulder.                                  “You’ll make us proud. You always do.”
          I smile.
          “Thanks, Mom.”
          “I wanted to stay up until you got home, but you’re home now, and us old people get tired early. I probably won’t see you before you go.”
          “Okay. Get some sleep, Mom.”
          “Don’t get yourself killed.”
          “I won’t.”
          She gives a soft pat to my head while she rises to her feet.
          “I mean it.”
          I murmur an “I know”. She’s already halfway through the kitchen. The cat turns in my lap.
          “You really are going to miss me, huh?”

          Archie Wagner started writing when they were a kid and hasn't stopped. They wrote Ramen Dinner as a way to cope with summer boredom, developing characters and plotlines in their head before writing it down after work shifts. Ramen Dinner will likely be part of a larger work. Throughout the work's progression, the chapter has been edited to include current characterization and clearer scene descriptions. 

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