Ben turns and leads me into the park. We start down the trail. Neither of us speaks. Colorful leaves are everywhere around us. Fall is making its entrance: the greens are disappearing as golds and reds show up. How long has it been since I was out in a park? People around us are walking, biking, and running. I'm not a fan of outdoors. I'd much rather curl up by myself with a good book or a movie. That's how I recharge. Yet, with the mild autumn sun on my face, the other visitors of the park disappear, the outside world slips away, and I relax.

We move deeper into the park, Ben's walking down the middle of the path, and I'm on his right. He moves behind me every time a bicycle bell signals an approach, and I'm careful not to step onto the misty grass beyond the sloping curve of the trail. How long have we been at it? I sneak a peek at my watch and, no surprise, we've been walking for over a quarter of an hour. Without a piece of paper with a recipe to break the ice someone needs to start the conversation.

"Will we spend the whole walk like this?" I venture.

"Like what?"

"In silence. Or is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

"What are we allowed to talk about?"

Allowed? That's a weird way to put it.

"Well, about movies, books, work, family, friends. You pick one, and then I'll pick a different one. Sounds good?" I pull up a polite, encouraging smile and cross my fingers, hoping to move past the stilted exchange.

"What movies do you like?" Ben goes for the very first topic I've suggested. I guess we must start somewhere.

"I love foreign movies, especially old ones. My mom is French, and my dad is of Italian descent. My grandad Luca D'Amico was the one to immigrate to the US. I was indoctrinated into French and Italian movies early on."

"Are you studying film?"

"No," I reply. "I'm studying social sciences at UChicago, and I hope to graduate in December with my Master's of Arts."

"And then?"

Good question. The last interview is next week and the one with Burgundy this Thursday went reasonably well. No banter with that panel but I didn't fumble, and they haven't sent me a rejection letter, like Dijon did. Telling Ben about my desire to move to France has no risk to anything, but it's hard to admit outloud, to say I'm doing this thing. This scary thing I might fail at or, if I succeed, it might lead to lots of other scary things I might fail at. Why does this feel like a confession?

"A Ph.D. in Social Thought"—I'm glad my fingers are already crossed—"I want to move to France and do it there."

"France? Why France?"

I'm revealing too much. Is there any danger in telling him? There isn't, right? I throw caution to the wind.

"I've spent a lot of time in France as a child. My mom lives there."

"Hold on. You are French? You don't have an accent," he says.

"Well, I'm French and American"—Ben watches my mouth when I reply as if its shape would somehow reveal a clue he missed and expose my Frenchness—"I was born there and, as I told you, my mom is French, but my dad is American."

I reserve the information that Mom didn't move to the US with us. That to finish school she sent away the one-year-old me for Dad and Nonna to take care of. Nope. Too much too soon. He doesn't need to know my baggage.

"Your parents live in two different countries? Where did you grow up?" His eyes are on me, studying my face and not paying much attention to the trail.

"US mostly. But I'm a French citizen, so I can live and study there. Plus, the tuition is nominal." The way my finances are faring, I can't afford five more years of school in the US. Money, or lack thereof, is a foe I had to get used to since Dad got sick.

"Interesting. Studying abroad has never occurred to me as an option. What's the practical application of a degree in Social Thought?" Ben asks in his even tone, seemingly unaffected by the tempo of our walk like I am.

"You aren't the first one to ask." I scrunch my face, uneasy about telling him the truth of how uncertain I am about what's next. "I'm not completely sure yet, but I'd like to be a researcher, or maybe a lecturer. A professor, like my Dad, maybe? Working as a TA has been a helpful experience, and I've always loved digging into why we humans think or behave a certain way. How much is shaped by the environment, vs. education or social position, or even politics..." I turn my head to gauge his reaction. He's not looking at me but is focused on the backs of the people ahead of us. Yeah, no one is interested in social thought unless you are studying or teaching it. I better wrap it up before I bore him to death.

"I mean, it's the dream," I say. "One thing I've learned in life is: it rarely goes according to plan. But I've applied to several Universities in France." He doesn't need to know I've already been rejected by one.

"And what if you don't get accepted, what then?".

He's not messing around. Even Angie hasn't asked me this. She pretends I'll succeed, and get in, and have a fancy happy life in France full of wine-drinking and trips to the beach.

"I've asked myself that and ... I don't know yet. I'll start looking for a full-time job, maybe? Live with Angie, or leave Chicago? I'd prefer to move somewhere else. But I don't have to decide now."

Ben looks at his watch. "We should probably head back. We've been walking for three-quarters of an hour." 

So much for baring my soul. He's clearly listening, his questions are relevant to what I say but he doesn't seem to care much about these choices I'm facing. Well, one big choice, the biggest one in my life-to-date. Maybe I'm expecting too much. He's just a guy who I've been friendly with, not an actual friend. And he's decidedly not Angie. I follow suit and check my watch. He's right. The tension in my legs is a telling sign as well. We turn back to make our way to the parking lot.

"Dad always told me on hikes to remember that no matter how energetic I felt and how much I begged him to keep going, there was always the way back I needed to think about." Thinking about my dad and our hikes makes me grin. The sweet memories are a nice change from my usual flashbacks of him sick or dying. "More times than I could remember, he ended up carrying me on his shoulders at least part of the way home, because I underestimated how tired I'd get."

"Your dad sounds like a good father, a good man."

"Very good. My dad is the man I've always compared every one of my boyfriends to." Did I just say that? What's wrong with me? Why do these confessions keep coming out? My control evaporated together with the sweat on this walk.

"How many boyfriends have you had?"

Wow, he got down to the personal quick. Let's embarrass Amélie seems to be the theme. I don't think I've ever had a frank conversation like this. Even Angie doesn't ask me things like that. Well, she tried in the past, but after I shut her down enough times, she quit.

"Well, that's a bit personal for our first walk," I I find myself answering him. "But I guess I can divulge the boyfriend count. I've had five boyfriends, and you've heard about my latest one, Xavier."

Answering the questions about the breakup with Xavier will be next. In for a penny in for a pound.

"Thank you for answering," says Ben.

That's it? There's no question about Xavier, or the breakup, which would be the most logical next thing to ask me. No. Ben's back to silence. I wait for him to continue. He's not saying anything else.

"Sure thing." I fill the silence when he doesn't speak. "I'm over the boyfriend drama anyway. I've had enough."

"What do you mean?" Ben's voice is sharp and nothing like the calm tone he's been using so far.

That got him interested. Huh. I didn't expect that.

"I'm swearing off dating for a while. It's for the best. I want to focus on school, and I don't have the time to invest into dating." I'm stretched thin with no room for myself, let alone a boyfriend.

"For how long?"

I find Ben's facial expressions hard to read. He could be a good spy or a poker player, but for a second I think I see tightness in his lips.

"A while?" Angie will be happy about this. She never approves of my boyfriends. I'm not sure what a while means, though. Until I figure out a way to separate the good guys from the bad ones? Forever? Until I move to France, if I move to France? Maybe I don't even need to date. Who says we all have to be paired up. Yep, that's what I'm sticking with. "I'm over the whole dating scene. I need to simplify my life. Romantic relationships are complicated, and I would much rather have friends."

"I can follow your logic," says Ben. "Are we friends?"

Is it worry I heard in his voice? It was good he didn't mince his words because his intonation isn't giving much away. Not that there's much for him to worry about here.

"Yeah, I sure hope so, but let's make it official." I turn, walk backward, and extend my hand to him. "Ben, would you be my friend?"

"Yes." He hesitates, takes it, and curls his fingers around mine. "If a friend is what you need—friends it is." That's when I stumble and grab onto him to steady myself.

"Oops, I'm not the best forward walker. Backward wasn't a good idea." His firm grip holding me up by my elbows is the reason I'm not sprawled on the trail. My rapid breaths are undoubtedly the results of the near fall. I look at his hand. Ben tracks my gaze and lets go of me.

"What do you do with your friends?" he asks.

"Oh, the usual. Angie and I binge takeout and movies, grab drinks at a bar, she drags me to concerts—she's a singer—stalk each other online. Although Angie's the social butterfly so it's mostly me doing the stalking.And you?" I settle into the walking cadence. "What d'you do with your friends?"

"None of the above." He shakes his head. "I don't have any social media accounts." He holds up his right hand and folds one finger down. "I don't watch movies for pleasure." Another finger folded. "I hate concerts or any events with lots of people I don't know." Third finger down. "I've been to bars, but only to placate some of my friends, and it's not a place I'd voluntarily go to." Fourth. "And I rarely get takeout." There's a fist in place of an open palm he started with.

"That's an impressive list of what you don't do. How about what you like doing?"

"Taekwondo, video games, running, and cooking."

I laugh.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Cooking is the only thing I like doing from your list. I guess we don't have that much in common."

"I like other forms of exercise, like swimming and walking."

"It's not that. I don't think exercise is as vital for me as it is for you."

We are back to the parking lot.

"Did you not like this walk?"

"Well, it was...." I'm a bit tired but the dopamine kicked in at some point in the walk and everything looks rosy and glowing to me. "It was quite good."

"I thought so too. So, we have cooking and walking in common. We could go on walks every Saturday if you'd like."

Would I like that? More exercise? More time with Ben? If I'm being honest, yes, I would. Why not? I need to get out of my home-school-work-sleep routine.

"Sounds great," I say. "A buddy system may be the only way to get out of the house." Yes, I'm adding another thing to my already full plate, but it might help. I do feel better, stronger almost.

"I'll make sure you get out of the house then. Thank you for the walk. I'll see you Tuesday."

In the car, I add an ongoing calendar reminder on my phone for nine a.m. on Saturday 'Walking with Ben'.