Chapter 12
12
Natalia
senior year
I’m repeating the mnemonic that Carmen taught me in my head, chanting along the words in a light whisper to study for my trig test next period when I’m interrupted by the sudden drop of a small sandwich bag in front of me. When I look up to peer at my side, Hayden looks at me with a proud smile.
“Cookies?” I ask, holding up the bag containing about four or five cookies that smell amazing even through the plastic seal.
“I baked them,” he answers.
“You?” I ask, genuinely surprised. “You baked these?”
He shrugs. “I made some of my mom’s oatmeal cookies not too long ago, and the baking bug bit me.”
“What kind are these?” I ask, ripping open the bag and inhaling the warm scent of cinnamon and vanilla.
“Snickerdoodle.”
My mouth spreads into a gleeful grin as I take a large bite out of a cookie, leaving behind teeth marks that rival the Cookie Monster’s. The flavors dance on my tongue. Everything that reminds me of fall and warmth and sugar is mixed together to make me take another large bite.
“These are amazing, Hayden.”
I reach out to offer him one, but he refuses.
“Those are yours,” he says. “I have plenty at home.”
“Oh good,” I say through a full mouth. “’Cause I didn’t really feel like sharing.”
He laughs as he watches me eat greedily.
“Seriously, Hayden. I can’t believe you made these.”
“Well, believe it, lab partner.” He turns to reach into his backpack for his binder. “I added ground ginger to the recipe. I read somewhere that it makes the flavors pop.”
I silently nod while I listen. I practically inhale the rest of the cookie while the crumbs fall onto my open notebook.
“I’m thinking of making a vanilla cake next. At least, once I can hunt down this rare vanilla bean that’s only sold in specialty stores.”
My eyes widen as I push down a rough swallow. “Oh my god, Hayden. If you do, please let me try some. I promise I will be the best taste tester in the world.”
He chuckles. “I’ll make sure to save you a piece,” he says, just as Mr. Khan closes the door to our classroom to signal the start of class. I brush the crumbs off my hands and carefully tuck the rest of the cookies into my backpack.
Hayden’s gaze lingers on my hand as I pat the puffed pouch of the front pocket, securing them safely so I can enjoy them later. A light smirk presses the shallow dip in his dimple before he turns to face the front of the classroom.
“I’m glad you like them, Marquez,” he whispers over the droning of Mr. Khan’s voice calling over our classroom for roll call.
present
Fall has always been my favorite season. The leaves start to become a palette of colors as the air becomes crisp, and the scent of everything pumpkin and cinnamon wafts into the air. Or at least the storefronts of every Starbucks nestled within the streets of New York City. This is my eighth fall in Manhattan, and it’s by far the best place to experience it. But aside from the change in temperature, it’s the air of expectancy that I love the most. Each passing week means I’m that much closer to the usual holiday festivities that bring me and my sisters back home, like presents on Christmas morning and champagne flutes of sparkling cider on New Year’s Eve.
My sisters and I grew up partaking in various seasonal activities. Painting eggs on Easter, lighting fireworks on Fourth of July, shopping for a real tree the second week of December. And now that we’re adults, we’ve established our own set of traditions.
When Matteo first introduced me to apple picking, it was by accident. His colleague brought it up at work and when he mentioned it to me, I thought it would be fun, inviting Carmen along with us. After that, we went every year, adding to the list of holiday-themed traditions we’ve collected since we were children .
Today’s the day of our apple picking feat, and I just received a text from Hayden fifteen minutes ago letting me know that he’s on his way. I’m finishing getting ready, dressing myself in a warm, cream-colored sherpa sweater, fitted jeans, and my ever-so-trusty Doc Martens when I text him back with a simple okay . I took the time to braid my hair into two long pigtails, Dutch braiding them to lightly trail down my shoulders. After tying up the tough laces of my boots, I walk into the living room just as David buzzes Hayden up.
I open our front door, timing the minutes it takes to get there from the bottom floor to the elevator and through the narrow hallway, just as Hayden rounds the corner to my right.
“Hey, lab partner,” he calls, coming to a stop at the doorway. His gaze drops, his eyes fixed on my feet for a few seconds before traveling back up.
“You want to come in for a minute?” I offer.
“Yeah.” His voice sounds quiet, his answer coming out as a deep sigh in place of his usual composed response. He closes the door behind him, and his hand cups the back of his neck at the same time he shakes his head.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
He looks at me, a small smile dancing at the corners of his eyes before it travels to the twist of his lips. “Yeah, everything’s perfect.”
We linger for a moment near the doorway before Carmen enters the living room.
“Ready?” Carmen calls, draping her jacket over her arm.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” David announces from his spot next on the couch.
Carmen and David lead the way out the door as Hayden stays by my side, waiting for me to lock the door behind me.
“I hope you’re ready for all the pumpkin spice and everything nice,” I say with a wide grin.
He grimaces. “Ugh, did you just rhyme?”
“I sure did.”
Carmen and David stand in front of the elevator with their backs to us, discussing snack options for our guaranteed post-apple-picking hunger pang as we wait for the elevator. I feel Hayden’s warmth skate over me as he stands close with his arm brushing mine through the thick layers of our clothes.
“I thought we were picking apples, not pumpkins.”
“Okay, then. Apple spice and everything nice.”
He cringes slightly in disapproval. “You’re going to have to give me a heads-up if you keep rhyming like Dr. Seuss.”
“There’s no warning,” I joke. “Sometimes I don’t even know it’s happening until I say words like ‘jive’ and ‘hive.’”
Hayden reaches his hand to cover my mouth before I slap it away. The elevator dings as I pinch the fleshy part of his upper arm. Hayden winces at the same time Carmen looks at us over her shoulder, and I nuzzle my face into Hayden’s arm. We lean toward each other, hiding our fit of giggles as Carmen eyes us with a wary look.
The drive is long, making the four of us restless. We sit while making the occasional conversation. We finally decide that we’re going to have hot dogs and apple cider for lunch while listening to the music playlist that Carmen took over.
David finally pulls into the gravel parking lot of the apple orchard, and I lean my head toward the front of the car, hooking my hands on the headrest behind Carmen.
“We’re here!” I beam in a quiet, singsongy voice, smiling at Hayden sitting next to me.
The four of us exit in unison, the slamming of the car doors creating a symphonic beat of low thuds. When Hayden rounds the trunk of the car, coming to my side, he smiles.
“Thanks for bringing me.”
“Thanks for coming,” I counter. I loop my hand around his arm, directing us to the small kiosk hut that holds stacks of baskets and wagons for people to use.
Carmen and David lead the way, her steps skipping as David smiles endearingly at her. I watch as he smoothes her hair and links his fingers through hers, kissing her temple before handing her her own basket.
I realize then that I’m more than grateful Hayden is here with me. I’m vastly relieved.
I love Carmen and David. But coming here only brings on an onslaught of memories that I have to relive as I remember what it felt like when I was happy with Matteo. And I hate that I have to relive them, even if it makes my sister happy that we’re here. Because the pain that follows doesn’t seem worth it. Remembering what it felt like to have Matteo hold my wooden basket as I filled it with apples or eat funnel cake with him only sharpens the dull pain, making the muddled memories come back with a fresh wave of heartbreak.
“Hey,” Hayden calls.
I don’t even notice when I stop walking, but he’s multiple steps ahead of me. His voice is soft and gentle as he calls for my attention. When I look at him, his smile is as soft as his voice. He tilts his head toward the entrance to the orchard as his hand reaches to clasp mine, then enveloping it and reminding me that he isn’t going anywhere, at least for the hours we’re spending away from the city.
“Let’s go,” he whispers, tugging at my hand.
I nod, following his steps and reaching my other hand to wrap around his arm. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so utterly and completely lonely.
“Most people like the Honeycrisp,” I say, holding a ripe MacIntosh in my hand. “But I prefer these babies.” I wave it in front of Hayden before taking a deep bite, savoring the tarty juices.
He smirks, setting down the half-full basket and closing the distance between us with two long strides. “I think you can give up your profession in tech to become an apple connoisseur.”
“And live out here in the countryside?!” I exclaim in agreement with wide eyes. “I could even get a baby goat and a couple of chickens!”
He laughs. “Yeah, but you’d miss the city. I mean, where else can you get cheap, greasy Chinese food at two a.m.?”
I shrug. “True.”
He takes my hand, the same one holding the apple with my teeth marks indented into it, and turns it to the other side before taking a large bite. The juices spritz off and land on my wrist.
“But you’re right,” he agrees through crunchy bites of apple. “This is pretty good.”
His hand is still on mine, covering it as the juices from the apple start to coat my palm. I can see when he swallows, his throat rolling up and down as he looks at me with his light hazel eyes focused and narrowed.
“You still wear those boots,” he says, his voice low and raspy.
“What?” I say, breathing out the question.
“The same ones you used to wear in high school.” He takes a step back, letting go of my hand. We both look down, staring at my worn boots, now stained with a small smearing of dirt from the orchard path. When we both look back up at each other, Hayden smiles. “Like you’re ready to go to war.”
I swat his arm, the bitten apple falling between us. “I love these boots!”
He reaches to pinch my side, making me squeal before he runs from me. When I catch up to him, he dips his shoulder, angling it toward my stomach before scooping me up and draping me over him .
“Hayden!” I pound on his back, hitting him lightly to get his attention, but he ignores me and walks toward our basket instead. When he finally sets me down, my feet landing with a bounce on the soft ground, I giggle uncontrollably.
“I swear, you’re a literal child,” I scold through my laughter. He laughs at me, watching as I smooth my hair down and adjust my sweater after it rode up to my waist.
“I like your boots,” he says through his laugh. And then he stops, his smile shifting into something softer, more contemplative and saccharine. “It’s very much you.” He tugs on one of my braids, making me slap his hand away.
“I hope that’s a good thing.”
“You’re always a good thing, Nat.”