Chapter 29
A FEW DAYS OF STOLEN moments later, Nora and I make plans to go on a date on my day off.
Like a real date, not just an afternoon of sitting on a blanket in the middle of the woods or walking the back road that cuts through the property where nobody can see us.
She wants to take me somewhere that we’ve been before, someplace where we can get away from the prying eyes of Wyatt for an evening and just feel normal.
But maybe that has something to do with the girl sitting next to me.
My eyes fall onto her hand, resting on her thigh.
It feels like the opposite of when I was in the car with Ryan.
There’s no having to convince myself that I like her.
And there’s no question in my mind about what I want to do.
I want to reach across and take her hand, more than anything…
but my nerves get the better of me. So instead, I focus on the road and try to ignore the way my stomach jumps up into my throat every time I look at her.
We drive through Oakland, into Schenley Park and out the other side, passing rows of houses that only seem to get bigger until finally we come up on a barricade blocking off the road at the intersection. A white banner hanging over it reads SQUIRREL HILL NIGHT MARKET in big black letters.
After trying to parallel park for about two minutes straight with cars lining up behind me, I finally give in to Nora, who has been whispering, “Usually I park for you. Do you want me to do it?” since my third attempt.
I hop out and hurry over to the sidewalk as she climbs over the center console into the driver’s seat.
Of course, she executes a perfect parallel on her first try.
She gets out and drops my keys back into my hand, a cocky grin spread across her face.
“Just come on,” I reply, rolling my eyes and knocking my shoulder into hers.
We walk side by side into the river of people flowing up and down Murray Avenue, where lines of tents are set up on either side of the street, each one displaying something different for sale.
Handmade pottery, intricate pop-up greeting cards, jam, watercolor paintings, jewelry, and even mounted animal heads made of paper.
It’s like the Wyatt farmers’ market on crack.
“My mom would love this,” I say as we pass a fresh-cut-flowers stand.
“Does she know you’re here?” Nora asks over the sound of laughter coming from a group of girls tucked into the nook of a closed storefront. One of them sounds so much like Rory that a layer of sweat covers the back of my neck as I turn to look, but of course… it’s not her.
“I guess I could’ve just told her I was coming here with you…
as friends, but it felt too risky. So I told her I went to Rory’s house with Savannah,” I say.
In reality I haven’t spoken to either of them since Truck Night, despite their best efforts, but not a single message they’ve sent has contained any type of apology.
I can already feel my blood begin to boil at just the thought of it all.
“They actually did text me this morning, asking me to go shopping with them, but I didn’t even reply. ”
“Did you want to? I mean, if we didn’t have this planned.”
“No. I’m done with them. They freaking lied to me.
They took advantage of me and my accident, and it didn’t just hurt me, it hurt Ryan, too.
And you. They’re not my friends.” I shake my head, curling my hand into a fist. “And you know the worst part? I can’t even call them out for it without having to tell them how I know, without telling them about us. ”
Nora nods. “The Ryan thing is a whole other level, but I remember when the middle of junior year hit, and they started hanging out with a different group of people after Savannah got that new boyfriend. You felt like you guys were drifting apart. And then Jake said some racist shit to you that made me want to beat his ass, and they just laughed, so… you really didn’t want anything to do with them after that.
” She pauses to take a deep breath, calm down.
Honestly, though, seeing her all protective is kind of hot.
It’s kind of eerie the way almost the same thing has happened again.
Like the cracks are too deep for any second chance to fix.
“Anyway, you were just kinda hanging out with them enough to get through to the end of summer without raising suspicion. What do you think you’re going to do now, though?” she asks.
“Honestly, I don’t even want to think about it anymore.” I look over at her. “I just want to be here with you.”
Nora slides closer to me, her hand beginning to tangle around mine.
I take in a sharp breath of air and reflexively shake her off as if she’s a wasp that just landed on me. She snaps her head up, and her eyebrows knit together.
“Sorry,” I say immediately, tucking my hand safely into the front pocket of my jeans. “I just… what if someone sees?”
“That’s why we—” She stops when she sees the panic in my eyes. “Okay. Yeah, you’re right. I’m uh… I’m going to grab us some food. Stay here, okay?” she asks, already stepping down off the curb toward a group of food trucks parked at the intersection.
I scan the people around me again but simultaneously kick myself for reacting like that. We just drove all the way into the city for this exact reason, to be able to be together in public. So I can see what it’s like for real.
Nobody from Wyatt is here. Nobody knows who we are. Nobody is going to find out.
I remind myself to take a breath and chill, hoping I didn’t already ruin the night.
Luckily, when Nora returns, the look on her face tells me that everything is fine. She’s got a paper boat of tacos in one hand and some kind of dessert in the other, an excited smile on her face in between the two.
She holds the tacos out to me and I give them a suspicious sniff.
“What kind are they? What’s this stuff?” I ask, lifting up the tortilla to reveal a yellowish-green mystery sauce.
“You’ll like it. I promise.” She reaches out to lift the boat closer to my face, but I don’t budge. “Try it!” she insists.
“Okay, okay!” I laugh, before doing as she says, and Oh man.
She’s right. It’s some kind of spicy steak with fresh cilantro, pico, guac, shredded cheese, and a tangy lime sauce drizzled on top.
“Told you,” she says with a satisfied look on her face as she holds out the thing in her left hand. “Here, try this.”
I’m not totally sure what it is. Some kind of rolled cinnamon pastry filled with cream. This time, I don’t put up a fight, I just trust her and take a bite of the thing.
“Okay. Holy shit, that’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“That’s a Steel City Chimney. They were always your favorite. They roast them on this cool wood-fired rotisserie,” she replies, her eyes lighting up as she watches me take another bite.
“You know, I don’t think it’s very fair that you know all this stuff about me but I know basically nothing about you,” I tell her over the food in my mouth.
“What do you want to know? Ask me anything.”
I swallow the bite of dessert in my mouth and consider the question while I reach in to try the other taco.
“What kind is this one? Those pickled onions look good.” I go to pick it up, but Nora smacks my hand away before I can even touch it.
“That one’s mine! Jeez, lady,” she says as she scoops it out of the boat and takes a bite. “You can ask me anything and that’s what you want to know?”
“Fine. How many times have we been here?” I ask, taking another bite of my own taco.
“This is our third time here. They have three or four every summer,” Nora replies.
“What’s your favorite food?”
“Aw man. Cheeseburgers,” she says, her eyes widening with wonder.
“You’ve got a little drool.” I point to my mouth, and we both laugh. “What’s your favorite food that you can still eat?”
“Honestly, this freaking veggie taco is bomb.” She shoves the rest into her mouth. “I gotta ’ake ’ese at home.”
“Looks much more appetizing than your soggy Tofurky.”
“Don’t knock it. It’s actually pretty good,” she says, and I give her a look like I don’t believe her. “Okay, it’s no honey ham.” She laughs.
“What’s your favorite movie or show?” I ask.
“Oh my God. Stevie!” She stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk. “Dickinson! You don’t remember that, do you?” she asks, her eyes wild with excitement.
“What? Like Charles Dickinson? The Oliver Twist guy?” I ask as we start walking again.
“Charles Dickinson!? First of all, I think you mean Charles Dickens. And… Stevie, please. I’m talking about our queen, Emily Dickinson.
They made a TV show about her and it’s only the greatest show in television history.
See? Something good has come out of all this.
” She pauses to stare at some far-off point in the sky.
“What I wouldn’t give to relive the Emisue love story all over again for the first time.
” She grazes my arm with her hand, just barely, but it’s enough to give me butterflies. “Okay. Okay. More questions.”
“Well, wait. Tell me more about it,” I demand, intrigued.
“No. Just move on before I spoil anything, you always get mad at me for doing that. Trust me,” she replies, waving her hand at me.
I think for a second. What I really want to ask is when she knew she liked girls. I haven’t stopped wondering about that since we looked through the box, but it feels a little too personal to be asking in such a public space, so I opt for a different question I’ve been holding on to.
“You told me in your bedroom that you aren’t going to college. What were you going to do in California if I was going to UCLA?” I ask, finishing off my taco.
“Oh, umm.” I can tell she’s surprised at the sudden shift in topic.
“There’s a farm just outside of LA County that was going to give me a job.
It’s not like… my ideal farm, but they’re always hiring there.
And I figured I can get my feet wet, make some connections with other farms and figure out what I want to do from there.
Someday I’d love to have my own, grow vegetables sustainably and join a CSA.
” She takes an excited breath and presses her hands over her chest like she’s trying to hold everything in.
But it bursts out through her smile anyway.
“I like watching you talk about all that stuff. I can tell how much you love it.” It all reminds me of my own future.
“I signed into that secret email account of mine that you told me about and read all the stuff from UCLA. I applied undecided. I never really knew what I wanted to be at fifteen, but I thought maybe I’d have my shit together a bit by now, you know? ”
“You told me you felt like you needed to get out of Wyatt first, see what’s out there before you decide anything else.”
“I just… wish I had something that I was as passionate about as you are with farming.”
“You’ll find it, Stevie.”
“At Bower?” I ask skeptically.
She shrugs. “I think you can find it wherever you are,” she replies optimistically.
But Nora almost had it. And I can’t help but wonder what it’s been like for her to have had to cancel all of these plans we made together.
“Nora, what would you have done? If I never found that box? If I never found out about us?”
She’s quiet for a long moment, thinking.
“I wasn’t going anywhere. I know that much.
I really was going to tell you the truth…
I just… needed some more time to figure out how.
All I know is that you and me? We’ll always find our way back to each other,” she says.
The back of her hand brushes against mine, sending an electric pulse up my arm.
I smile and munch on the rest of my cream pastry as we come up on an old movie theater.
An older woman is playing the violin under the oversized marquee with all the current movie showings.
Her long hair swings back and forth as she sways with the music, her eyes closed.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a five-dollar bill to drop into her case.
As the two of us stand there watching her, I feel that magnetic pull tugging me closer to Nora. I take a step sideways until our shoulders are touching, and again, there’s a buzzing on the surface of my skin. I wonder if Nora can feel it too.
It’s all so different from the dates I went on with Ryan. Everything feels like more with her. Like my lungs have felt almost too small all night and I can never quite seem to catch my breath.
With my eyes locked on the violinist, I slip my hand around the inside of Nora’s forearm and slide my fingertips down her wrist, over the calluses on her palm, until our fingers intertwine.
We stand there, Nora and I, and this woman who seems to only be playing for us, even as people flow by on either side.
None of them stop to look.
None of them say anything to us.
None of them make me feel like holding her hand is anything but normal.