Chapter 5
“Holy crap,” I say as we arrive at our next stop.
“The High Line is what it’s called,” Jay says, hands on his hips as he takes it all in. “A friend of mine told me about it.”
We walked five blocks from Rockefeller Center, grabbing something to eat from a street vendor along the way, which was much needed, as my stomach was actually growling.
“It’s amazing,” I say, turning around in my spot for a three sixty view.
We’re standing in a park built on an old freight rail line, and we’re above— above —the busy streets of Manhattan. I focus on the beauty around us and try not to think about the fact that if there were an earthquake, we would be first to go down.
I hate my brain.
We’re at the beginning of a walkway that I can’t even see the end of, with tall, wild grass and various flower beds dotting the sides.
Views of the Hudson River to our right and artwork of all kinds popping up here and there.
It’s seriously amazing. I mean, who thinks to build a park on an old rail line? New Yorkers, that’s who.
“Come on,” Jay says, as he sees a series of steps where you can sit and look through a window onto the busy street below. “Let’s sit.”
I don’t know if Jay’s therapy—or whatever it is he’s doing—is working, but the height right now isn’t bothering me so much.
Well, except for my initial worry that we might collapse in an earthquake, which I don’t know has ever even happened in the history of this city.
Also, we really aren’t that high up, so maybe that’s helping as well.
Jay doesn’t sit as close to me this time, almost as if on purpose. Like we crossed a line on the rooftop and he doesn’t want to go there again. Of course, I’m a dumb girl, and I read into everything. I internally roll my eyes at myself for even going there and also for being a dumb girl.
“Tell me something no one knows about you,” Jay says after we’ve sat in silence for a bit, looking at the cars and taxis driving on the road beneath us.
“Something no one knows?” I take my eyes off the street and move them to him, repeating his question because it catches me so off guard.
“Yeah. What secrets does Eliza Parker have?” he asks, turning his head toward me, a smile on his face.
“Wouldn’t it be easier if I told you something you don’t know? I mean, there’s quite a bit to tell since we just met this morning,” I say.
“Yeah, but I want to know something no one else knows.”
“Why?” I ask.
“So I can put it away and save it as a reminder of this day. When I remember my day here, I can think of this girl I met and the secret she told me that no one else is privy to.”
“Okay,” I say, more in the form of a question, and full of skepticism.
“Come on,” he says. “What’ve you got?”
“I don’t know,” I say, racking my brain for something no one knows, something I’ve never told anyone. I don’t have to go far, though. There’s something I’ve never told anyone, but I’m not sure I want to go there right now.
He scoots to cover the inches that were separating us and nudges me with his shoulder.
I take a deep breath and will my hormones to simmer down at his proximity.
“Okay,” I say, angling my body toward him just slightly. “My sister, Elena—”
“Yeah,” he says, interjecting.
“She, um ... she died a year ago.”
“Oh,” he says, his head pulling back quickly, shock on his face.
I look away from him because I hate seeing sadness in people’s eyes, and I know it’s coming because that seems to be the only emotion humans can muster when they find out about Elena.
Of course, I’m not sure what else they could feel.
But I wish it wasn’t sadness. I don’t want people to feel sad for me.
I chew on the insides of my cheeks. “Elena was born with a heart defect, and she lived a lot longer than she was supposed to, but”—I lick my lips—“it wasn’t a great life.
Lots of hospital stays and doctors’ visits.
We couldn’t travel or do normal family things because there was always worry about Elena and her heart. ”
Jay reaches over and takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine.
The comforting gesture makes my eyes well up, and I so do not want to cry right now.
I don’t like to cry. I don’t like to be serious.
Just telling him this is making me feel loads of uncomfortable, and I find myself wanting to make a quip or a joke to change the feeling in the air.
“Go on,” he says quietly.
“Anyway, so Elena couldn’t do much—she had to be careful because of her heart.
Her life, as you can imagine, wasn’t very daring.
” I reach for the purse hanging by my side and pull it into my lap, unlatching the magnetic button and opening the flap.
I slip my hand inside and find the piece of paper I’m looking for and pull it out.
“So she made me this list, before she passed, of things she always wanted to do but couldn’t.
And she asked me to do them for her. I’ve never told anyone about it. ”
Jay reaches for the piece of paper but stops short. “Can I see it?”
I hand it to him, and he unlinks his hand from mine and opens the paper.
“That’s quite the list,” he says after he’s read it. He points to the paper. “Did she really think you would go bungee jumping?”
I laugh because I hate the thickness in the air that has landed on our conversation, and also because for as little time as Jay has known me, he actually has me pretty figured out.
“Sometimes I wonder if she made the list to spite me,” I say, and then bite the inside of my cheek. “She was pretty hilarious, actually.”
“I bet she was,” he says, folding the paper up and handing it back to me. I tuck it in my purse. “So that’s why you were attempting the Empire State Building,” he says, nodding his head, his face registering the truth.
“Yep,” I say. “And also why I felt like I failed when I couldn’t do it.” I look down at my hands twiddling nervously in my lap.
“Wow, I’m sorry,” he says, wholeheartedly. “I feel bad.”
“Yeah, most people do when I talk about Elena,” I say, my shoulders lifting in a brief shrug.
“No—I mean yes—I’m sorry about your sister, but I feel bad that your secret was so ... uh, deep,” he says.
“I thought that was the point,” I say, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Well, maybe, but my secret that I was going to tell you was that I tell everyone I’m allergic to coconut, but the truth is, I just hate it.”
“What?” I slap him on the arm—harder than I mean to. “That’s it? That’s your secret no one else knows? Who even cares whether you like coconut!”
“My bad,” he says, hands up, palms facing toward me, his mouth trying desperately not to break into a smile.
I must be giving him my most incredulous look.
Because that’s how I feel: incredulous and pissed and totally duped.
But at the same time, I can feel a giggle bubbling up inside of me. Jay does weird things to me.
“You know,” I say, slapping him on the arm again for good measure. “I think I’ve just become a serial killer on Saturdays.”
I must have said this loudly, because suddenly there are quite of few pairs of eyes on us.
“She’s kidding,” Jay says to our crowd of onlookers, but then turns to me and under his breath says, “You are kidding, right?”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I say, trying to keep the smile that’s dying to break across my face from coming out. No such luck.
Jay laughs when he sees me smile and then grabs my hand and pulls me to standing.
“Come on,” he says. “We’ve got more to see.”
After that, the feeling in the air is much lighter. And fun. I like it. It’s been so long since I did something fun for myself. We walk along the path, taking in everything around us and talking. He asks a lot of questions about Elena, and it feels good to talk about her, almost cathartic.
“So what else besides work do you have planned for London?” I ask as we walk. The tall grassedging the sides of the trail moves softly with the late-afternoon breeze.
“I have to mostly work, but I plan to take a day or two to do other things,” he says.
“Touristy things?”
“Well, yes, but I’m also there to help with a foundation I’m involved in,” he says.
“A foundation?More information, please.”
He chuckles at my demanding tone. “I work with a foundation that supplies hearing aids for children that are born with hearing loss. Their headquarters are in London.”
I turn my head to see his face. His eyes are forward and he looks pensive. Or maybe shy. Like this is information he doesn’t go telling everyone about.
“Why that particular foundation?” I ask.
“My little brother was born with hearing loss, so it’s something I’m passionate about.”
“So,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ears. “You like to help people.”
“Well,” he chuckles, “yeah. I do.”
“So I’m a charity case, then?” my mouth asks without consulting my brain.
“What?” He turns his face toward mine, and his eyes are huge with surprise. “No.” He shakes his head slowly. “Actually, I wanted to spend the day with you for purely selfish reasons. The height thing was just an excuse.”
“Oh,” I say, because I can’t seem to find words right now. Plus my hormones are doing some sort of hip-hop dance in my stomach, and I’m finding it hard to speak.
“So, are you ready for our next stop?” Jay asks, as we arrive at the end of the High Line.
“There’s more?” I ask, still reeling from his comment and also feeling like he’s gone way above and beyond today. The thought of spending more time with him does make me happy, though. I’m not ready to be done.
“Yep,” he says, taking my hand. “One more stop.”