Chapter 19 #2
Ellie’s first sip went down easily. “I love how you snack when you’re stressed, so I immediately know if there’s something wrong,” she said.
“I love how you care about other people so deeply that you even care about the feelings of the maps lady. I love how I catch you smiling at me when I’m not looking.
I love how stupidly earnest you are. And speaking of earnest, I love your optimism.
I love that you’re everything I’m not, and that we have almost nothing in common except for having the exact same sense of humor. ”
Drake touched her arm to pause her. “All along, I thought you were Sally Albright. But here you are, doing the Harry Burns speech.”
Ellie melted a little. “I love how you act like the side-of-atruck guy sometimes, but you’re really a Nora-Ephron-MariahCarey guy.”
“What’s a side-of-the-truck guy?”
“You know. The guy on the side of the truck in an advertisement. We do tough law . We want to buy your house . We crush cans with our fists .” Drake laughed. “I know I teased you the first time we sat here about only going to the same three places. But, now I know why.”
“Which is?”
“You don’t give up on people or things that you care about.” Ellie took another sip. “You never make me guess if you’re going to show up. You tell me how you feel. You surprise and delight me. And I’m not good at any of those things, but you make me want to be better.”
“You’re unusually feely tonight.”
“What can I say,” Ellie told him. They needed this, a good moment. The calm before the storm. “Maybe Finn’s makes me nostalgic.”
“I love you, Ellie.”
“I love you, Drake. But wait. There’s more to what I want to say …
Umm—” She motioned to Sam from across the bar.
He nodded back at her. “I Will Always Love You” started to blare.
It was too loud for the space and immediately shut down all conversations.
“Sorry everybody,” Sam shouted, adjusting the levels back to something more reasonable. “Carry on.”
“This is my favorite song,” Drake said, acknowledging Ellie’s gesture.
“I know.”
“This means a lot—”
“I know.”
They listened to the song play out. It was late enough for inhibitions to be lowered, and about halfway through it, the few remaining patrons started to sing.
Though they’d only had one drink themselves, it was impossible not to join in.
Drake started first, right around the chorus.
Ellie was his backup singer. In a move she hadn’t predicted, Sam hopped up on the bar and used a bottle of bitters as a microphone as he reached for a high note.
Their food came and the conversation kept buzzing. Eventually, Ellie noticed the time: It was 11:40 already. They needed the check. Fast.
Energized from Finn’s, Drake chatted nonstop in the car.
He asked how her meeting with Nolan went earlier.
Ellie kept it general since the good news she had to share was now tied to Melinda.
She wanted to stay wrapped in the laughter, the breezy conversation, and the warm glow of the bar for a little longer.
But as the car neared the cinema, Ellie’s dread made itself known.
The memory she had brought them there to watch had to be so close.
She’d convinced herself she could handle it.
Enough time had passed since that night, she’d repeated in her head.
Now, just the thought of the movie and its horrors was enough to make her jaw clench.
I think something awful is coming was on the tip of her tongue.
“Drake,” Ellie said. She grabbed his arm as he parked the car at the bottom of the alley. “Do we have to go in tonight?”
He laughed in disbelief. “What do you mean?” he asked. “All this time, you’ve been begging me to go here.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s just that … there’s something you don’t know about me yet. Something that’s been …” They weren’t even in the cinema yet, and she could already feel herself tearing up. “Something that has felt impossible to talk about.”
“Okay,” Drake nodded. He left the car on and turned up the heat a little, as if to say: continue, time is of no limit.
But the time did have a limit. It was 11:53.
How had she avoided the topic for this long?
They needed to get inside. If they didn’t, she would miss the exact reason she’d brought them there.
“We’ve got to go,” Ellie said.
“We could go to Mae’s instead,” Drake suggested. “Grab an ice cream and call it a night?”
It was 11:54.
“Let’s start walking,” Ellie insisted. Reason kicked in. “We can’t be late.”
“All right,” Drake said, resigned. He opened her door and softly pushed her forward through the alley’s entrance and up the cobblestones. “Whatever it is, Ellie, I’m here for you.”
With a brisk walk, they made it just in time. They sat, the lights lowered, and the hot dog Charleston dance began. Then, Ellie’s body froze as a title appeared on the pitch-black screen.
TICKET FIVE: RIDE
The party buzzed with college kids.
Nothing in the living room made sense together.
A Jimi Hendrix tie-dye tapestry was faced off with modern IKEA wall art.
Nirvana and Rihanna mingled on a confusing playlist, and a rowdy game of beer pong was juxtaposed by the placid nature documentary on television.
Ellie watched a school of yellow fish thread through a vibrant coral reef while her date traded conspiracy theories with his friends. Would he even notice if she left?
He didn’t notice.
Ellie climbed the beige stairs up to the home’s second level, each step soft under her feet.
At the top, the door to a sky-blue bedroom was open.
She poked her head in. The walls were plastered with photos of a blonde girl and her friends.
Something about her carefree smile was reminiscent of a missing person poster.
Behind her, on the bedside table, was what she’d been looking for: a coveted, freeing, landline. She picked it up and dialed.
“You have to come get me,” Ellie said, lowering herself to sit on the bed.
Her hand brushed against some weathered books as she flipped the bedside lamp on.
A copy of The Great Gatsby was particularly dog-eared.
“I’m on a bad date,” she admitted. “Yeah, he is cute, but he’s also one of those government-fakedthe-moon-landing types.
” Ellie twirled the phone cord around her wrist. “Because my phone is dead,” she explained.
“No, I didn’t bring a charger to a party.
Come and get me.” She paused, then switched tactics. “I’ll buy you fries.”
Twenty minutes later, Ben was perched inside his car at the end of the driveway.
Ellie flung the passenger door open. Gone was his last decade of anarchy.
In was an air of academia: neat-trimmed hair, a forest-green cable knit sweater, and based on his cupholders, an espresso habit.
But as his arms stretched toward the wheel, an artifact of Ben’s rebellion surfaced.
There it was—the tattoo he sat for on his twentieth birthday— The Shining twins, but really, the two of them.
A whistling teakettle backed by spacey synths greeted Ellie as she hopped inside the car. “What’s this music?” she asked.
“It’s plant music, sis,” Ben said. His face was gentle, almost serene.
“Plant music?”
“Yeah,” he told her. His bright olive eyes, which Ellie shared, glowed in the seat next to her.
“This is an album that helps plants reach their potential.” Ben turned his arms into the limbs of a Monstera .
He swatted her head as he peeled the car from the curb.
Ellie pictured a group of plants swaying inside the party instead of confused college students.
Plants with beer cans. Plants with hookah habits or inferiority complexes.
At the end of the song, the music clicked to a stop.
“Rewind,” Ben insisted, rolling his finger around in the air.
“Rewind it?”
“It’s a tape, sis.”
Ellie relaxed a little. Her brother hadn’t changed all that much; the tape was proof he still frequented vintage stores and estate sales.
Ben also probably flirted with the shop girl about some offbeat hobby of hers, like growing turmeric.
Static filled the space between them as the tape rewound, then snapped back to the beginning.
Ellie hit Play and the music dragged her deep into the hazy part of her brain.
The alcohol and car’s speed transformed the road outside into streaks.
Her eyes were closing. She couldn’t fall asleep this early, not yet.
Spending time with Ben was a rare luxury these days.
They would sit on the floor of his apartment and split the day-old noodles in his fridge, gossiping about their dates, their part-time jobs, their trivial encounters.
It always felt so good to come back together, like they were still kids and life didn’t have any big stakes yet.
Her eyes opened again as the car pulled up to the illuminated square menu outside their favorite fast-food place.
Ben ordered large fries through the speaker.
“With extra ketchup,” he said, leaning out the window.
“And extra napkins,” he added, glancing at Ellie in camaraderie. “We’re messy like that.”
Ellie searched the radio for something that would keep her awake. The announcer on the local station teased a contest coming up. Listeners could reveal a personal secret about themselves and win tickets to see Interpol.
“Speaking of secrets,” Ben said after they ordered, “why don’t you spill yours?” They slid up to the window. Ellie set crumpled cash in Ben’s hand. He arranged the fries between them in the cup holder and squeezed a few ketchup packets over the steaming golden rectangles.
“You want my secrets?” Ellie asked. She grabbed two fries. “Do you have Interpol tickets?”