31
I can’t move. I think I heard him say what he said, but it’s simultaneously not possible.
“I’m sorry what?” I stare blankly at him.
“I didn’t know you were you,” he says. “Not until I saw the dress you were making, the Lincoln ball one, and then everything fell into place. Diane also has a Singer sewing machine—I had just never noticed it before. I would have told you sooner, but I honestly didn’t know how you would react, and I didn’t want to piss you off or string you along or pretend I didn’t know so I—”
“Just stayed away from the server this week,” I fill in, pulling myself free from his grip. That explains the absent Al mystery. I lean forward and rest my head in my hands. “But how? Why?” I look up again. “You were listed as an international member.” It comes out as an accusation.
He makes a pinched grimace. “Because I’m a ‘ghost.’ Ghosts can go anywhere.”
I sputter a baffled laugh despite everything. “Pfft, that’s… I don’t even… But you’re not twenty-five either. How do you explain that one?”
“My birthday is February fifth. And don’t forget you said you’re a clothing designer. That you travel for work.”
I snap my mouth shut. He’s right, I did. We both did what people do online—embellish, withhold, dream. This was not supposed to happen.
“Cora, it’s not the end of the world, right? It’s like a freak coincidence.”
But I was complaining about him to “Al.” As our conversations return to me in snippets, I realize he was complaining about me. What else have we said that we shouldn’t have?
My phone rings in my pocket before I can go down that path. “Sorry, hold on.”
My first thought is that it’s the nursing home. I don’t know why—I have no reason to think something would have happened to Harvey, but that’s why I pull it out in the first place. Turns out, it’s my mom.
“It’s okay. Take it.” Leo gets up and walks away a few steps.
“Thanks. I’ll be quick.” I turn away from him. “Mom?”
“Hi, hon.”
“What’s going on?”
“Not right now, Martin, I’m talking to Coralynn. Yes, put the paints in the bin over there. Did you get batteries?”
I sigh. “Mom?”
“Sorry, we’re packing up here in Montana. We’ll be driving through Yellowstone and Grand Teton the next few days with a stop to visit with friends we met in Florida a couple of years ago, so I thought I’d give you a call to say Happy Halloween and happy early birthday. I’m not sure where we’ll be on Wednesday, so this seemed easier.”
“My birthday is next Wednesday, but okay…” You’d think with only one kid she’d know when my birthday is. But maybe it’s hard to keep track of the days when you’re on the road.
She disappears again. “No, the other one. Martin—the one to the left. The other pillow is too soft.”
I glance toward Leo and make a spinning motion with my finger indicating the conversation is dragging on.
No worries , he mouths.
“Coralynn, are you still there?” Mom asks, as if I’m the one having two conversations at once.
“I’m here.”
“We’ll owe you a present when we see you next. I didn’t have time to ship anything.”
“Or you could transfer some money instead.” I say the words quickly, both hoping and not hoping she’ll hear them.
Mom scoffs. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“I suppose.”
Leo shoves his hands deep into his pockets. He must be freezing.
“Was there anything else, Mom? I’ve got to go.”
“No, no, that’s it. Dad says hi.”
“Hi to Dad. Drive safely.”
“Always do.”
We hang up, and I put the phone away. “Sorry. Parents.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“So…” I stand up.
“So.”
His hair is still messy, and the tip of his nose glints in the streetlight. For a long while, neither of us speak. The sparkling tension from earlier has solidified into a concrete block, awkward and rigid. It sits between us like an obstacle we have yet to figure out how to scale.
“Micki and the others are probably waiting for you,” Leo says, eventually. “I think maybe you should join them.”
My teeth let go of my lip. “And you?”
“I’m going to head home.”
I nod slowly. “Oh, your jacket.” I start shrugging it off.
Leo puts a hand up. “No, keep it. You need it more than I do. Maybe you give it back tomorrow?” A tinge of hope tilts up the last syllable.
I know what he’s really asking. Will we move past this? The truth is, I need to think.
“I’ll make sure you get it,” I say. It’s the best I can do in the moment.
“Where did Leo go?” Micki asks, when I’ve elbowed my way to their table in the tent.
“He had to get home.”
She scrutinizes me over her beer. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I suck in a deep breath. Shake it off. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll tell you later. Have you put a song in yet?”
“We’ve narrowed it down to ‘Waterloo’ by ABBA or ‘Torn’ by Natalie Imbruglia,” Donna says. “Got a preference?”
“Definitely ‘Torn,’” I say. I can think of no better word to encapsulate my feelings in this moment.