30. Walter
Walter
TEN YEARS AGO
TAMPA, Fla.—“Turns out you’re kind of wild,” Walter said as they walked back to the dorm after the wedding.
She wrapped a curl around her finger. “What was your first clue?”
“Maybe when you had the gift shop wrap that box of candy to make it look like a wedding present.”
“It got us in the door, didn’t it?”
“I’m sure you would have talked your way in without the props. Like when that old lady asked who you were and you said, ‘Do you know Cousin Jimmy?’ Just like that.” He snapped his fingers, still in awe of her nerve.
Hildy shrugged like it was no big deal. “That was slick, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe you should join the CIA.”
“Nope. It’s the news biz or nothing for me.”
“You’re pretty awesome at it.”
“No regrets about your choice of partner, partner?”
“Definitely not.”
She bit her lip, and Walter remembered he was alone with a cute girl. He’d done his best to keep that awareness tucked away at the back of his mind while they were working, but it was harder to ignore now that it was just the two of them, without the background noise of a packed cafeteria.
“That was a fun wedding.” Hildy bumped him with her elbow, and Walter was almost sure she’d done it on purpose, though it could have been because the sidewalk narrowed around a garbage can.
“I wouldn’t know.”
She stopped walking to stare at him. “That was your first?”
“Yeah.” He hoped she wouldn’t ask what other major life experiences he was lacking, because the list would get embarrassing very quickly.
“Weddings are like the Fourth of July in my family. You don’t even want to know how many step-aunts I’ve had.”
He wasn’t sure whether she expected him to be impressed or scandalized, so Walter waited in silence for his next cue.
“It’s funny they met when they were our age,” Hildy mused.
When the bride and groom found out Walter and Hildy were high school students working on a project together, there was a lot of oohing and awwing, hands to mouths and hearts in their eyes.
It turned out Carlee had played Cinderella in their school’s production of Into the Woods while Carlton understudied the role of her prince.
They’d lost touch after graduation, until Carlee started a rotation on the oncology ward where Carlton was undergoing cancer treatments.
And now they were married—though obviously Walter and Hildy would add more detail to the finished story.
“Can we go in there?” Hildy was pointing across the street at an old-fashioned diner. “And have coffee and pie like gritty old newshounds?”
“It’s kind of late—”
“You can have decaf, grandma.” She grabbed him by the hand, not letting go until they were inside. The contact was so distracting, Walter forgot to worry about his bank balance, though he wasn’t in a position to casually eat out, unless the restaurant featured a drive-thru and a dollar menu.
“Look, they have Dutch apple!” Hildy bounced with excitement. “We’re definitely getting that.”
He tried to surreptitiously check the price, but there wasn’t a sign.
“My treat,” she announced. Walter wondered if he’d given himself away, but Hildy was studying the laminated menu she’d plucked from the abandoned hostess stand.
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m not,” she interrupted. “My uncle gave me an emergency twenty for the trip, but I didn’t need it because you showed me the secret laundry detergent stash. So basically we’re even.” Hildy closed her menu. “You’re giving me the look.”
“What look?”
“Like my head is a fortune cookie and you’re trying to read what’s written inside.” She tapped her temple. “It’s your interview face. You’re going to be really good at this, you know. I can tell.”
“Yeah?” His smile was at least half relief that she hadn’t called him out for staring at her. It would be easier for both of them if he kept his crush under wraps.
The waitress led them to a booth with squeaky vinyl seats, dropping silverware and two menus on the table.
“Real food or straight to dessert?” Hildy’s lips pursed as she studied him.
“If you can’t decide, go with the grilled cheese.
Not too little, but not too much. He’ll have a grilled cheese,” she informed their waitress, after a split-second glance at Walter.
“And fries. Coffee for me, and a slice of that pie. With two forks. Please,” Hildy added, flashing her dimples.
Their server seemed to appreciate the decisiveness, collecting their menus with a nod of respect.
“I’ll eat it if you don’t want it,” Hildy assured Walter when they were alone.
“Grilled cheese sounds good.”
“I know. It’s a classic for a reason.”
As with most things about Hildy, he found her bossiness charming. It reminded him of his mother’s cat, poking you with a velvet paw until you remembered you were wasting valuable time that could be spent scratching under his chin.
“To us,” Hildy said, raising her glass of ice water in a toast. “We make a good team, don’t you think?”
He inclined his head in agreement, and also to hide his blush. “We still might not win. The judges are probably looking for coverage of serious issues. Future Pulitzer stuff. As opposed to a feel-good story.”
“Then we’ll just have to change their minds.” She unrolled her silverware, arranging it next to her plate. “So no one will be able to underestimate us ever again.”
“Plus we’d have twenty-five thousand dollars for college,” Walter reminded her. “And priority admission to J-school.”
“That too.” She folded her hands on the table. “So what are you thinking?”
“For college?”
“Our story.”
Right. They were here to work. Walter thought fast. “We could be inside Carlton’s body, like we’re describing what’s happening in his cells, and then it cuts to stark statistics about how many people get sick every year, the likelihood of recovery—all that.”
“Whoa.” Hildy blinked at him. “That’s kind of dark for an article about a wedding.”
“Okay, what about starting right before they get the diagnosis? Maybe he’s even waiting for the doctor to arrive.”
“But then it’s a disease story.” Hildy sat back as the waitress deposited their plates.
“What were you thinking?” Walter asked, reaching for the ketchup.
Hildy waited until he’d blobbed some onto the plate to steal one of his fries, dipping it before taking a bite.
“We don’t want it to be all sunshine and rainbows.
That’s a fair point.” She angled the remains of the french fry at him.
“But we also want to capture how it actually felt to be there, really bring it to life on the page. And I was not getting bummer vibes.”
“Me neither,” Walter admitted, though he wasn’t sure how much of that had to do with Hildy’s presence.
“I think a story can be uplifting and truthful.”
“You’re an optimist.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m not out here with bluebirds circling my head.”
“That would be awkward.”
“Right?” She grinned at him, and Walter felt like he’d landed on Park Place. “I’m just saying there’s more to life than misery.”
Sitting across from Hildy, he was inclined to agree. Regular life could be magical, under the right circumstances.
“I wonder if we could find their high school drama teacher. Or the guy Carlton understudied.” Her nose wrinkled as she grabbed another fry. “That’s getting off track, isn’t it? This isn’t a showbiz memoir.”
“I thought it was a good idea.” Walter dabbed at his mouth with the paper napkin, worried he was sporting a chin full of grease from the sandwich. “Although other people might be less interested in the high school element than we are.”
“That’s the fairy tale of it.” She nudged her pie plate to the middle of the table, turning one of the forks so the handle faced him. “Destiny and second chances and ‘oh, our paths kept crossing for a reason. We were meant to be!’ People love that stuff.”
“Even though it’s not very realistic?”
“Um, they just got married?”
“Yeah, but you don’t usually stay with a person you meet in high school.”
“I’m sensing baggage. Do you have a tortured relationship history we need to talk about? Because I’m all ears.”
“Uh, no.” He huffed a laugh. “Not a lot going on in that department. I wasn’t talking about myself.”
She held up a finger. “Before you start spilling, if you’re a stress eater we’re going to need another piece of pie.”
Walter fiddled with the strap of his watch. He could dodge the question. They’d just met and might never see each other again after this week. Somehow, that made it easier to tell her the truth. “My mom got pregnant with me her senior year.”
Her expression didn’t change. “And your father?”
“Who?”
“Right.” She hesitated like she had something to say but wasn’t sure how it would be received.
“You know what? We’ll talk about my stuff later.
My family stuff, not my love stuff.” She broke off a piece of pie crust with her fingers, keeping her eyes on the plate.
“I don’t have a boyfriend. In case you were wondering. ”
The fact that she was not only single but had chosen to volunteer that information was the best news Walter had heard all day. He felt floaty with hope, like a bobbing helium balloon. “Do you think it’s possible to meet the person you’re meant to be with when you’re our age?”
“Are you asking if I think Carlton and Carlee are going to make it?” Hildy frowned. “You want to put some foreshadowing in the story? Like ‘they seem so happy now, but the future remains uncertain,’” she intoned in a dramatic voice.
He shook his head. “It was more of a philosophical question.”
“Wow, okay. Going deep.” She took a careful sip of water, like she was stalling for time. “In theory, I guess. I feel like I know myself. I could conceivably turn into someone completely different when I’m thirty-five or forty but hopefully not? I think I’d miss me.”
Walter nodded. It was a more thoughtful response than his ridiculous question deserved.
“We could start with today,” Hildy offered. “See where it leads us.”
It took him several tries to find his voice. “We—what?”
“Open at the wedding, go big on the descriptions, and then flash back to high school. But we don’t gloss over all the hard parts, because we want it to have a little gravity, like you said. Our story,” she added, waving at him. “Earth to Walter.”
“The wedding. Got it.” He picked up his ballpoint, trying to look like he was focused on the task at hand. When he flipped back through the last few pages of his notes, a line jumped out at him. “I jotted something down. While we were there.”
“Let’s see.” She tried to drag the notebook to her side of the table, but he held on.
“It’s probably too cheesy.”
“How will I know if you don’t let me see it?”
Reluctantly, he lifted his hand. Hildy grabbed the notebook and flipped it around. “Is this shorthand?”
“My handwriting sucks.”
“Read it to me.” She shoved it back at him.
“Once upon a time, a kingdom traded science for magic and a white coat for a wedding gown fit for a queen.” He forced himself to look up. “Too much alliteration?”
She leaned across the table, tapping the back of his hand with her index finger. “That could be our first line.” Her smile was as slow and warm as syrup over a fresh stack of pancakes. “I’m going to start calling you Walt as in Disney.”
“Why?”
“Because he made the magic happen. That’s all I know about him, so hopefully he wasn’t a total deviant.” She shrugged an apology, just in case. “Might leave the metaphors to you.”
“I was actually named after Walter Cronkite. The news anchor.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just mansplain media history 101 to me.”
“Sorry. I’m not used to being around people who care about this stuff.” Nor had he realized how cool it would be to share your weird obsessions with someone.
“For your punishment, you can sit there and watch me eat another piece of pie.”
“Agony,” he agreed, quoting Carlton and Carlee’s favorite song from Into the Woods.