Chapter 16
ETHAN
On the first Sunday in July, I was helping Nora build a cardboard hotel for her toy animals. The entrance had to be tall enough for giraffes.
My phone lit up with my father’s answer to a message I’d sent that morning: “Everything’s fine.” Three months after my decision to stay, he still didn’t want to chat. Lucas was making his own arrangements overseas.
I put down the phone and took Nora’s scissors. When it rang again, Claire’s name appeared. I assumed she wanted to change that evening’s pickup.
“There’s something I want to ask you,” she said.
I put down the scissors. “Go ahead.”
“Are you free Thursday evening? A few days ago, I saw that comedy is coming back to theaters. The one you always said would be funnier if he wore the hat backward.”
I held the phone without answering at once. Nora pushed a piece of cardboard toward me, and I gestured for her to wait a moment.
“Yes,” I said too quickly, then added, “I’m free.”
She laughed softly at the other end. “I’d like to ask you to come with me. When I was looking at the showtimes, you were still the person I most wanted to go with.”
The lawn mower outside stopped. I heard her last few words clearly, along with the sound of my chair hitting a table leg as I shifted it back.
“I’d really like to go.”
“Then shall I get tickets for 6:40 p.m.? Nora has someone to have dinner with that night, as already arranged.”
“Yes. What time should we meet?”
She said we could meet right outside the theater. She could come over after work, and the timing would be right. I agreed. After the call ended, I was still staring at the darkened screen.
Nora tapped the table. “The giraffe’s still outside.”
“We’ll get it checked in right away.”
I picked up the cardboard and realized I hadn’t stopped smiling. She glanced at me twice, then simply reminded me not to ruin the door.
On Thursday, I changed out of a shirt that looked too much like work and put on a light blue one Claire had chosen. Before leaving, I folded the sleeves again to make them match.
I arrived twenty minutes early. The glass outside the theater reflected me checking my phone again. Beside me, a young couple was sharing a cookie. I moved two steps away so I wouldn’t look as though I was waiting for them to finish.
Claire came around the corner in a green dress, her work bag over her shoulder. Her steps quickened a little when she saw me.
“Have you been waiting long?”
“A while.”
“How long a while?”
Looking into her smiling eyes, I confessed. “Twenty minutes.”
“Actually, I was walking fast too. I almost missed the turn.” She smoothed her skirt and looked up at the poster. “Looks as though we both really want to see that hat.”
In the chilly lobby, Claire asked for water and a small popcorn.
“A medium?” I suggested.
“Last time we got a medium, you said I ate most of it.”
“What I meant was that we could get a large.”
“You could have said so sooner.”
She’d paid for the tickets. I bought water and a medium popcorn. At the entrance, I held her cardigan while she slipped it on. Her fingers brushed my palm, and we both lingered until someone reminded us it was our turn.
Our seats were near the middle. She sat down, set the popcorn between us, and first asked if I remembered the bicycle chase.
“He falls into a fountain at the end,” I said.
“It’s the flower seller’s cart.”
“I remember water.”
“You insisted on that last time too.”
The lights went out, and I still wanted to argue. She held a piece of popcorn in front of me to signal that the movie was starting. By the time I took it, she’d turned to the screen with a slightly smug look.
Claire always held her breath at the funny parts, as if hoping the man could save himself. Once he was beyond saving, she leaned back laughing. I watched her and nearly missed the next line.
“Watch the movie,” she whispered.
“I am.”
She brushed my arm with the back of her hand, her eyes still forward. I left my arm there, my palm a little warm, and even reaching for popcorn became something I did carefully.
As the bicycle hurtled across the intersection, I sat up straight. A wheel hit the flower cart, tipping over a bucket and drenching the leading man from head to toe. Claire turned and silently mouthed, The flower seller’s cart.
I leaned close to her ear. “But there was water.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed and ducked her head, her forehead touching my shoulder lightly.
I sat perfectly still until she lifted her face.
For the second half, I finally managed to settle in and watch the movie with her, elbow against elbow.
Sometimes one of us would start laughing and set the other off too.
When the lights came up during the credits, she reached into the bottom of the tub and found only a few crumbs.
“The medium’s gone too.”
“I’m not commenting this time.”
We followed the crowd outside. It wasn’t fully dark yet, but some of the heat had lifted from the street. She stopped at the curb to get her bearings. I pointed the other way and asked if she wanted to walk. There was a little sandwich place down there.
“Yes. I don’t want to go home yet.”
I almost reached for her hand immediately. Halfway there, I took her empty water bottle instead and dropped it in the recycling bin beside the road.
She noticed and said nothing, waiting for me to come back before walking on.
We ate sandwiches at a small table outside the shop. She took a napkin from me, still smiling about the movie.
“I never thought that part was so funny before,” she said.
“Which part?”
“They both want to stay, but they take turns pretending to look for something. They spend half the evening looking.”
I swallowed my last bite and looked at her.
“Lately, I’ve kept wanting to see you again.”
The napkin stopped in her hands.
“When I pick up Nora and see you, I want to stay a little longer. After we talk on the phone, I wonder whether you’ve got home, whether you’ve gone back to your book.” I looked down with a small smile. “This afternoon, I nearly left an hour early.”
“So you made an effort and were only twenty minutes early.”
“More or less.”
She folded the paper bag a little more slowly. “Me too. Sometimes I pass somewhere after work and think that if you were there, we could go in and sit for a while.”
“You can call me.”
“Mm.” She looked at me. “I know that now.”
After leaving the sandwich shop, we walked toward her apartment. As we passed a little restaurant with warm yellow lights, she said she’d been wanting to try dinner there. I stopped to read the menu beside the door. When I turned back, she was standing closer, her hand touching my fingertips.
I didn’t hurry to take it. She reached a little farther and slipped her hand into mine.
Her palm was warm. Her thumb moved gently along my knuckles. I held her hand, looking first at our hands and then at her face.
“Ethan, I want to try dating you again.”
A car was backing up at the curb. I heard its warning beeps, but all I could do was look at her.
“I’d like that,” I said. “Very much.”
She smiled, and I tightened my grip a little, unable to keep from adding, “I’m so happy. I may say that again in a bit.”
“Then I’ll listen again in a bit.”
I bent to kiss her fingers. A little embarrassed, she tugged me along. At the next intersection, she pointed to the farther street and said there were more trees that way. I turned with her. Only after a few steps did I realize she’d chosen a route that would take us an extra block.
“Is this the short way?” I asked.
“Are you in a hurry?”
“Not at all.”
She moved against my side. Beneath a low branch, I lifted my arm, and she ducked under it without letting go of my hand.
She said she was having dinner with Mia tomorrow night and going to a friend’s small art show over the weekend. I listened and asked a couple of questions, then began searching in my head for a chance to see her again. She noticed and asked, smiling, if I was already thinking about next time.
“I started when you called.”
The light outside her apartment building was on. She took out her keys without opening the door right away. Her other hand still held mine. When she looked up, her gaze rested on my lips. I moved a little closer.
She kissed me first.
At first it was only a light touch. I lifted my hand to the side of her face.
She didn’t move away; she caught my sleeve instead.
With the second kiss, I caught the faint scent of shampoo in her hair, my chest so tight it hurt.
The corner of her mouth moved against my lips as though she wanted to smile, and I smiled too.
“Now I want to go home even less,” I said.
“I can tell.”
I kissed her once more before letting go. “Dinner together next time? At the place where we looked at the menu, or somewhere else if you’d like.”
“Yes.”
She answered without hesitation. I opened the building door for her and watched her go in. When she reached the elevator, she turned back and waved at me with a smile. I was still standing there. I raised my hand too, waiting for the door to close before leaving.
My phone went off when I reached the car.
“That next time we mentioned—could we make it Saturday? I’m free after the art show.”
I leaned against the car door and read it, then finally laughed aloud.