Holden
Chapter Five
Twenty Questions is my new favorite game, if it helps me learn everything I can about Lizette.
“Favorite color?”
“Purple. Any shade. You?”
She’s sitting opposite me, cross-legged between two rows full of books.
“I knew you’d be a purple.” She scrunches her face at me, and it’s adorable. “Mine is orange.”
“Orange? That’s different,” she says.
“Not really. It’s an underrated color. It adds to everything but never gets the credit.
Think about sunshine with hints of orange coming off the sun, making it feel warm and comforting.
Or when you’re hiking somewhere beautiful like Red Rocks, Colorado, and there are rich shades of orange in the rock, amplifying the beauty.
My favorite, of course, is in the sunset. ”
She narrows her eyes at me but says nothing for a few seconds. I can almost see the wheels in her brilliant mind turning.
“I can’t tell if you’re screwing with me, like it’s one of those things men say to sound charming, or if you’re really serious.”
I chuckle. I’ve learned that Lizette is a very literal person, and it’s one of the things I enjoy about her.
“I’m serious. I’m not one of those guys who’s gonna say stuff to impress you.
I don’t have game like that.” I wink at her, and her pretty cheeks turn a faint shade of pink.
“I am what I am, and I think people should always tell others the truth. That’s how I feel, anyway.
So, yeah, it’s all true. The peach and orange colors of a sunset are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. ”
I pause for a second as it strikes me that’s no longer completely true. I allow my eyes to roam over her face.
“Well, one of the most beautiful things…”
Her eyes widen, and she sucks in a shallow breath. The intensity of her gaze holds me hostage for several long seconds. Then, as if the moment never happened, she drops her gaze and clears her throat.
“I’ll never look at a sunset again without appreciating the shades of orange and thinking of you.”
I smile. The idea of her thinking about me when we aren’t together pleases me, even if she’s teasing.
“Favorite cereal?” The words rush out of her mouth, probably to distract me from what she just said.
“Hmm. That’s a tough one. I think maybe Happios because they’re heart healthy.”
Something pinches inside my chest at my own words.
“Mine’s Pirate Crunch with those crunchy gold balls.”
I grimace. “That’s so sugary that it can’t be good for you.”
She tilts her head back against the wall and closes her eyes. “I don’t care. I love them.”
A pretty smile spreads across her face.
I hear her words, but they’re distant, and my heart rate kicks up.
No. Not here. Not with her. Please don’t let this happen around her. I glance down at my right hand and, sure enough, I’m pinching the skin of my opposite hand. For a few seconds, I can only watch myself doing it, not sure how to make it stop.
“Hey, Holden, are you okay? Did I say something to upset you?”
Her words pull me back from the anxiety-fueled reaction I’m tumbling toward, but it’s when she places her small hand over mine, preventing me from continuing to pinch myself, that I can stop.
Embarrassed, I hesitate for a moment, then look over at her.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “That just got me thinking about my dad, that’s all. He loved sugary stuff, never listened to his doctor about it.”
She stills for a few seconds.
“Did you say he loved, past tense?” she asks with caution in her voice.
Her words are so soft I’d struggle to hear them if I weren’t so focused on her.
“Yeah, my dad died two years ago, about five months before my brother Hayden and I started college.”
Her hand, which was covering mine, now wraps around it. “I’m really sorry.”
I tilt my head toward her and fix my gaze on her. I decide I never want to look away. There’s a stillness, a calm I’ve never felt before, as compassion, kindness, and something more that I can’t quite place, stare back at me. I like how it feels.
I swallow past the lump in my throat.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. He’s kind of the reason that I’m careful, though not perfect, with what I eat. He died of a massive heart attack while he was running, and he was only forty-eight, so...”
Her eyes turn glassy, and I’m afraid she’s about to cry.
I notice her biting her lip—and not for the first time.
She glances down at our joined hands, and hers lifts off mine. But I take my free hand and place it on top of hers, encasing it between my much larger ones.
“Just for a few more minutes?” I ask.
She says nothing but relaxes her hand. Then nods.
“Is your mom... okay?”
“Yeah, I guess so. She’s alive, if that’s what you mean. I don’t know if I would say okay because she’s been a mess since Dad died, but she’s healthy, at least physically. And she’s getting better almost every time I see her.”
We sit silent for a few minutes, then I ask, “How about your parents?”
She seems to understand I need to change the subject off of mine.
“Well, let’s see. They’re not together anymore. My dad left when I was fourteen. He left my sister and me with a lot of promises about how often we would see each other, but within a few months, he remarried and then hardly ever tried to see us.”
I wonder if she can hear the hurt in her voice as loudly as I can.
“That must have been really hard.”
It’s not just a platitude. I truly don’t understand what that would be like since both my parents made us feel loved and secure.
“My sister was eighteen and didn’t care. I missed him, though. At first, anyway. I guess that phrase, ‘new wife, new life,’ really is true.”
Anger surges through me.
“That sucks. I’m sorry he did that to you.”
She fixes her eyes on her pant leg and picks at the fabric.
“It is what it is. It didn’t last very long, anyway.
He got divorced from her and remarried another woman from Texas.
He moved there for that wife, so it became very rare for my sister and me to see him.
A couple of times, we got really close, made plans, but he backed out at the last minute with one excuse or another. But, hey, my mom is still at home.”
Her smile is tight and forced.
“That’s good, right?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer immediately, and when she does, there’s a sadness in her voice.
“I guess so... at least most of the time.”