Page 98 of Fly with Me

“Question number seventy-five. On the questionnaire. It’s the only one that was the same. We both said our favorite food is tacos. Can I go get us tacos?”

“Tacos.”

“Yes, tacos.” Most people wouldn’t notice how forced Stella’s smile was. They would just see the grin. But Olive was learning the nuances of Stella’s face. What she showed the world, and what she hid from it.

“Tacos would be great.”

Stella went to pick up food while Olive finished up answering some emails. There were a bunch from her mother’s lawyer. Heather still hadn’t texted Olive back about when she could come by to see Cody for his birthday. Was this another level of getting frozen out by the family?

“Tacos,” Stella said in a loud, singsongy voice as she came through the door. That top button was rebuttoned now.

They assembled the food on the coffee table. Olive had decided that it was her job to immerse Stella in all the aspects of their generation’s culture she had been avoiding, so she flipped on a must-watch trashy television show about women in dangerous stilettos selling billion-dollar real estate in Hollywood.

Stella had made the mistake of dropping a chip, which Gus gobbled up, and now he was drooling on the carpet watching every move Stella made. Stella petted him several times before Olive told him to cut it out because he was not supposed to eat people food anymore. Stella, for all her insistence that she never watched TV, kept turning up the volume loud enough she could follow what was happening as the plastic-surgefied faces on the screen yelled insults at one another over some very dramatic perceived slight. When the first episode’s credits rolled, Stella pressed the button to watch the next episode, but then turned to Olive with a serious expression.

“I’m sorry they asked about your brother. I think if we do any more interviews in the future, we should tell them ahead of time that you aren’t comfortable with questions about him.”

For a second, Olive had forgotten about that awkward moment during the interview, since the heat of that moment in her bedroom had entirely eclipsed it. “That’s a good idea.”

“But you can talk to me about things. Anything, if you need to.” Her eyes were painfully earnest.

Could she, though? Some days she felt like she could spill everything to Stella, but this wasn’t like her to feel so comfortable. She hadn’t moved in with Lindsay because something about their relationship didn’t feel right. It wasn’t because she was afraid of emotional intimacy, but still, Lindsay’s words from the bar echoed in her head. Was this reticence to share part of the problem or just the result of Lindsay’s reaction to her anxiety? Would she end up messing everything up with Stella because she was such a fuckup in general?

“Thanks. It’s still an ongoing thing with my family. Talking about it sucks. That’s why I don’t mention it much. Not because I don’t—uh—trust you.”

“Okay.” Stella stacked the empty taco containers and swept up nearly invisible crumbs with her fingers. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Working.” Olive had worked every holiday in the last year. Let the people with families who wanted to see them have their time. She’d take the time-and-a-half pay.

“I’ll be working too.” Stella crunched another chip.

“Oh? Not with your dad?”

“No. It’s easy to pick up hours around the holidays.”

Olive wanted to ask about why she didn’t want to be with her dad, but she didn’t want it to seem like she was judging.

“My dad and I will probably go out for a Thanksgiving meal the night before. Any chance… would you want to come with us? He really likes you.”

Olive was startled into silence for a moment. When she recovered herself, she spoke with genuine regret. “I’m working the day before and the day after, actually. We do it that way so people can travel.”

“Oh, right.”

“I do miss watching the parade, though.” Olive rested her head on her fist.

“Maybe next year you’ll be off.” Stella smiled, but then the expression faltered as if she hadn’t meant to say that at all.

Next year?

They finished their meal, and then Stella rushed off, wanting to check on her dad. Before leaving she made sure all of the take-out trash was thrown out and the cushion she’d been leaning against was back to its baseline level of fluffiness.

God, she’s adorable.

After an awkward hug at the door, Stella was gone.

Olive immediately opened the calendar app on her phone to calculate the next day she was likely to see Stella again. After she counted the days the second time, she looked down to see Gus staring up at her.

“I’m not pathetic.”

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