Page 36 of Maybe You

I recognize birdsong.

He opens his mouth, and I don’t have to be a psychic to know what he’s going to ask next—why I was in the hospital in the first place—but instead of taking that opportunity he’s about to hand me on a silver platter, I sabotage yet another good opening.

“Your turn,” I blurt.

He sends me a knowing look, but he doesn’t push. He takes a moment to think before he says, “When I make a PB&J, I mix the peanut butter with jelly first.”

I stare at him for a prolonged moment before I make a face and snort out a laugh.

“I’m sorry, you what?”

“I mix the peanut butter and jelly together.”

I stare some more.

“Oh my God, why?” I ask with genuine horror.

“Umm… because it helps get the peanut butter and jelly ratio just right?” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“But that’s the beauty of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Every bite is a surprise.”

“I prefer things evenly distributed.”

I lean back and shake my head. “That is just wrong.”

“Have you ever tried it?” he asks.

I do my best to really give a proper, strong scoff before I add a more subdued, “No.”

He looks really smug after that.

“That argument doesn’t really hold. There are just some things you know you won’t like. I’ve never robbed a bank, and I still know I wouldn’t like it,” I say.

“You think you wouldn’t like it. Unless you’ve tried it, you can’t know.”

“I can draw a conclusion based on what I know about myself, and it’ll be accurate.”

He keeps smiling at me.

“Most likely,” he agrees.

I’m really not sure what to say now. That was an unexpectedly easy win.

“But,” he says then, and I groan out loud. Cheered too soon, clearly. “But there will always be that little bit of uncertainty. So unless you try, you’ll never know for sure.”

It almost feels like I’m being coaxed into something.

“I guess I know what I’ll be doing with my Saturday. Hop on, Clyde. We’re hitting up Fort Knox tomorrow.”

“You should probably consider something smaller than the country’s gold reserves right off the bat.”

“Like, say, an abomination of a PB&J?”

“Have to start somewhere. I’ll make you one one of these days, and then you’ll eat your words.”

“Something to look forward to,” I say.

He grins at my tone and takes another sip of his beer.

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