Page 26 of Shifting Gears

“We didn’t have sex!”

What follows is a moment of silence so profound that Eleanor is surprised crickets haven’t manifested inside her house just to drive it home.

“You’ve lost me,” Kayla finally says.

“We went stargazing. We fell asleep in the bed of her truck,” Eleanor wheezes. With the addition of a fever, her patience is wearing thinner than ever.

“Let me get this straight,” Ash says slowly. Eleanor struggles not to cough again. “You slept together without sleeping together? Outside? And you ended up sick? I think you’re doing this wrong.”

“You must really be hung up on this girl,” Kayla says, sounding a little too suspicious for Eleanor’s liking.

“Please talk quieter.” Eleanor’s headache is building ever higher with each word spoken.

“She must be insanely hot. Send me a picture,” Kayla insists. In her mind’s eye, Eleanor can see Kayla pulling out her phone in anticipation.

“I don’t have a picture.”

“Okay, link her Instagram or something.”

“She doesn’t have one.”

Ash makes an indignant noise.

“What?”

“If people have social media here, it’s all photos of their trucks.”

Ash’s horror only seems to grow. “What kind of hellish town did you move to?”

“I actually like it. They lie to your face instead of through curated photographs. It’s refreshing.” Eleanor sits up to take a sip of her lukewarm tea. She swings her legs over the side of the bed and tucks the phone against her ear, dragging herself downstairs to make another cup.

Kayla snorts. “Are you okay, Eleanor? Did you join the hoser cult up there?”

“I didn’t join anything,” Eleanor insists as she fills the kettle. “It’s just a nice vacation. This was your idea.”

“As long as you don’t get all redneck indoctrinated and abandon us,” Ash says.

“Never. I’ll be back soon.”

“With your survey in hand, right?” Kayla says. “How’s that going, by the way?”

“It’s fine,” Eleanor says, studiously ignoring the pang of guilt that accompanies the white lie. She’s barely touched the survey in over a week. “Should be done soon.”

She hangs up soon after. She’s never been one to take a sick day, but rather than dragging herself to her laptop to continue her assessment of the local infrastructure needs, Eleanor makes a selfish decision. She crawls back into bed.

Chapter 7

Eleanor’s cold clears up ina few days, each of which she spends trying to recover rather than employing her usual method of continuing to work through the sickness. She even wakes up from a nap on day three to Mila hand delivering two tubs of homemade matzo ball soup to her door courtesy of Dani, who isnotsick and is as busy as ever at the shop. An old family recipe and a surefire way to heal Nora’s cold, the attached note says. Since she still doesn’t have Dani’s phone number, Eleanor doesn’t get the opportunity to thank her for the gesture until she’s feeling well enough to venture out of the house again.

She’s idly flipping through one of the trashy magazines in the grocery store lineup when there’s a tap on her shoulder. She turns around to see a grinning Dani covered head to toe in green stains and tiny bits of grass.

“Hey, you! Feeling any better?” Dani says cheerfully.

Eleanor tries not to think about what it means that Dani’s presence has started to coincide with a feeling of safety. She shoves the magazine back onto the rack—they’re a guilty pleasure, and one she doesn’t need Dani knowing about.

“I am, actually,” Eleanor says, shifting her shopping basket to the other arm to block Dani’s view of the silly headlines. “I’ve been wanting to thank you for the soup. How did you know I was sick?”

“Mila said she saw you at the pharmacy. Since I’m probably the reason you caught a cold, I felt like I should make it up to you.”

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