Page 56 of The Art Of Starting Over

The jitters were back. Those heart palpitations that made him feel like he was about to shake right out of his skin. He felt anxious and energized, like he’d drunk a four-pack of Red Bulls and was ready to run a marathon.

The worst part—he needed to put his hands somewhere, and his pockets didn’t suffice. When they entered the snack shack, it was crowded. Granted, the space was tiny, so more than ten people made it feel like there wasn’t any room to move around. Hayden used this as an excuse to reach for Devy’s hand.

You know, so she wouldn’t get lost.

Her fingers slipped between his effortlessly, and when she gave his hand a light squeeze, he smiled, thankful he was taller than her because he didn’t want her to see his cheesy grin. They got in line and stared at the illuminated menu.

“That thing has never been updated,” Dev said.

“Probably not. I can’t imagine this place brings in a ton of money with the giant megaplex forty minutes down the road.”

“I think that’s sad. Granted, I live in a megacity, but there’s something about the nostalgia a small town has.”

“Like fish fries.”

Devy’s eyes widened as she looked at Hayden. “I haven’t had a fish fry in a long time. Is Hank’s still open?”

Hayden nodded. “Does Maren like fish?”

“No, but my girl can put away corn dogs like there’s no tomorrow.”

He laughed as they stepped closer to the counter. “Conor is the same. His favorite are chicken fingers, and now with fancy sauce.”

It was Devorah’s turn to laugh. “Who knew ketchup and mayonnaise would be so popular together.” They took another step toward the front, still holding hands. “Some company bottles it, but I can’t remember who. Doesn’t matter because it’s not the same.”

“See, you get it. Ranch dressing from a restaurant isn’t the same as the bottle. I say this all the time, and no one believes me.”

“Believe me, I do.” Dev laughed again.

They approached the counter. The teen behind the cash register mumbled, “Can I help you?”

“We’ll take a bucket of popcorn, a box of M&M’s, and two large sodas. One Coke, the other Sprite.” Hayden looked at Devy for confirmation. She nodded. Hayden paid and then walked to the end of the counter.

While they waited, Hayden played scenarios over in his mind on how he was going to carry their snacks and hold Dev’s hand back to the truck. No matter which way he configured things in his mind, hand-holding was out.

After they got their things, Hayden put the candy in his back pocket and carried the sodas while Devy wrapped her arm around the warm bucket of popcorn and started munching on pieces.

“Is there going to be any left for me?”

“I’m not sorry,” she said, laughing. “I love the warm buttery pieces. In my mind I know I should try and shake them to the middle of the bucket, but my stomach is like, ‘Give me.’ I caved.”

Hayden chuckled and shook his head.

They reached the truck, and Hayden set their drinks down and then contemplated whether he would be able to pry the bucket from Devorah’s arm. He held his hand out. She looked from him to the popcorn, sighed heavily, and gave him her free hand. Hayden laughed hard—until Devy’s foot slipped, and she almost fell. Hayden caught her before she hit the ground. Miraculously, none of their popcorn spilled.

“Shit, are you okay?”

“Yes, thanks to you,” she said. “I think your truck hates me.”

“Well, I can’t have that. I guess I need to buy a new one.” Hayden scooped Devy into his arms, much to her shock, and set her on the tailgate. He didn’t want to risk any more incidents. As soon as she moved out of the way, he hopped into the back and brought their drinks to where they’d sit and watch the movie.

Hayden poured the candy into the bucket of popcorn and gave it a good shake. Thanks to Devorah eating most of the top layer off, there was some room to avoid any spillage. He set it between them, adjusted the volume on the radio so he wouldn’t have to do it when the movie started, and then took his spot next to Devy.

“It’s a beautiful night,” she said as the sun continued to disappear over the horizon.

“You know, for the first few months after Sofia died, I hated nights. Most of them were sleepless. I’d lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, asking myself the same questions over and over. ‘Why didn’t I insist on driving her? Why didn’t I tell her I’d pick her up at a certain time? What the hell am I going to do now? How do I raise Conor?’”

“I think things would be easier if ...” Devorah trailed off. “I know it’s mean to say, but then I wouldn’t have minor panic attacks when my phone rings or be afraid to look at a video on the app. I used to enjoyscrolling, watching funny dog videos or learning a new recipe. They took so much away from me because of how selfish they are.”

---