Page 9 of Dad's Best Friend Scientist
“Okay.” My mom says. “It’s still early. I would take her to the park if I were you.”
“Stop it Mom,” I turn and hiss at her. “It’s not a date.”
I practically run down the stairs. Zena is waiting for me in the front yard. She’s gazing at the moon and she’s so beautiful that I pause before approaching her. Hearing my footsteps, she smiles at me, and then she does a double-take. Her eyes turn dreamy the moment her face becomes pink. That look tells me she likes what she sees, and my heart raps my ribcage with joy.Thanks, Mom.
“Let’s go,” I say as calmly as possible. Damn. It does feel like going on a date.
“Okay.” Zena bites her bottom lip and nods.
I have the impulse to wrap my arm around her but hesitate to do it. We walk silently for a minute. There are two routes to Zena’s house. The main thoroughfare would take less time, but I like the quietness of the residential streets. Besides, I let my mom’s suggestion stick in my mind. The park is close by.
Zena walks close to me as if seeking protection. I feel bad scaring her with my comments about the crime. I don’t know what got into me. Oak Valley is a safe town, and we have very little crime. But I just don’t feel safe to let her walk home alone in the dark. It's a weekend, and there could be drunken teenagers.
Our silence becomes awkward soon, and I rack my brain to think of topics. I wish to discuss the silly Séance session with her, but doing so might ruin the peaceful moment.
Chapter 10
Zena
David must’ve put on cologne before getting out of the house because he smells good. He also styled his hair besides putting on a new shirt. Although Linda might have made him do those things, I’m still pleased. I could hardly take my eyes off him when I saw him earlier. Damn. I’m so obvious.
Perhaps it’s because David mentioned it, or because of my self-consciousness, the streets seem unusually dark and quiet. I suddenly feel the invisible danger and walk very close to David for his protection. Our arms keep brushing against each other.
I’m so thrilled by the rare opportunity to be so close to David that I don’t know what to say. Feeling awkward, I comment on the night sky to break the silence. “The moon is so beautiful,” I say. “It must be a full moon.”
“Right,” David says as he looks up at the perfect silver plate in the sky. “The moon must be completely opposite of the sun now so we can see its entire day side. Although technically, it is the real half-moon.”
I take a second to register what he means, and then I smile. “Right. I keep forgetting that moonlight is just a reflection of sunlight. I learned that in eighth grade.”
“Exactly,” David says and launches into a lecture on the moon phases, solar eclipse, and lunar eclipse. I usually get bored by these scientific topics, but I wouldn’t mind listening to David’s explanation for the rest of the night.
David stops talking when we reach the community park.
“Ed used to spend mornings here fishing,” I say. I don’t know why I brought it up, maybe to break the silence again.
“Yes, he did,” he says. “I used to come with him as a child. I loved the place.”
“Me too,” I say. “But I haven’t been inside since junior high.”
By some unspoken connection, we both head toward the park’s entrance. A sign says it closes at six, but we go in anyway. We walk along the path around a lake. It’s nice and quiet inside except for some couples making out. The moonlight is all we’ve got for illumination and is more than enough.
We stop in front of a bench surrounded by bushes.
“Let’s rest a bit here,” David suggests.
My heart jumps in my chest like a rabbit. The whole thing feels surreal, especially given the moonlight. Am I dreaming? I’ve never in my wildest dreams conjured up anything as bizarre as going to a park with David Davison on a moonlit evening. I’ve fantasized about him, but all we did was kiss in my dreams. I never even had a clear location in mind.
“Sure,” I say and sit down gingerly, wondering what we would do. A wild thought comes across my mind: is David going to kiss me? I steal a glance at him and meet his eyes. I catch glimpses of the lust I saw earlier in the laundry room and shiver.
We sit silently for a moment before David clears his throat again. “I would like to resume our earlier conversation,” he says.
I take a moment to register what he means. “Oh, about the séances?” Shit. So much about my dirty thoughts. This walking me home has nothing to do with my safety or any romantic intention on his part. But then again, we need to finish the conversation and I’m going to ask him for help.
“Yes,” he says. “You need to stop giving my mom false hope.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, feeling both embarrassed and outraged. “She isn’t hoping for anything. She’s coping.”
“Exactly. She has to accept the fact that my dad’s dead. And you’re making her think he isn’t.”
