Page 38 of Every Step She Takes
I cannot believe I’m expected to carry on an intelligent conversation amid these weirdly sensual touches, but I clear my throat and try. “Size nine, usually.”
“Perfect.” Mal stops touching my feet once and for all and quickly gets up to fetch her dirty Hokas from over by thedoor. “These should fit you. I want you to try wearing these tomorrow.”
I sputter at this generous offer. “B-but then… then what will you wear?”
“I can wear my hiking sandals.” Mal shrugs. “It’s only a fourteen-mile day.”
Only.
“At least we’ll give your feet a reprieve from these torture devices.” She picks up one of my hiking boots and then tosses it over her shoulder with a flourish.
“I-I can’t let you do that for me.”
She breezes right past my protest. “And your wool socks are quality, but the most important thing is to keep your feetdrywhile trekking. Here.” She tosses me something. “Try these under your socks. Don’t worry. I haven’t worn that pair yet.”
I hold up the thin socks she’s handed me. “Toe socks?”
“Trust me. They’ll feel weird at first, but they’ll stop your toes from rubbing together while sweaty. It makes a huge difference.”
Suddenly, the pair of toe socks in my hands feel like the nicest gift anyone has ever given me.
“Oh, and did you pack any Vaseline? Never mind, actually. Mine is right here.”
“Why are you doing this for me?”
She stops riffling through the pouches of her bag and turns toward me. “What do you mean?”
“Um, well, it’s just…” I twist the toe socks in my hands. “Well, you’ve seemed annoyed with me ever since you discovered we’re on the same trek.”
Mal purses her lips in a very annoyed fashion. “Why would I be annoyed with you?”
“Because I’m the drunk woman who weirdly came out to you when I thought I was dying, and now you’re stuck with me.” I cringe at myself. “Because I’m a ridiculous fool whoknows nothing about the Camino or Portugal or what shoes to wear.”
“You confuse the shit out of me, Freckles,” Mal explodes, and the tub of Vaseline in her hands goes flying.
It takes me a second to realize thatFrecklesis a proper noun in this context. ThatI’mFreckles. By the time I put it together, Mal is ranting again. “How can someone who owns and runs her own small business have zero self-confidence?”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. Mal huffs and then plops herself down on the floor beside me.
“I’m not annoyed with you, Sadie,” she says softly, “and I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say.
“And I’m doing all of this for you, my sweet baby gay, because that’s what we do for each other. As your queer elder, I have to look out for you.”
“Queer elder? What are you, like two years older than me?”
“Queer elder is more a state of mind than an age,” she says. “It’s like I’ve been trying to tell you. As queer people, we operate on different timelines.Youare on a different timeline, and that’s okay.”
I rotate the pair of socks in my hand. “Thanks,” I grumble. “For, um… for acting like I’m queer.”
Mal snorts. “What are you talking about? Youarequeer.”
“Not on this tour.”
“Ah. Right. Because everyone keeps calling you straight.”
“Ihateit,” I admit. “And I don’t know why, because I don’t want them to know I’m gay. I don’t even really know if I am gay or bi or pan or whatever! And it’s not like I’ve ever dated a woman or anything.”
