Page 43 of Lovely War
Annie: I accept your invitation (note to lawyers: PLATONICALLY). I swear this is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, amen
Ben: Sorry to disappoint with the lack of spice. Please resume searching for crimes.
He hasn’t assuaged my concerns, but I’m smiling anyway.
The episode startswith a dance contest, with the winner determined by heart rate monitors. Whichevercontestant gets the others’ blood pumping fastest earns a couples massage. It ends with Felicia abandoning Cole in the rainforest after he calls her annoying during a scavenger hunt. I definitely lose some brain cells watching, but it’s worth it.
When it’s time to go, I put on my new coat, an oversized parka with insulated pockets and a giant hood that cinches tight with long drawstrings. Yesterday’s snow melted this afternoon and is starting to refreeze. An ice-and-salt crust sits on the sidewalk like patches of bread crumbs, so I’ve also resorted to a pair of practical waterproof boots.
“Those are nice!” Eric says as he watches me tug them on. “Where’d you get them? Do they make them in men’s?”
Now I need to burn them, but I can’t do it yet. I need to walk home with Ben first.
“So,” I begin as we set off. The piles of plowed snow lining the road are already turning gray. The first house after Cassie and Eric’s condo building has a lopsided snowman in the yard, one stick arm jutting upward as if to wave at us. Ben too is wearing boots this time, instead of fussy sneakers. And he doesn’t have Sasha today.
“So,” he repeats.
“Are you cracking under the weight of our deception?”
He breathes out a puff of laughter and it hangs in the air like a cloud. “No, I’m good. Are you?”
“I’m fine. You don’t go to confession, do you?”
He squints down at me. “Like, at church? No. Why?”
“No reason, just wondering. What other kind of confession is there?”
“I don’t know, the way you said it made me think you were talking about a workout class or something.”
I snort. “A workout class called Confession? What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t know! Sometimes I see you leaving the classes at the gym. They always have new ones, I can’t keep track.”
I hold up my fists in a fighting stance. “I do boxing classes. It helps with my inner rage.”
He cocks his head skeptically. “Does it?”
I pretend to hit him with a jab. Confession, the Workout. Hm. Groups of people lunging to the beat of techno hymns, repeating chants about sin and forgiveness. “I think you’ve stumbled upon something genius. We’re going to be so rich.”
We both smile. It’s silent and still out here. Usually there’s at least one person walking a dog in this neighborhood, but not tonight. Somebody in one of the old stone houses on this block has a fire going, and the air smells like wood-smoke.
“So I don’t have to worry about you telling everybody the truth, then?” I ask.
His face grows sober. “I wouldn’t do that to Quincy, or to you. We made our decision. And I think it was the right one. He seems like he’s handling things well.”
“I think so too,” I say. “I’m hoping it’s like hitting the reset button. I want to see him come back strong.”
“If he’s at the top of his game, we can hang with any team in the country.”
We turn the corner onto an even quieter side street, narrow and poorly lit, the sidewalks only half cleared of snow. I dodge an icy spot by stepping onto the frozen grass. “Why are we walking when you don’t even have Sasha?”
“Didn’t you say you like to walk in this weather?”
“Right.” Is that what I said that first week? I remember fumbling for an excuse but not coming up with such a terrible one. Nobody likes to walk in this weather. “Where is Sasha, anyway?”
Somehow he looks steady, picking his way through the slippery spots with ease as I struggle. He glances at me. “This sidewalk is a mess. I think it’ll get better when we get to the corner. Do you need help?”
I’m walking like a penguin, taking short steps with my arms out for balance. “I got it, thanks.”
