Page 128 of Falling Backwards
She’s still fanning herself, but I don’t care—I reach out and take one of her hands anyway, folding mine around it.
The catch in her breath doesn’t escape me, nor does the flicker of suddenly shy liking in her expression.Yet she grips my hand right back.
I blaze hotter still.
There’s no way it isn’t true for her too.
The next little laugh we share is quieter.A bit awkward, though not in an unwelcome way.
We resume walking, letting our wrapped hands lower to hang comfortably between us.
She sighs and then asks, “Your scrapes feel a lot better?”even though she knows they do.She has checked on my hands every day since the night I hurt them.
Nevertheless, I confirm, “They’ve healed up great.”
“Great.”
We walk in silence again, but not for long; we start cracking up a bit more.Although I don’t ask if she’s thinking about my eggs Benedict disaster again, I suspect she is.
Indeed, her next question is, “Did you try to cook all that by yourself?”
“I did.”After a moment’s thought, I add, “Maybe that’s why I had trouble with it.Maybe it was a little much to try it for the first time without help.”
“Hmm.Maybe.”
Surely the idea I have also occurs to her.It’s an obvious one.
Suggest it,I think at her.Or I will.
Once, twice, thrice, her hand flutters around mine, like a fidget.Or like a count to three.
“Wanna try it together?”she asks.“It’s okay that you can’tteachmehow to make hollandaise—we can just figure it out together.”
I’ve already started nodding, happy we really are on the same page again.“Sounds awesome.”
“I think so too.”
“Let’s do it ASAP.”
Funny how I get the feeling she’s smiling again and then I look over and see I’m right.
“I love fruit and raw vegetables,” she says after a second.“Those are favorite foods of mine.And the spicy fries at Mellow Burger, but I haven’t been there since the Kyle stuff got scary.”
Momentarily, I remember, “Ah, yeah, ’cause he works there.”
“Mmhmm.”
I take my time deciding how to respond to that.
I end up with, “Well, I know we aren’t supposed to go places we think he’ll be, but it’s ass that you can’t eat one of your favorite foods just because of him.If you wanna get the fries one of these days, we can make it happen somehow.”
She considers it.“I guess it’s possible he wouldn’t be there,” she concedes.
“Yep.But even if he is, it would be okay.I wouldn’t leave you alone for a second.”
After another pause, she says more softly, “I know, and thank you, but…I’m not sure.The thought of seeing him again is upsetting.Even if we went to the drive-thru, he might be at the window, and then he’d know what kind of car we’re in—if he doesn’t already—and…and….”
I can practically feel worry about that last thing piling up on her.I give her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
