Page 30 of To Catch a Firefly

Gabby goes on as I eye the machinery. “Did I tell you about the new high-protein diet I switched her to? I swear she’s got an extra pep in her step lately. It’s like she’s a pup again.”

Ah, there’s a loose bolt on the stabilizer arm. I give it a wiggle.

“God, it’s hot today,” Gabby says. She pulls her hair back, holding it off her shoulders in a loose ponytail. “What are you doing?”

Pushing myself off the concrete warehouse floor, I step over to the tool chest. Marcus doesn’t want us doing any major work on the machinery—he calls the guys from the company for that—but I know he won’t mind me tightening a bolt. When I grab the wrench, I hold it up to show Gabby, and she nods, dropping her hair and fanning her face instead.

“Are you going to the corn festival next weekend?” she asks.

I shrug as I walk back to the tractor. Our town has held a summer corn festival for longer than I’ve been alive. I used to like going when I was a kid, sampling the different flavors of popcorn and going through the corn maze. Lucky hated that festival on principle, but he made it more fun, too, once he came to town. Lucky’s always had the ability to make just about anything fun.

These days, the festival has lost its luster for me. Maybe that’s simply because I’ve grown up—how excited can an adult get about corn, after all, especially one who works with it day in and day out? Or maybe it’s because I know no new memories made there could hold up to the old.

Either way, it’s been years since I went.

“I heard they’re doing a cornbread cook-off this year,” Gabby says as I lower myself to the ground. It’s an awkward angle, getting my arm in the spot needed to tighten the bolt. “I was thinking I might enter. I have this recipe from my gran that, uh… Um…”

Gabby trails off as I find the right angle to reach the bolt. I’m on my side, one leg forward for balance and arm stretched high. It only takes a few twists before the bolt is snug in place, and then I look back at Gabby, who’s stopped talking.

Her eyes snap to my face, and she gives me a quick smile. “Um, yeah. It’s good. A good recipe.”

I nod before giving the other bolts a check, but none of the rest are loose. Gabby is quiet as I stand back up and right my shirt.

“Hey,” she says, fanning her face again. “I was sorry to hear your mom is leaving.”

My sigh comes from deep within, a feeling more than a sound. I give Gabby a nod, and her face pinches in sympathy.

“She’s such a nice lady,” she says. “Always patient.”

That she is.

“It doesn’t seem fair…”

Gabby doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t need to. No, it’s not fair what my mom is going through. But life doesn’t operate on fairness, does it?

“Right,” Gabby says, her voice soft. “Well, I should probably get back to work.”

I give her another nod as I put the wrench away. She takes a step before stopping, her sundress floating around her knees.

“Hey, Ellis?”

I wait.

“I was wondering if you’d want to go with me. To the festival.”

It takes me a moment to react, but Gabby waits, a gentle, hopeful smile on her face. “I…” And then it clicks. “Friends? Or…a date?”

Her head tilts to the side just a little, an action that feels somewhat vulnerable, although I couldn’t say why. Her smile stays in place. “A date, if you want it to be. And, if you don’t, then as friends.”

I don’t know what to say. Well, that’s not entirely true. Instinctually, my reaction is to tell her no to the date, that I’m not interested in her that way. Except—what if I could be? I’ve wondered, on occasion, what creates attraction. I’ve only everfelt it for one particular person, but I know, for others, it’s not the same.

Attraction can be swift, instantaneous and all-consuming, like wildfire. It can be slowly crafted and tended to over time, an ever-changing canvas, brush strokes built over one another until the picture is clear. It can be lost, I think, for some.

But what makes one person look at another and thinkyes, this one. I want this one?What makes their heart beat faster? What makes their body react?

Is it our atoms, working on a level we’ll never understand? Is it fate or kismet or something out there pulling threads together? Or is it simpler than all that? Is it our humanity, our need for connection and closeness with others?

I don’t think I’ll ever know, but maybe that’s exactly why I should say yes. Could I find that something in Gabby that feels like home? Maybe.

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