God is in the Pancakes

by Robin Epstein

  “Uh, I’m not sure I’m ready to dance quite yet,” he replies. “I think I need to warm up a bit first. You know, do some stretching.”

  “Totally. I wouldn’t want you to pull a hamstring.”

  “I promise we won’t flower against the wall all night,” he says. “But trust me, you don’t want me anywhere near you during a fast song. Not only would you risk physical injury, but I could potentially scar you psychologically, as well.”

  “Well, look who it is,” Jake says as he and Lolly walk off the dance floor. Lolly and I hadn’t seen each other before the dance because one of Jake’s friends was having a pre-party, so she was out before I’d even gotten home that afternoon.

  “Hi, Jake. Hi, Lolly,” I reply.

  “When did you get here?” she asks, looking me up and down. “And did Mom buy you that dress?”

  “We got here about a minute ago,” Eric replies for us. “Matter of fact, I’ve barely had time to show her off and make the other guys here jealous of my great-looking date.”

  “He’s right.” Lolly smiles. “You look beautiful. You too, Eric. You clean up pretty good.”

  “Thanks. Right back atcha.” Eric smiles.

  The song changes again and Jake squeezes Lolly’s hand. “Lol, come on, I love this song,” he says.

  “Okay.” She shrugs her shoulders and turns to the dance floor. Jake walks ahead, but Lolly turns back to Eric and me. “So I’ll just let you two stand here awkwardly together now, each of you admiring how hot the other looks, both of you too scared to act on it.” And with that, she flits off to find Jake and shimmies seamlessly into the crowd.

  Although Eric and I had been perfectly comfortable and jokey with each other a minute ago, now, as Lolly predicted, we’re silent.

  “Don’t laugh at me for saying this, okay?” Eric says. “But I’m really glad we came tonight.”

  “Because it’s a good idea to see and be seen by your teammates?” I ask. Eric shakes his head and smiles. I smile back, knowing that there’s no place more I’d rather be than standing next to him right now. “I’m glad we came too.”

  “It just feels right being here with you,” he says. “Do you want to sit down?” Eric asks, and when I nod, he takes my hand and leads me over to the chairs farthest from the speakers. His palm is a little moist, but it doesn’t matter, because right now it just feels good against my skin; feels like there’s warmth and life pulsing through it.

  When we get over to the chairs, we sit down, but Eric doesn’t let my hand go, and I think just how all right it would be if we sat here the rest of the night, hand in hand.

  “Is this weird?” he finally says, looking at me.

  “A little,” I say, “but weird good.”

  “Fantastic,” he replies with a smile, “just the mood I was hoping to set.”

  “You know what I mean,” I say, giving him a little tap on the chest. I let my hand rest there for a moment and he puts his other hand on top of it, holding it against him.

  A couple of songs play as we sit there not talking, just being together. And I realize how lucky I am. I also realize how quickly things can change, both for the good and, well, otherwise. It’s scary to think about things like that, especially now as I’m feeling happier than I have in as long as I can remember. But I now also know that it’s as important to keep this in mind, particularly during the days when things seem darkest. Because living through each moment brings you closer to new light. It might not make things better right then, but having faith that it will helps.

  “Come on,” Eric says when that old Cure song “Just Like Heaven” starts playing. He stands and starts walking to the dance floor as others stream off.

  I put my arms around his neck, and he rests his around my hips, smiling at me as he does this.

  “Weird but good.” He nods.

  “Come here,” I reply, smiling widely before I reach up and kiss him.

  This, actually, doesn’t feel weird at all. It just feels good. I think that’s what Isabelle would tell me it’s supposed to feel like, and that makes me smile.

  “What?” Eric asks, feeling my lips curl up. “Am I doing something wrong?”

  “Un-uh.” Out of the corner of my eye I see Natalie, who is now standing alone watching us. “Hey, did you want to dance with her?” I say, tilting my head in Natalie’s direction.

  “No,” he replies. “No, Grace, I told you, and I will continue to tell you I want to be here with you.”

  “Good,” I say.

  “Good.” He nods again.

  And it is.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A FEW EARLY READERS DESERVE HEARTFELT THANKS: Kate Morgenroth and Alison Pace were extraordinary note-givers and generous with their time. They not only gave sharp advice, they gave me hope the book would float. Renée Kaplan, among other things, helped me realize that my first title was a loser, and that I really needed to find something catchier. To her I not only owe thanks, but a lifetime supply of pancakes.

  Whether it was luck or divine intervention that brought me to Talia Rosenblatt Cohen, my brilliant agent, that’s still TBD. But I was incredibly fortunate to work with her and when she left the biz, the angels wept (and I did a little too). Tamar Rydzinski stepped into Talia’s big shoes, and she also deserves thanks.

  My talented editor, Kate Harrison, invested blood, sweat, and years in this book. Kate agonized over every single word of this bad boy with me. Her dedication was astonishing and she brought the book to a different level. A big bow to her.

  Thank you, Amy Epstein Feldman, my super-cool sister, who makes every day more fun. Thanks to Len, Maddie, Benjy, and Eli Feldman for all the love. To Jay Dyckman because he’s my favorite heartthrob and always makes me laugh. And my parents, Marcia and Paul Epstein, get my deepest gratitude for, well, for everything. They’ve been role models and sounding boards, and their love and support continue to “warm the cockles of my heart.”