by Amy McNamara
“You sound so confident.”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “I am. I mean, why not, right? Confidence is free.”
He sweeps an arm toward the couch. “Pick your spot. There are blankets if you get cold. What do you want to watch? Boxing okay? I can stream a match through my laptop.”
The look on my face must say it all. Theo breaks into laughter.
“I’m messing with you! I’m not going to make you watch boxing.”
I take a spot in one corner of the couch and he sits next to me, the wind picking up his hair and blowing the scent of his shampoo my way.
It’s breezy up here, and I’m shivering. But it’s not only the cold, and not fear, either. This is excitement.
Theo wraps a blanket around my shoulders.
“I’ll warm you in a second. First let me get these heaters going.”
Aaah! What does that mean? I’ll warm you in a second? Where’s the implant that lets me record everything I see and hear? I’d be sending every byte to Em, asking her what I should do, what I’m supposed to do in a situation like this.
Theo stands and turns on the heaters, tall silver things he’s placed on either side of the couch. Then he sits next to me, blowing on his hands.
“I think it got colder again this week,” he says, pulling the blanket around his shoulders too and scooting in close. “Okay, so if we’re not going to watch the fight, you have to choose the movie. I made a list of titles.” He slips a small piece of paper out of his pocket. “Some old and some new. There’s the ever-fabulous Breakfast Club. Or The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I put Moonrise Kingdom on it because, you know . . .” He looks over at me, flashing that crooked eyetooth, “It has maps in it. Did you bring one to show me?”
I blush. Shake my head. Theo doesn’t press it.
Emma made me feel weird about them, like maybe there’s a good reason they’re kind of private. I couldn’t even make myself look through them until the last minute, digging them out of their hiding places in sketchbooks and folios just before I was supposed to be out the door. But none of them looked right, like the one I could bring to show someone else and say, here’s this thing I do.
Theo looks from the list to me. “No takers?”
“Em usually chooses,” I say, shifting in the corner. “I like almost everything.”
Theo eyes me, skeptical. “Okaaay . . . well, Em’s not here, so a few more options, then you’ll have to pick.”
I nod.
“How about Safety Not Guaranteed? It’s a time-travel movie, I think. Or 500 Days of Summer?”
He looks up at me.
“Go on,” I say with a grin.
“Picky, picky.” He smiles, running a finger down his list. “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind? Or if you were dying to see a movie about boxing, we could watch a classic, one my dad and I always watch, On the Waterfront.”
I shake my head and try not to feel automatically jealous of him for having a dad to watch movies with.
“Harold and Maude?”
“No, not Harold and Maude!” I say it so fast I kind of choke on the name.
Theo looks at me, surprised.
“Way too sad.”
“Sad? It’s hilarious and liberating.”
I shake my head, throat tight. “When I was like thirteen, my mom mentioned it was one of my dad’s favorites, so I watched it after school one day.”
“And?”
“And it took me weeks to recover.” I close my eyes. “That scene where Maude throws her ring in the water?” I try to swallow past the tight spot. “Too, too sad. I’d had enough of death. Call me a sappy romantic, but I wanted love to be enough. I wanted Maude to stay.”
“Love was enough. That was her point.”
I pour myself a glass of water and take a sip.
“I’m sorry,” he says, taking my glass and setting it back on the table. He wraps an arm around my shoulder, then presses his forehead to mine. “Someday we’ll watch it together and you’ll see how beautiful and positive Maude is.”
We’re close like that a minute, blinking blurrily at each other, then we kiss.
It might be the sky, or the twinkling lights, but it’s most likely kissing that finally helps me relax. This is a night in my life. It’s not a dream.
“So . . . what do you want to do?” he whispers after a bit, his lips hot on my neck.
I lean back against the cushions and stare up at the pillowy city-lit clouds. It’s a question I can normally never answer, but tonight I know exactly what I want. I reach for Theo and we kiss some more.
Reckless Generosity
“YOU’RE LATE! I THOUGHT YOU WEREN’T coming and I was going to get stuck with these poopers!” Em laughs when I meet her on the corner. The Sullivans have a dog walker during the week, because Em hates picking up after Sam and Grizzle, but the weekends are hers now. The dogs were really Patrick’s thing. But they’re crazy for her, tugging on their leashes, all fur and energy, thrilled to be out.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” I unwind Marcel’s leash from my wrist and let him greet his dog pals.
I’m late because my mom got up early to hear about my date. It felt weird telling her, so I kept it general, described the roof, the lights, the movie. I wanted to ask her why she didn’t try dating, why she just gave up, but I made pancakes instead.
“Well . . . ?” Emma asks. “You look happy. . . .”
I grin at her and give Grizzle a treat from my pocket. He’s an old, skeptical poodle with an underbite. I have a soft spot for him, messes and all.
“Oh my God, Evie, don’t keep me waiting! Spill!”
I’m suddenly embarrassed because I want to say that it was the night of my dreams, but that sounds so cheesy. “I can’t believe that happened to me,” I manage, laughing.
“You had sex!” she shrieks, the wind whipping up and blowing her hair across her face. I look around to see if anyone heard, but we’re alone on the sidewalk.
“What?!? No!” I look down and button my coat so I don’t have to see if she looks disappointed or not.
We set off down the block. Despite the weird early spring, this morning the air smells like snow.
“Nice hat . . .” She reaches over and pulls it down over my eyes. “New . . . ?”
I straighten Theo’s hat. He put it on me late last night, when we stood at the curb, waiting to find a cab. I pull the sleeves of my sweatshirt down over my hands.
“Details. Now.”
“I almost don’t want to talk about it—there aren’t words—”
“Oh my God, Evie! Your eyes look all shimmery. You’re in love!”
She bounces happily on the toes of her sneakers until the dogs get worked up too and tug her along wildly ahead of me.
Love. I blush at the word. A ridiculously grown-up concept, like husband or dinner party.
“I don’t know . . . maybe . . . ?”
She waits for me to say more.
I don’t know how to play this part, our roles reversed. I’m usually the one listening. For some reason my date feels impossible to talk about, private, not something I’m sure I want to share, not even with her.
Emma stops to let the dogs sniff and mark the base of a tree. Satisfied, they take off again. Marcel’s in a mood, lingering near the tree and refusing to budge.
“Come on,” I say to him, as lovingly as possible. “It’s okay.”
She turns back to me and circles her hand in the air. “More, more!”
I try a mysterious smile.
“No way, come on . . . !” she wails. Then she stops cold. Looks back at me again. “Wait. Are you sure you didn’t sleep with him?”
“I already told you, no. I didn’t sleep with him.”
Sam nips at Marcel’s backside and gets him moving again.
“No?” She’s eyeing me like she’s trying to spot a lie.
I shake my head. “It was . . . I don’t know, surreal, like something made up. Impossible and great.”
&nb
sp; I can still feel my hand on Theo’s chest, his collarbone, the solid curve of his shoulder.
“He brought me up to the roof. I wish you could’ve seen it, Em. It’s like something out of a movie. He had gas heaters and blankets and little bulb lights. . . .”
“Ooh!” Emma does a semi-ironic pirouette under her leashes.
“And we were going to watch a movie and eat pizza, but we kissed and talked instead.”
She stops, letting Sam tug her in protest. Looks at me almost with awe.
“Wow. Sounds amazing.” There’s an edge in her voice. Envy, maybe. “I’m so happy for you! What’d you talk about?”
I let the dogs lead me along a second and zone out on the trees lining the sidewalk. They’re covered in buds, small green knobs bursting bright against their stone-colored limbs.
“I don’t know . . . everything. Relationships, his ex-girlfriend, what we want to do in the world.” I close my eyes, remembering. “He’s saving to buy a building.” That part still impresses me. “We talked about how weird it is that some people have everything and other people nothing. He told me about going to buy a laptop a while ago, and when he left the Apple Store, he had to literally step over this homeless guy sleeping in the doorway. He said he still doesn’t know what to do with that, but he feels like he has to do something.”
“Deep.” Emma laughs. I ignore her and go on.
“I could have talked to him all night. We covered snow, and music, and childhood.” I pause so Marcel can sniff the bottom step of someone’s stoop.
“Of course you’d have that kind of night,” Em says, eyes bright.
I look back at her. Sam stops to do his business near the curb.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs, pulling a bag from the little pouch on his leash. She wrinkles her nose as she bends to clean it up. “It’s so you. Weird and cool and magical. I’ve never had a date like that . . . guys and I . . .”
She ties up the bag, her face a twist of disgust.
“You’re so lucky.” She shrugs and hands me the leashes so she can sprint to the corner to dump the bag in the trash. “It sounds too good to be true,” she says, coming back.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe that’s why I don’t want to talk about it with her.
“Oh my God!” Emma wallops me on the arm. “I’m not doubting you or anything. Lighten up. I’m totally teasing! You had a great date. Enjoy it, would you?”
But her face changes.
“What?” I know that look.
“I hate to be an actual downer after your dream night, but I can’t not tell you.”
“What is it?”
She bites the corner of her bottom lip, hesitant.
“I’m so, so bummed . . . my parents . . .” She drags it out, squinting at me, dark brows knit. “Evie, I’m sorry. Spain’s not happening.”
So she was right. Something was too good to be true. I just had the wrong thing. My heart sinks, even though I kind of knew it already. It’s why I couldn’t make myself ask her about it when the deposits were due. Why I didn’t try to get a passport. Disappointment’s hot in my throat.
“It’s okay,” I say as lightly as possible. My voice climbs an octave higher. The dogs pull me along faster. “I kind of figured!” I feel out of breath, can’t look at her for a second.
“Are you sure? You’re okay? I’m so, so sorry.”
I nod, embarrassed by how disappointed I feel, by the fact that I was stupid enough to think it would happen. Could. It’s like I got caught trying to get something for nothing. No free lunch, I know that. I focus on Grizzle’s underbite. He rolls his root-beer-barrel eyes up at me, like he knows what’s happening and is totally sympathetic. Rescues gotta stick together.
“Evie—”
“No, it’s fine.
She comes closer and puts a hand on my arm. “I wanted us to go together so bad—they don’t even have the right to say no, I was using my own money—but when I tried to get the cashier’s checks at the bank, they called my dad. Turns out you need approval on a youth account for transactions like that. Total bullshit. They’ve been telling me about my money forever; it’s not like this one extra ticket was going to use it all up. I’m so, so sorry.”
The bank called her dad? I need her to stop apologizing. I can’t help her not feel bad about this. Not right now, while my face is so hot it’s making me sick. Here goes the slippery world again. I’m never standing on anything solid, and when it all shifts I need a second to recover.
“But I thought you said they—”
She cuts me off. “It was me. I was taking you.”
“Oh God. Your parents don’t think I was asking you for it, do they?” I ask, feeling sick.
Mr. Sullivan’s a self-made man and loves to talk about how he got to where he is in the world. He takes a dim view of people who expect something for nothing. Sometimes when he says that I feel like he’s talking for my benefit, like he knows I’m at Bly on aid. They probably contribute to the scholarship fund. My stomach feels leaden.
“God, no!” Em says when she sees how I’m taking it. “Don’t get all worried or mad, Evie, they’d never think that about you. Patty and Frank just didn’t agree with my”—she take a breath and drops her voice into her father’s register—“sudden reckless generosity.”
The planned recipient of Emma’s recklessness wishes she could disappear. If I were alone I’d draw a map of Spain on the ground, then erase it.
We walk in silence. Emma stays close.
“I’m sorry, Eves,” she says again, her face a twist of what looks like real regret. “Besides, if we make a scene at Mamie’s show, they’re not gonna let me go, either.”
“It’s okay.” I give her a smile. “Really. Don’t feel bad. No biggie, you know? We’ll travel together another time. In college or something.”
I take a deep breath and force my shoulders back. I don’t need Spain. I’m the girl who chalked a heart in the back of a cab crossing the Brooklyn Bridge at midnight.
She reads my thoughts. “When do you see him again?”
I smile. “This week, I hope! I only went home when I did because I didn’t want my mom to worry. We kissed until the cab came.”
Evie looks at me with respect.
“Shit, Ramsey. You took your time getting here, but look at you now. Way to go.”
She’s right. I’m lucky. I’ll see Theo again soon.
Cake
ONLY I DON’T.
Theo doesn’t come over. He doesn’t call. Not on Sunday, not the entire rest of the week. Not the following weekend. I walk Marcel by the churchyard about a thousand times, my heart beating wilder with each pass, but there’s no sign of him.
“What if something happened? What if he got clocked in the head boxing and forgot my existence?” I shift my backpack to my other shoulder so I can pull out my keys.
Emma rolls her eyes at me, but she’s having a hard time staying focused on my situation because she cut afternoon classes to find Ryan at the bar where he works.
“It’s official,” she says for the hundredth time, slurring her words. “I’m dumped. He freakin’ dumped me.”
“Nice of him to send you off with a bottle of champagne. He’s high class.” I’m sarcastic. It won’t matter. She’s too drunk to care.
But she shakes her head and gives me a sloppy smile. “Nope. That I took. I asked if I could use the bathroom before I left, and there was a whole case just sitting there.”
I found her swaying on the corner a block away from school an hour ago, bottle in hand. I made her toss it in the trash, but it was already mostly empty. Then I looped my arm in hers and pulled her along to my place before anyone else caught on. We took the long way, stopping at the deli for a bagel and a gallon of coffee.
When we step into my apartment, the change of scenery seems to hit her reset button. She slides off her boots and drops her coat on the floor, then swings her focus back to Theo.
&nbs
p; “A week and a half is kind of insane,” she says, leaning against the wall by the door. “I mean, that’s effed up. Right? You have to do something. . . .”
“It’s embarrassing.” I moan, trying and failing not to feel low.
She pats me on the back.
“Tell me you’re going to do something, because you’re nice, Evie. And this is cute pencil boy. You need to know what’s up.”
“Don’t call him pencil boy.”
“Sorry, that does sound kind of weird,” she laughs. She chews the edge of her lip, then closes her eyes. With my luck she’ll fall asleep.
I kick my shoes off as noisily as possible onto the pile by the door and toss the mail on the table. I’m supposed to walk Mrs. Cohen’s dog for her today when I take Marcel out, but the dogs will have to wait. There’s no chance I’m leaving Em alone until she’s had about seventeen more coffees and doesn’t smell like a drunk debutante.
“. . . but Eves, he is weird.” She reanimates and drifts over to our low, wide armchair, her favorite spot. “I mean, who doesn’t have a phone? You knew that, going in. You can’t get all stressed out about it now.”
Phone or not, hearing nothing from Theo after a date like that is making me doubt everything I remember. Maybe it was only dreamy for me, not Theo. What if I’m so self-absorbed I didn’t notice he was hating it? The idea that I could have read it all wrong is horrifying but not outside the realm of possibility. What do I know about love?
“Here’s what you do.” Em spins so she’s sideways in the armchair. Her hair falls so long over the arm it brushes the floor. “Oh my God, this is the best idea, ever.”
“Yeah . . . ?”
She looks at me like she’s super serious, but her eyes are bleary and her cheeks still drunk-pink.
“So, so simple,” she says, as if enunciating more clearly is going to make it all right.
“What is?” I ask, exasperated.
“You’re gonna ask him to come to Ben’s party with you this weekend!” She lifts her head a second, energized by her plan.