Her laugh causes more powdered sugar to go flying into the air. She passes the food over to me, and we share it until it’s all gone and we’ve cleaned up the best we can, though her red dress has spots that won’t come out without a good washing. The sprinkles of water are doing little to help with the situation. They simply disappear into the fabric as soon as they make contact.
We stare at the lights of the fair beyond us, such a stark contrast to the dark night sky, obliterating any stars that are shining above it. It reminds me of how I feel when I’m around Audrey. How loud and bright and chaotic she can be. How she can swallow the entire environment around her until she’s the only focal point. She could dim even the brightest of stars if she’d just get out of her head.
My attention is back on her as my thoughts turn in my head and I can see her staring back up at me, the flashing lights in the distance reflected in her dark eyes. I lean forward and she doesn’t move, just keeps watching as I advance.
“You want me to kiss you so badly right now,” I say.
Her eyebrows draw together and she snorts, her eyes darting away instead of holding steady with my own. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. I can see it. But, I’m not going to. Not until you ask me. Because I think that’s a thing for you—asking people to do stuff. Asking for things. So, when you finally decide you’re ready for that kiss, you just let me know.”
She leans back on her elbows and looks up at the sky, her ponytail dragging along the grass as her eyes close and the rain hits her face lightly. “Nah. You’ll be waiting forever and a day, Elliot. I’m not gonna ask you to kiss me. We should keep it just like this. All this yearning. This build up to nothing. Will they? Won’t they?” Her eyes open and she looks over her shoulder at me, teasing, but her face is serious. “We’re gonna be the greatest love story never told.”
Somewhere along this trip I was supposed to find my mother. Some shred of closeness to her or a glimpse of who she was that would help me feel bonded to her in some way. But I feel more detached as the days wear on. I don’t feel like I’m learning more about Wendy.
Maybe I’m figuring myself out instead.
There’s a heaviness that’s settling on my shoulders as we travel into Mississippi, because it’s our final stop and the one that I’ve been both looking forward to and dreading the most. First, this is September’s home state, so once we’re done here, she’s staying, and I have no idea how this will impact Cline. Second, this is the place where I tell him everything, and afterward, I think maybe he’ll want to stay with her, and I might be a complete mess. The weight of what is to come gnaws at my insides and makes my stomach hurt, causes my head to feel heavy, the medications running through my veins protesting against the impending drop in serotonin.
My instinct is to curl into a ball and sleep. Maybe this was a bad idea. Perhaps everything I think will turn out okay is actually going to blow up in my face, and it will end a thousand times worse than anything I could even imagine. With shaking fingers, I reach beneath my seat and blindly grab for my bag. I’ve become so used to having it there in my time of need that it’s second nature to pull it out now. There was a time where I thought maybe feeling too much was better than not feeling anything at all, but I learned quickly that I was very, very wrong.
Elliot’s voice breaks through the chatter in my mind that sounds so loud it’s as if I’ve been having a full conversation out loud in the cab of the car by myself. And yet, we’ve been driving in silence, just the sound of the radio playing on low as background noise. “We’re going to grab some lunch at this place right up here. Are you hungry?”
The concern in his eyes jumpstarts my heart just the tiniest bit, working its way beneath the fog building around my brain. I place a smile on my face, as usual, and nod. “I’m starving.” I want bread. Carbs. Sugar. I’m suddenly craving anything I can get my hands on which might make me feel a little bit better about myself. Miranda would call this “eating my feelings.”
Cline and September are waiting in the parking lot, leaning against the back of her car, sucking face as we approach.
“Get a room,” Elliot jokes, poking Cline in the neck, knowing damn good and well that’s his most ticklish spot.
The Giant giggles like a girl and folds in half, then stands and straightens like he’s a man and narrows his eyes at his roommate. “We had a deal, man. That was a secret to the grave.”
Elliot shrugs. “I didn’t tell anyone you were ticklish. Technically, I just showed them. It’s more of a loophole than anything.”