A Million Miles Away(31)
With that, Gillian slid on her jacket, and opened the door.
“See you then,” Kelsey replied, but by that time, the door was closed between them.
2/10, 1:32 am
From: Maxfield, Kelsey
To: Farrow, Peter W SPC
Subject: (no subject)
Peter,
You are such a good person, and you deserve the truth. I’m just not sure that you would ever want to hear this truth, which is why I haven’t told you yet.… You’re probably wondering why I’m emailing you. I’m Kelsey—Michelle’s sister, we met in my kitchen. And I need to tell you that SAVE AS DRAFT?
SAVED
2/10, 1:44 am
From: Maxfield, Michelle
To: Farrow, Peter W SPC
Subject: got cut off
Oompa-Loompa, do-ba-dee-doo / A friend came over to borrow my shoes Then I remembered we were supposed to eat pizza / Nothing rhymes with pizza Talk to you next week?
SENDING…
SENT
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When there was nothing on TV, Kelsey and Davis used to sit on her porch in the summer, drinking AriZona iced tea, going back and forth with “It’s so hot…” jokes. Most of them were so old-timey they barely made sense. It’s hotter than a two-dollar pistol on the Fourth of July was a good one. It’s hotter than a pig tart in pig church was one Davis had said that made her laugh so much that she started laughing at the fact that she was still laughing.
Tonight, Valentine’s Day, they met at a table for two at one of the fancier places downtown, Kelsey in her little black dress and heels, Davis in a T-shirt that read THE DUDE ABIDES under his blazer. The waitress at the Eldridge had come around for the third time, but Kelsey still couldn’t decide what she wanted. Davis sat across from her, fingers drumming next to his salad fork, or his dessert fork, or whichever fork it was.
“How about the lamb?” he asked.
“Too rich,” Kelsey muttered. The smell of garlic from the kitchen was making her stomach turn. Or maybe it was anxiety. Or the fact that Gillian hadn’t said one word to her for the last four days. That she’d suggested that Kelsey was being unfaithful to Davis, and even though she technically wasn’t, she felt guilty. Or maybe she was guilty.
Davis smiled, clearing his throat. “All the more reason to eat them. These lambs led a good life.”
He paused, waiting for laughter. He hadn’t noticed she was upset.
“More time?” the waitress asked.
“Looks like it,” Davis said, giving the brunette with a bow tie an apologetic wink. Kelsey rolled her eyes.
“Sorry,” Kelsey said. “Sorry,” she repeated to Davis when the server had left.
“No worries, baby. We’ve got all night,” he said. “How about the gnocchi?”
“What’s gnocchi? It sounds like a mythical creature.”
“You don’t know gnocchi? Little potato things. The turds of the potato, if you will.”
“Gross.” Tiny, heart-shaped confetti was scattered in gold flecks on the tablecloth. She brushed them off.
Davis stood, bending over to kiss her on the cheek, and signaled the waitress. In his most soothing voice, he declared, “Eat the potato turds. They’re delicious.”
“If you say so,” Kelsey said, surrendering her menu.
“Plus,” Davis continued, “I’m getting my degree in psychology, and in my soon-to-be-professional opinion, you are beautiful. And you need to eat some food and enjoy this fake holiday. And now…” He bent to kiss her on the other cheek, his scruff brushing her face. “I gotta pee.”
Kelsey sat in the wake of his cologne. She was being sensitive, she knew that. But there seemed like no other way to be. Davis didn’t want to hear another weepy monologue. He wanted her to relax, to “eat some food and enjoy this fake holiday.”
This was Davis’s mode of operation, and Kelsey wasn’t about to change it now.
When she was in danger of failing all her classes junior year, he had responded to her panic by telling her not to worry, she could always get a job at McDonald’s, or as a magician’s assistant.
At Michelle’s funeral, Davis had suggested getting away, as if grief could be cured by fresh air.
He was perpetually on the bright side. He couldn’t help it. Sometimes his optimism was good for Kelsey.
But sometimes, when the dark was so vast, it was impossible to join him.
When Davis returned to his seat, Kelsey nodded along to a story about how he and his fraternity brothers broke into the backyard of the KU basketball coach, and put birdseed in the shape of a Kansas Jayhawk in the grass.
The food arrived.
“Why birdseed?” Kelsey asked, placing her napkin in her lap.
“Good question. To attract birds, of course.” Davis picked up his fork and dug into his lamb. With his mouth full, he continued, “So then all these birds feed on it, and it becomes a bird shape made out of several actual birds.”
“That’s…”
“An unconventional, creative way to display school spirit?”
Kelsey took a bite of her gnocchi. The noodles had the texture of large peas.