Again, But Better(86)

“Uh, no, I mean, like, go again … to a place … with you and the gang. Pilot. Again.”



* * *



Later, Babe and I sit in the kitchen together. I’m working on another new blog post. I’m surprised to find a comment from Leo on the Rome post. On my blog. Using his lame old screen name.

LeoBaseballPrimaveri Why aren’t you posting anything on Facebook?




I don’t even know what Future Leo is up to. He got a job at the local gas station for a while after he dropped out of school, and then moved out to New York City. 2017 Mom never talks about him in our bristled conversations, and Future Leo doesn’t use Facebook.

I haven’t posted all the Rome photos, but I included a bunch in this post. They’re not on Facebook because I’m not in the market for a running life commentary from the fam. If they want to see what I’m up to, they can read it on the blog.

Next to me, Babe’s plucking away at a paper, waiting patiently for Pilot to return so she can pop the Paris question. She jumps to attention when he finally walks through the door with a frozen meal.

“Hey, Pilot!”

“Hey, Babe.” He turns to me with a smile. “Shane.”

“Happy Monday.” I grin.

“So, Babe, I was thinking we should go on a trip again this weekend,” Pilot says casually.

Babe eyes me with a suspicious smile, and I raise my eyebrows: I didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” she says slowly.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks.

“Where do you want to go?” she asks suspiciously.

“How about we both say where on three?” Pilot suggests cheekily.

“Why?” Babe asks as I start counting.

“One, two, three!”

“Paris!” they exclaim simultaneously. Pilot laughs, and I cackle behind my computer.

Babe is amused. She thinks I told him. “Okay, you two talked already. Does this mean you’re down?”

“Why not,” Pilot agrees as he pops his frozen meal into the microwave. I glance at Babe, and she waggles her eyebrows at me. I roll my eyes, suppressing a grin.

Babe and I make ourselves pasta while Pilot eats his frozen meal. When he’s finished, he takes out his laptop, pulls on his headphones, and retreats to the chair in the corner to work. I settle in at the table to eat and watch something on Sawyer.

“Hey,” Babe starts. I look up to where she’s dressing her pasta in a bolognese sauce. “Do you play cards at all? I picked some up earlier.”

A smile tears across my face.



* * *



We buy our train tickets to Paris. We’re leaving on the same schedule as last time and staying at the same crappy hostel. I let Babe plan it the same exact way because I’ve been itching to redo this trip for years. It wouldn’t feel right changing the setting.

The three of us spend the evening playing Rummy 500. Sahra whooshes in and out during our first few rounds before finally settling in to join us. Atticus shows up at eight and suggests a game of BS. We chat and cackle until my cheeks hurt from smiling.

Atticus leaves the kitchen first because he has an early morning. Babe, Sahra, Pilot, and I play one last round of BS. It’s not till then that I remember: Pilot was supposed to break up with Amy.

My stomach lurches. How the hell did I forget? From that point on, I have a hard time focusing on the game. When Babe wins, she and Sahra pack up and walk back to the room. Pilot shows no sign of leaving, so I linger, pretending to do something on my computer.

“You going to sleep too?” he asks. I swallow, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Um, yeah I guess so.” I close Sawyer, pick him up, and hop out of my chair. A millisecond later, I sense it falling. I whirl around with a gasp and snatch it awkwardly by the seat with my one free hand. Carefully, I lower myself and the off-kilter chair to the floor.

Pilot stands, watching me across the table with an amused expression. “I’ve noticed that you’re trying super-hard to make peace with the devil chairs.”

I shake my head. “I’m being so nice to them, and they just continue with the rudeness.” I gather my feet under me and pop up off the ground. Pilot’s here now; he picks up the chair and pushes it back into place at the table.

“Some chairs never change,” he says.

I snort and head slowly around the table toward the door. He follows me out. We walk together down the hall, veering off to our respective doors. I dig in my bag for my key.

“Hey,” Pilot says behind me. I turn around. He’s leaning against his door, so I stop fumbling and lean against my own door.

There’s a long pause where I look at him expectantly. Oh god, he’s having second thoughts. He wants to leave. He didn’t break it off. Is he waiting for me to speak?

“Hey,” I respond belatedly.

“I broke up with Amy,” he says.

My heart jumps two feet outside my chest. Shit. Get back inside me.

“You—” I start.

He cuts me off. “Yeah.”

I swallow, pausing to look at the ceiling. He did it! What do I say? My head bobs around, not in a nod or a shake, just in a weird bob.

I decide on, “Okay.”

He pulls a thoughtful Soprano frown, jutting out his bottom lip, and nods. “Okay.”