You Have a Match(66)

“So you think you’ll ever go out and meet Mickey’s cousins?” I ask. “Teach them how to say ‘good morning’ in Elvish?”

“I’m going to talk to Carla about taking a trip next summer.” He pauses, some thought poised on the tip of his teeth, and adds, “And I think—well, this is a long way off, and assuming I don’t get laughed out of New York—but Mickey and I started talking about one day opening, like, a fusion restaurant. Menudo meets Cheetos. Lasagna balls meet banana leaves. Mickey’s childhood meets Leo’s. You know?”

I do know—I can practically see it. Somewhere medium-size and homey and warm, the kind of restaurant where everyone who goes there once immediately finds an excuse to go again.

I wonder if it will be in Seattle. I swallow down the lump in my throat, too scared to ask.

“Well, shit,” I say. “If I’m going to invest in this I’ve gotta find a way to get rich, fast.”

Leo lets out a rushed laugh, like he’s been waiting to float this past me for a while and is glad he finally got the chance.

“We’ll settle for you taking staged food pics for the website.”

“As long as I get to eat everything I shoot, you two have got yourself a deal.”

We both settle into this quiet that becomes less of a coincidence and more of an understanding. The grins on our faces falter at the same time, our eyes struggling to hold each other’s.

“So … tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” I echo, turning back to the water.

“You’re really leaving?”

I lift up my palms in a half shrug. “Doesn’t look like I have a choice.”

“You’re not gonna push back?”

I try not to stiffen. Leo may know that I’m not good at fighting my own battles, but he doesn’t understand this battle isn’t mine. It’s just one I’ve been in the cross fire of since before I was born. “No.”

Leo lowers his voice, the question gentler than the one that came before it. “You’re not mad?”

I don’t really want to talk about it, but it’s Leo. I can tell myself to put him out of my mind, to keep my distance, but nothing can erase more than a decade’s worth of spilling my guts out to him.

“I was. I am. But mostly I guess I’m just—”

I’m going to say scared, but it feels too dumb. These are my parents.

And I’m not scared of them, really. I’m scared of me. I’m scared things are going to change, now that the truth is out in the open. I’m scared that we will be tiptoeing around one another forever, trying not to wake the sleeping beast in every room.

I’m scared I won’t get to see Savvy again.

The fears build up, one on top of the other, one badly constructed, extremely flammable mound. I hadn’t put reason or words to them before, but that’s the thing. Leo is my touchstone. My compass. The steadying force that puts all the shaky things into view.

So I skip past all that and say the thing that scares me most—the one that has followed me since long before I found out about this.

“I’m—I’m scared I’ll always feel like I’m not good enough.”

Leo jumps on this like he’s the lifeguard of my brain, plucking out a drowning thought. “Your parents don’t think that. I know they—”

“It’s not only them. It’s … everything. With this thing with Savvy, with school, with…”

I’m getting too close to us—to the BEI, and what happened after. To how Leo and I are so far apart that I didn’t even get to be a part of the biggest decision he’s ever made. To this perpetual feeling that only gets heavier with every year, that I’m not cut out for what the world has in store.

“Abby … things are always going to move for different people at different times. You’ve gotta be patient. Set your own pace.” His voice goes so quiet that it sounds like one of the little waves that laps on the shore, like he’s pressing some quiet current into my ears. “It’s like I told you at the beginning of the summer. You’re an original.”

I huff out a laugh. I can hear the smile in his voice, even though I’m not looking at him.

“Good things are coming, Abby. I know that because I know you. You’re talented and you’re stubborn and you’re braver than you give yourself credit for.”

I want to believe the words so badly—not just because I’ve been trying to grow into words like that my whole life. But because the words are coming from him.

“I wish you saw yourself the way I see you.”

I press my eyes closed for a moment, but when I open them I’m every bit as shaken. “Leo…” It’s not confronting him, really, but it’s as close as I can get after a day like this. “You didn’t even tell me you were thinking of leaving.”

His mouth opens slightly, fast enough that he can’t hide the surprise on his face.

“Abby, it wasn’t like that, really,” he insists. “I just—I didn’t even think I could get in. I didn’t tell Connie either.”

I wince.

“Yeah, but we’re…” Different, I want to say. But I guess we’re not.

I glance over at him, grappling for a change of subject. But his eyes are so earnest that mine get stuck on them, tipping me over into some part of him that’s always been mine. Some ache under the surface we’ve always shared, except now it’s as plain as ever, the light of the dimming sun exposing it in every plane of his face.