Along for the Ride(74)

‘Come on,’ he said. As he got out, I sat there for a moment, watching as he began to climb a narrow flight of stairs beside the garage. He never looked back to see if I was following him. Which was probably why I did.

Now, he shut the door behind me, then walked over to the kitchen, dropping his keys on the counter en route to turning on the coffeemaker. Only when it began to brew, the smell wafting toward me, did I go to join him.

‘Have a seat,’ he said, his back to me as he bent into the fridge, rummaging around for something. ‘There’s a chair.’

‘And only a chair,’ I said. ‘What do you do when you have company?’

‘I don’t.’ He stood up, shutting the fridge. He had a stick of butter in one hand. ‘I mean, usually.’

I didn’t say anything, instead just watching as he pulled a saucepan out of a cabinet, sticking the butter in it before placing it on the stove. ‘Look,’ I said as he turned on the burner, ‘what happened back there –’

‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘We don’t have to talk about it.’

I was quiet for a minute, watching as he melted the butter in the pan, tipping it from side to side. It was just another courtesy that he’d given me this easy out, the chance to move on, and I thought it was a gift I’d take, and gratefully. Until I heard myself say, ‘Remember how you were asking me what I’d failed at, earlier?’

He nodded, jiggling the pan over the stove. ‘Yeah. The social thing, right?’

‘That,’ I said, ‘and keeping my parents together.’

It wasn’t until I said this that I realized it was true. That I hadn’t blanked out at this question earlier so much as thought of an answer I couldn’t say aloud. At least until I’d overheard my dad and Heidi fighting, and it all came rushing back to me: those awkward dinners, with the picky little arguments, the unsettled feel of the house as the hours went on and on, closer to my bedtime. The way I learned to stretch the night all around me, staying awake and alert to keep all the things that scared me most at bay. But it hadn’t worked. Not then. And not now either.

I blinked, feeling a tear roll down my cheek. Three years of total stoicism, blown in one night. Talk about humiliating.

‘Hey. Auden.’

I looked up to see Eli watching me. He’d taken out a box of Rice Krispies at some point, and instead of looking back at him I focused on the faces of Snap, Crackle, and Pop, all gathered happily around a big cereal bowl. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, because for some reason, even with these cartoon distractions I still seemed to be crying. ‘I just… I don’t even think about this anymore, but then when I went to throw that paper, they were fighting, and it was so…’

He put the box down, then came over to the opposite side of the island. He didn’t try to reach out for me, or touch me. He just stood there, near, as he said, ‘Who was fighting?’

I swallowed. ‘My dad and Heidi. Things have been pretty bumpy since Isby came, and tonight I guess things just blew up, or something.’

God, I was still blubbering. My voice was all choked, coming in little gaspy sobs. Eli said, ‘Just because people fight doesn’t mean they’re splitting up.’

‘I know that.’

‘I mean, my parents used to go at it sometimes. It just kind of cleared the air, you know? It was always better afterward.’

‘I know my dad, though,’ I said. ‘I’ve seen him do this before.’

‘People change.’

‘Or they don’t,’ I replied. Finally I made myself look at him. Those green eyes, long lashes. His haunted face, not as haunted anymore. ‘Sometimes, they don’t.’

He just stood there, looking at me, and I had this flash of us, here in this little garage apartment, in the middle of the night. From up above, in a plane passing over, you’d just see one little light in all this dark, with no idea of the lives that were being lived within it, and in the house beside, and beside that one. So much happening in the world, night and day, hour by hour. It was no wonder we were meant to sleep, if only to check out of it for a little while.

There was a sudden crackling pop from the stove, and Eli looked over his shoulder. ‘Whoops,’ he said, turning back to the saucepan and pulling it off the heat. ‘One sec, let me just finish these.’

I wiped my hand beneath my eyes, trying to collect myself. ‘What are you doing over there, anyway?’

‘Making Rice Krispie treats.’

This seemed so odd, and incongruous, it almost made sense. Along with everything else that night. Still, I felt compelled to ask ‘Why?’

‘Because it’s what my mom always did when my sisters were crying.’ He glanced back at me. ‘I don’t know. I told you, I never have company. You were upset, and it just seemed…’

He trailed off, and I looked around the room, taking in the plain bed, the one chair. The single light outside the door, glowing yellow and bright, all night long.

‘… perfect,’ I finished for him. ‘It’s perfect.’

Of course, nothing is really perfect. But Eli’s Rice Krispie treats were pretty close. We ate half a pan while we split the pot of coffee, using the one chair as a table, each of us sitting on the floor on either side of it.

‘So let me guess,’ I said, putting my mug on the floor by my feet. ‘You’re a minimalist.’