Look Both Ways(54)

“Oh, come on. Are you telling me there’s not one single thing you secretly love?”

“Of course there is. But I think that if you like something, you should just like it. You don’t need to apologize for it or explain yourself to anyone. Why should liking something make anyone feel guilty?”

“You’re right,” I say, and I wonder if he’s thinking about Olivier.

With Zoe, I was always satisfied playing this game with normal topics like amusement parks and sad books and the idea of having children. But Russell pushes me to come up with quirkier, funnier, more creative topics: guessing the killer right from the beginning of a mystery, sticking your hand out the window while you drive, that feeling of falling you get when you’re right on the edge of sleep. I had thought Zoe’s and my new version of Love or Hate was as good as the old way, but now that I’m playing this game with words again, I’m surprised by how much better I like it. Having someone really listen to me actually makes me feel closer than touching does.

When you start dating someone, people always say you’ve become “more than friends.” But now, as I laugh with Russell, I’m less sure that what Zoe and I have now is more than we had before.



I hear him roll toward me in the dark. “Hey, Brooklyn?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

I hadn’t planned to do much of anything besides sulking in my room and hoping Zoe came home early. “Nothing, really. Why?”

“I was thinking of driving around the Hudson Valley a little bit and checking out some of the other weird small towns around here. You want to come?”

“Is there a group going?”

“No, it would just be us.”

For a second I feel disloyal to Zoe for even thinking about it; first I’m playing our game with someone else, and now I’m considering spending my day off alone with Russell. But she’s the one who should feel guilty; she’s across campus having sex with someone else right now while I’m having an innocent pajama party with my gay friend.

“That sounds really fun,” I say. “I’d love to.”

“Great. Maybe we could grab breakfast at Kayla’s first? I’ve been meaning to try their scones.”

I tell him I can’t wait, and for a few minutes, I’m proud of myself. If Zoe gets to have fun without me, I get to have fun without her, too. But as I try to fall asleep in an empty bed for the first time in eight days, I can’t help missing her.





The next morning is bright and sunny, and Russell and I pick a random direction and set off down the highway. We stop in every town we pass and investigate the weird little shops—the one that sells knives carved from animal bones, the bookstore full of tomes about conspiracy theories, the antiques shop with the dresses that were supposedly owned by Audrey Hepburn. We buy a baguette and some cheeses with fancy names and have a picnic next to a half-dry creek. We play Love or Hate. We think up titles for silly Shakespeare-musical mash-ups, like A Midsummer Night’s Dreamgirls and The Lion King Lear and Thoroughly Modern Macbeth. Russell tells me you can write a thirty-five-mile-long line with the average pencil and that it’s illegal to burp inside a church in Nebraska. When we get back to Allerdale in the evening, we grab dinner at Sammy’s and spend a couple of hours messing around on one of the practice room pianos.



It should be a perfect day. Instead, I spend the entire time missing Zoe.

The scenic crew and I start loading the Macbeth set into Legrand early on Saturday morning, so I don’t see her again until we’re all called in for a surprise company meeting that night. The second Russell and I walk into Haydu, she calls my name from across the room, and a smile breaks across my face when I spot her waving and gesturing toward the seat she’s saved for me. She looks a little tanner from hiking, and it’s strange and terrible that she could change even a little bit in the two days we’ve been apart.

“I’m going to sit with Zoe,” I tell Russell. “You want to get dinner after the meeting?”

He looks surprised; we’ve spent so much time together the last couple of days that I guess he expected me to sit with him. But when he says, “Sure,” he doesn’t sound upset at all. “I’ll meet you out front when this is over.” He smiles at me and then heads straight for Olivier, who’s chatting with Barb near the stage.

I bump into a bunch of people as I hurry over to Zoe; I can’t get to her fast enough. When I sit down, she hugs me close, and even though the arm of the chair is digging into my side, even though I know I should be pissed at her, I never want her to let go.

“Hey,” she says close to my ear. “I missed you.”

I think, No you didn’t, but what comes out of my mouth is, “I missed you, too. Where’s Carlos?”

“He’s showering. Hopefully this meeting won’t take long. Do you know what it’s about?”



“No,” I say, and I try not to think about the reasons Carlos might need to shower at six in the evening. “Hopefully it’s nothing bad. Did you guys have fun camping?”

“Yeah, it was great! The Catskills are gorgeous, and the hike we did was supereasy after what we’re used to at home. Look at this!” She digs out her phone and shows me a picture taken from the top of a small mountain.