You pick one thing, and your life goes one way.
You pick something else, and it’s completely different.
This thing he’s about to do: I believe in it. But I’ve spent a lot of years trying to do the right thing for the wrong reasons. Now I want to try doing the right thing for me.
Still, it feels like I’m turning down more than just an opportunity to help launch a nonprofit. It’s almost as if I’m losing something else too.
Even if that something is just a possibility.
Even if that possibility isn’t even a very likely one.
He’s still watching me from across the table, and after a moment he nods: once, then again. When he smiles, it doesn’t quite make it up to his eyes, but I can tell he’s trying. “Well,” he says, picking up his fork again. “Maybe one day.”
“Maybe one day.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “After you’ve learned to play the guitar.”
“And a few other things,” I say, thinking again of what Aunt Sofia told Leo that night so long ago, when he asked what my other word might be.
That,she said,is up to Alice.
For the first time in a long time I feel electric with the possibilities. And this time, when the question arrives, I’m ready for it.
“Like what?” Teddy asks, and I grin at him.
“I guess we’ll have to see.”
On the way out, Teddy leaves a neat stack of hundred-dollar bills on the table for our waitress.
“I did promise,” he says, his spirits clearly lifted by the prospect of seeing her face when she finds it. We linger in the vestibule, peering through the small window above the door, and watch her mouth fall open as she discovers the enormous tip.
He grins as we walk outside again. “You sure you don’t want to be a part of that?”
“I do,” I say, trying not to sound defensive. “Just not officially.”
“Sorry,” he says, relenting. “I know. You can do however much you want. Really. I’ll have a pipeline of money ready just for you, so you can hand it out whenever you feel like it. I promise.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I’ve always wanted a pipeline of money.”
He laughs. “I get that a lot these days.”
We’re still standing beneath the glow of lights from the diner, neither of us moving. Teddy’s apartment is in one direction and the soup kitchen is in the other.
“I should get going,” I say, glancing at my watch. “Will you be at school tomorrow, or are you still boycotting?”
“Nah, I’ll be there,” he says. “I figure I better finish up just in case I change my mind about this whole college thing at some point.”
I can tell he’s humoring me, but it makes me feel better anyway. “Maybe one day,” I say, taking a few steps in the opposite direction. But he doesn’t move.
I turn around and wave goodbye. Still nothing.
“I’ll walk with you,” he says, jogging to catch up with me. It’s nearly dark out now, with only a low scribble of orange left in the sky. If I don’t leave soon I’m going to be late for my shift, but I stand there for a second anyway.
“You don’t have to. Really.”
“It’s a nice night,” he says, already moving past me so that I have no choice but to follow him. The streets are still busy at this hour, filled with couples holding hands and children running ahead of their parents and groups of friends going out for the evening.
“I walk here by myself all the time, you know.”
