“You meant to sayI don’t know, but you’re physically incapable of doing so.”
“I can’t hear you.” He rides in circles.
“Did you know that if a bluebird lands on your windowsill, it means someone you miss is thinking about you?”
“Yes.”
“A bald-faced lie. I just made that up.”
He laughs. “Didyouknow you’re in a YouTube video somebody from town posted? It’s an eight-hour loop of one of the creeks. One of those nature videos people like listening to while sleeping or studying. Every twelve minutes, you flash by, walking across a bridge. Must’ve been from a while ago, because you had long brown hair.”
“I had no idea. When did you find this?”
“Last year, probably. I’d been so careful to not google you, didn’t want to know if you were happier without me. But I like listening to those videos, sometimes, to relax, and when I saw one called ‘Moonville, Ohio’ I couldn’t resist. It’d been so long since I’d seen my home. Turned it on and after a couple hours, happened to glance at the screen and there you were. It was like being punched by the universe.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Then, first day I’m back in Moonville, you appear right in front of me.” He thumps his chest. “KO’d.”
“Me, too. I never looked you up online, and I never tried any dating apps, either, just in case you’d pop up. I’m too sensitive. I didn’t want to see you out there living the ladies’ man life.”
“Ha! Ladies’ man, my ass. I spend my Saturday nights building LEGO sets with a four-year-old. Oh, look! Here we are.”
We taper to a halt at the foot of a broad blue lake, visible through a gap in the leaves. It flows endlessly, hundreds of thousands of love-in-a-mist flowers raising their faces to wide-open sky, the distant ring of trees a thick, dark smudge.
I abandon my bike with a squeal, rushing the field. “It’sgorgeous!”
Alex grins. “I hoped you’d like it.”
“How’d youfindthis place?” Sky like this is in short supplyin town; everywhere you look up, you see leaves. “Are we allowed to be here? It’s probably private property.”
“This land belongs to a guy I did a job for. I’ve received all the proper permissions, no worries.” He reaches for my hand. “There’s supposed to be a strawberry patch somewhere, and a water pump to wash them with.”
We wander through the meadow. “What sort of job?”
“I reroofed a barn.” He points to a red blob nestled in a valley, the property a series of gentle swells.
I shade my eyes to see the roof clearly. “Is that a W?”
“Yeah, for Weyman. That’s his last name. I like interesting projects like that, where I get to make designs. More of a challenge.”
“Aren’t you scared you’ll fall off?”
“Nah. It was intimidating when I first got into it, but the height doesn’t faze me as much as structural integrity. Sometimes I work on roofs that are badly damaged, so I have to be super careful.”
I imagine him plummeting through the roof of an ancient house, landing on somebody’s kitchen table. A woman who lives there licks her lips and says:Is this feast all for me?“Oh my lord.”
“I don’t mind those situations, because I get to come in and make them safe. I get to bring stability, eliminate the danger so that no one gets hurt.”
“I hope you wear protective gear. Helmet, kneepads, gloves, all that.”
He tousles my hair. “Absolutely. Safety goggles, too. My hard hat is full ofMickey Mouse Clubhousestickers, to make it fashion.”
We locate the strawberry patch, where we brush bugs off fat,bright red berries then rinse them under a water pump. Alex spreads his jacket in the meadow. We flop down, strawberries cradled in my pinafore. As we eat, he watches the clouds and I watch his face, evening sunlight gilding the shape of his nose, lips, shoulders. The weave of his shirt is thinner where it strains across the back, tiny holes from constant motion. I touch it, warmth seeping into my fingertips.
Alex turns his head, looks down at me. Considers for a moment, before gently pushing me down into the grass.
Drops a long, slow kiss to my mouth.
