Adam checks his watch. “Shit, you’re right. I should probably drive you back to work soon. Are you working tomorrow? Why don’t you stop by Gramps’s afterward?”
I blink. That doesn’t feel like enough time to prepare, but could someone like me really prepare for anything related to acute socializing? “Oh sure. Tomorrow. After work. That sounds perfect.”
We talk a bit more as we finish up our plates and wait for the check, with Adam driving the conversation like in the car. Which I appreciate this time. It’s not that I don’t want to talk with him anymore…it’s that I’m…well, completely overwhelmed.
I went out in public. To the damncountry club. Two days ago, if anyone had asked me, “What’s the one place The Girl Who Lied mustn’t ever go, ever,” I honestly would have said Gilded Cranberry, maybe tied with accompanying Amá Sonya to one of her HOA meetings. Country clubs—and HOAs, for that matter—think they’re some kind of hallmarks of civilization. I am a wild witch who speaks with crows. I always imagined I would get the most verbal abuse in a place like that, even if it were disguised inpolite, Southern hospitality, which is often worse than anything direct, because I never know that people are being mean to me until well after the fact.
But nothing like that happened at all. Because of Adam.
I stare at him hard as he chuckles with the server, noting that the freckles on his left cheek look a little bit like they’re in the shape of a crescent moon.
What must it be like, to be so admired and likable that people even obey your unannounced rule ofDon’t be mean to this weird woman I’m with? Can I speak with Carolina wrens? Yes. Can I even begin to imagine the kind of power Adam wields? Not in a universe’s lifetime.
After lunch, when we reach my work, I can’t help myself. I turn toward him, put a hand on his forearm, and say, “Thank you for being nice to me today.”
He slides his hand down my arm, over my wrist, until he’s cupping my palm, my fingers resting gently against his skin. The sensation is alarming in a way I find intriguing. I decide that’s probably a good sign to let go. He’s watching me so closely, his eyes as sharp and glittery as seaside rocks, and I don’t know what else to say, so I end with this fine farewell: “Um. Bye.”
He doesn’t leave until I’m safely in the building, and it’s sincerely disgusting how much I like it.
11
@tryingsomethingnew:Hey salt girl. You still up?
@salt&seagirl:Yeah? What’s up? You want to send me some more whale songs so that I can cry or something?
@tryingsomethingnew:Did the whale’s song really make you cry?
@salt&seagirl:Yeah. I was at work so I couldn’t bawl or anything.
@tryingsomethingnew:Ngl, it made me tear up too.
@salt&seagirl:So you’re not one of those tough guys, then?
@tryingsomethingnew:I’m not tough at all. I’m very soft and gooey, in fact.
@salt&seagirl:like a half-baked cinnamon roll?
@tryingsomethingnew:With extra icing, even.
@tryingsomethingnew:If you were a dessert, what would you be?
@salt&seagirl:Hmm. Hmm. Let me think…. A tomato pie!
@tryingsomethingnew:Tomato pie is definitely not dessert haha.
@salt&seagirl:Exactly. People kind of find me surprising, or weird, and no one chooses me for dessert
@tryingsomethingnew:I’ve kind of had the opposite problem, to be honest. Too many folks trying to choose me.
@salt&seagirl:Too many hands taking the poor cinnamon rolls.
@tryingsomethingnew:Exactly. And now I feel kind of empty. Like I need to whip up some new dough and make myself all over again.
@salt&seagirl:So now you’re…drumroll…trying something new?
@tryingsomethingnew:Now I’m trying something new
The next morning, I awakento birdsong. I keep my eyes closed as I identify the sources: Carolina wrens. Cardinals. A distant American bluebird, chirping to nothing more than the joyful return of light. It’s strange to think about sometimes, how we humans, and most other animals, must sleep regularly. We becomevulnerable by necessity. We visit the World of Dreams, which Nadia says is a gateway to all the other worlds that exist.
