There’s more, of course. The constant ache in my shoulder and tenderness of the muscles in my back are proof of that. But I can’t get myself to tell her what Patrick did to me. Instead, I try to force a smile, and I make myself look up at her. “Alex and I looked up the cost of public transportation near Palo Alto, and it’s cheaper than the car insurance I was going to have to buy, so I guess at least there’s that.”
She gives me a sad smile, but nods. “They have a pretty good bus and train system there, from what I understand.”
“Yeah.”
She’s studying me with a gentle but knowing look, and I try for another smile, then take a small sip of my coffee.
“Have you thought about what kind of job you’d like?” she asks, and I frown and shake my head.
“I don’t know what...” I swallow hard and glance toward the stairs, wishing Alex was here to help me talk. Or something. “I really don’t know what I’d be any good at. And it’ll have to be something where I can make at least twenty-five bucks an hour.”
There’s defeat in my voice, and I know she hears it. Her expression changes to one I’ve seen from her before—that sort ofmotherly-advice-incomingexpression she always has when she talks to Alex about certain things.
“It feels pretty impossible, doesn’t it?” When I nod, she continues. “I won’t sugarcoat things. It’s not going to be easy.But, Nico, I’ve known you for a long time, and I’ve watched you grow up, andI honestly believe that you’ll figure it out. I know how hardworking you are, how determined. You’re smart and thoughtful. And organized.”
“And punctual!” Alex pipes in, jogging down the last of the stairs. His mom arches her eyebrows at him, but he shrugs and winks at me. “He is. Always on time.”
I roll my eyes and turn back to his mom. She’s smiling softly still, her head tilted ever so slightly to the right as she regards me. “I do have a suggestion that might help, if you’re interested.”
Alex slides into the chair right next to mine and starts piling up waffles and eggs on his plate. I ignore how good he smells—clean and fresh and with just a hint of that aftershave he uses—and I nod slowly to his mom.
Her smile grows, and she scoots her chair in a little. “Okay, so I have a friend in San Jose—do you know where that is?”
I try to picture the maps Alex and I looked at the other day when we were checking out the public transit stuff. “South of Palo Alto, I think?”
Alex’s mom nods with enthusiasm. “Yep! So my friend Vera lives there. I’ve known her for ages. We met through a professor of mine back when I was in college. She was here in Nebraska, setting up an exhibition at a small gallery in Omaha. It was the very first exhibition that featured any of my paintings. She and I kept in touch after, though she’s been on the West Coast for the last fifteen years or so. She runs a huge art collective, manages multiple galleries, puts on events all year round. And she’s always looking for good, reliable employees. She’s demanding but fair. I don’t know for sure, but I’d venture that she pays quite well.”
She glances at Alex, who’s now shoving a huge bite of eggs in his mouth, and he nods, chews quickly, and swallows. “Sounds perfect for you,” he says, nudging me with his elbow.
I frown. Did he already know about this? “I don’t have anyexperience working with art or art galleries or exhibitions,” I say quietly, but again, his mom just smiles, shaking her head lightly.
“Your job at the library right now—what is it that you do?” she asks.
“Um, I’ve mostly been working on the library’s annual fundraiser. Sorting through donated books, cataloging them. Inputting the details into a spreadsheet, assessing damage.” I pause, and Alex’s mom is nodding gently at me now. “Filing and organization.” She nods more, and her smile brightens. “I’ve also helped set up for some of the summer events the library runs, and I did some work on a new display for the children’s books section.”
“Nico, that is exactly the type of work experience I bet she’d be looking for,” she says. “I mean, I don’t know for sure whether she’s hiring right now, but even if she’s not, she’s got a huge network of artists and other professionals she works with, and I bet she’ll know someone.”
It’s hard to believe it might actually be possible, but Iwantto believe it. I glance at Alex, and he’s got this incredible smile on his face, his blue eyes lighting up with that same sort of excitement he has when he’s talking about astrophysics and stuff.
“Sounds like a good place to start, right?” he says, and I nod.
This sense of hope inside me is an odd feeling that I’m not entirely used to. But it’s immediately at war with another, not-so-nice feeling—something telling me there’s not a chance in the world for this to work out, but all the chance in the world for me to fail at it and let Alex down.
“If you want, I can give Vera a call,” Alex’s mom suggests.
I blink and look down for a few seconds, trying to get myself to fight against that not-so-nice feeling and agree. “Um...”
Alex’s hand settles gently on my upper back, and when I force myself to look up and over at him, he’s got the same encouraging, hopeful expression in his eyes.
“Maybe it’ll work out,” he says softly. There’s a flicker in his eyes of some other emotion, almost pleading. “You can’t know if you don’t give it a chance.”
He’s right. Of course.
His hand slides along my upper back and stops at my shoulder, giving me a light squeeze, and I reach up until my fingers find his. The corners of his lips twitch up into a fuller smile when I nod slightly, and that grin—his gorgeous, kind, heart-stopping grin—brightens up the whole room.
I can’t help but feel his excitement and just enough of his confidence that I nod again and turn back to look at his mom. “Okay, um, yeah. I would really appreciate that, Ms. Hayes.”
She pauses to glance from me to Alex and back, and then she nods and says, “I’ll give her a call later today.”
