Maybe todayisthe day, after all.
Chapter Seven
Nico
Something’supwithAlex.
He’s been jittery since we left home, and he barely ate lunch, even though he swears the pizza place right near our apartment has the best pizza in the world. He’s also been alternating between talking my ear off and completely silent, and right now, he’s walking just slightly faster than normal, which is a bit awkward considering he’s gripping my hand and having to almost pull me along next to him.
Ahead of us, a large, dark-stained wooden gate underneath a gray pagoda-style roof marks the entrance to the Japanese Friendship Garden. Besides Vera’s art gallery, it’s probably one of my favorite places in San Jose. The first year we lived here, the garden underwent a massive restoration and renovation to update and repair the ponds and bridges. I remember Vera telling me about how the park used to be and how happy she was that they finally did all the planned work. The garden fully reopened, better than new, just shortly after Alex moved down from Palo Alto to live with me in San Jose his second year of undergrad.
I slow and stop as we reach the entrance, and Alex stops half a step ahead of me. When he turns around to look at me, his eyes are bright and eager, and he’s grinning this huge, silly grin. I smileback and tug on his hand lightly. “Where’s my kiss?”
I didn’t think it was possible, but his smile lights up even more. He closes the distance between us and lowers his mouth to mine for a short, sweet kiss. It’s silly, but it’s become a bit of a thing—for us to kiss under the entrance here. We did it the first time we came, although I can’t really remember exactly why, and now, we do it every time right when we enter.
“I didn’t forget,” he says, smiling sheepishly. He kisses me again, as though to prove his point, and then he tips his head toward the garden. “I’m just a little distracted because I saw the cherry blossoms.”
“They’re still blooming? This late in the season?” I glance past him into the park, and it’s like he said. Several of the cherry blossom trees are still in full bloom, even though we’re well into early May.
He squeezes my hand gently, and together, we start walking again. The rough cobblestone path leads us to the edge of a large pond, and we pause there, too, his arm slipping around my waist. Where the water meets the edge, a small group of colorful koi fish congregate, swimming close to the surface, and then farther off in the pond, a couple of geese float along, basking in the sunlight.
It’s so peaceful, and for a second, I lean into Alex and close my eyes, and I just let myself feel the freshness in the air. It’s this clean, crisp feeling, everything alive and growing around us, serene and calm. The sweet fragrance of the cherry blossoms, the cool breeze, the quiet sounds of leaves fluttering and birds chirping.
“I needed this,” I say softly, and Alex’s arm tightens around my waist. “The whole day, I mean. We haven’t spent a day together like this in a while. Thank you for staying home with me.”
Our lives have gotten so busy, especially with all the hours I’m putting in for my apprenticeship, and even when I do have days off or half days off, they rarely coincide with his.
“We’re going to be busy like this for a while, I think,” he says, as though he’s reading my mind. “So we have to take what we can, right?”
I nod and open my eyes partway. The geese are still floating in about the middle of the pond, and the koi have started to move on, the water rippling here and there as bright white and orange shapes weave about below the surface.
I smile and tilt my head back. Alex isn’t watching the geese or the koi; he’s looking at me, his eyes shining and happy. God, I love this.
“I love you,” I whisper, letting my hand come to rest on his stomach.
He purses his lips to rein in his smile, and then his eyes dart off across the garden to the other side of the pond for just a second. “Let’s walk?” he asks quietly.
I narrow my eyes at his redirect but then nod, and his cheeks turn bright red. He quickly looks away again, and together, we start walking at a leisurely pace along the edge of the pond, his arm still around my waist.
He guides us down the path until it curves back around on the far side of the pond, where the ground is littered with cherry blossom petals. The slight breeze that picks up plucks a few more from the trees, and they flutter around us, light and airy, until they come to rest on the path. His steps stutter then, and he pauses and tightens his arm around me. His eyes are focused ahead, where there’s a little red bridge that rises up to cross over a portion of the pond.
I follow his gaze and smile, pulling out my phone. “Here, your mom wouldlovethis picture,” I say, and then there’s a twinge in my chest as I add, “And maybe I can send it to my mom, too.”
He sucks in a breath and nods, and then he holds me even closer as I lift the phone up in front of us to take a selfie. He’s grinning,his huge smile and bright blue eyes complemented by the vibrance of the cherry blossom tree in the background. I smile just as wide as I capture one picture, and then he turns and kisses my cheek as I take another.
“Oh yeah, you should send them that one,” he mumbles against my cheek, and I fake-scoff, then laugh and shove him away.
Both of his arms wrap around my waist from behind, and he bends down to kiss my neck. “Here, take this one too,” he says. I hesitate for only a second before I lift the phone up again. On the screen, I see him—I see us. He tilts his head a tiny bit to rest against mine, and he smiles that same brilliant, bright smile.
“You’re gorgeous,” I breathe.
He shakes his head a little and murmurs, “Take the picture.”
“’Kay, yeah.”
We both smile, and I snap the photo. Then he does the same thing he did with our first pose, kissing my cheek, and I snap that one, too. I lower the phone and look down at it, scrolling through the pictures. They’re perfect, each and every one of them. He’s happy, and, fuck, evenIlook happy. I close the camera app and start to open up my messaging app to send the photos to his mom (andmaybeto my mom, too), but he stops me, his hand covering mine.
“Wait, one more thing first before you send them,” he says, though his voice seems to waver. “Come on.”
