We emerged from the library into the early evening, with the sun still high and the sky still blue. In the yard, tourists took pictures on the library steps while students lay beneath tall trees. We passed through an arch in one of the walls surrounding the school and reentered the bustling square. Our arms swung gently between us, our hands occasionally grazing as we crossed one final street onto the embankment with a boathouse and paths in either direction. We walked to the right, past long reeds edging the banks and geese waddling about.
A small pedestrian bridge arched over the Charles, and we climbed to the middle, looking out. Long banks edged the water, lush with greenery, and colorful domes rose against the skyline. Noah leaned against the wide stone rail. “My dad used to take us here to see the regatta each fall. He rowed for Harvard.”
“So you’re a legacy?”
His mouth turned up humorlessly. “Yeah.”
“I don’t suppose he expects you to row, too?”
This time some wryness permeated his expression. “Nailed it.”
“Do you want to?”
He glanced back at the water, at the next bridge painted against the sky. “I want him to be proud of me. And he loved rowing. He loves the regatta. He’s always so happy when we come here.”
We were silent. I didn’t know how to comfort someone about their difficult paternal relationship. But maybe the point wasn’t for me to comfort him; maybe the point was simply for me to listen.
“I think he tried really hard to fit in,” Noah said. “Maybe I do, too. And I think he does want me to be happy, theoretically. But he thinks this will make me happy in the long run—the college, the company, everything.”
“And do you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
For several minutes, we leaned against the railing in silence, watching the sailboats and rowboats moving along the river. “I had an idea,” I finally said. “I looked up the Arboretum after the rabbi mentioned it. Why don’t we check it out?”
He looked wary. “Abigail...”
“What? You like plants. There are plants there. I like plants, too! It’ll be great.”
He shook his head but couldn’t contain a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But also convincing? It’s supposed to bereallypretty.”
“But also convincing.”
We caught a Lyft across the river and down through Boston, passing large, stately houses and circling a giant pond before pulling up to the Arboretum. In the most basic of terms, it was a park—but unlike any city park I’d visited before. It covered hundreds of acres, and was filled with meandering paths and endless, giant trees and shrubbery.
We meandered first to terraced gardens, where vines climbed up trellises, then followed signs pointing along to a bonsai garden. “Pretty sure these aren’t bonsai,” I said as we passed yet another sign leading us to a row of evergreens.
“It’s supposed to be one of the best collections in the US,” Noah said. “We’ll probably notice it.”
“Are you an expert on bonsai, too?”
He laughed. His enthusiasm was endearing, the way he admired the plants the way I did Ellie Mae. “No, but it’s impossible not to think they’re cool. Here!”
We’d reached a hexagonal shade house. The walls opened to the elements, and a walkway ran around the interior. We walked,counterclockwise, peering close to read the signs and admire the miniature trees. “This one is a Hinoki cypress,” I said. “Over two hundred years old.”
Noah leaned a little closer to see it, and a soft voice piped out “Please KEEP BACKfrom the trees.”
He jumped back and looked at me guiltily, as though he’d hoped I hadn’t seen him leap. I started giggling. “So much for a bonsai heist.”
Next, we walked through the rest of the park, wandering up hills and past massive trees. At the farthest end from where we’d entered lay the highest point of the park, a gentle hill with a view of the Boston skyline. Noah and I dropped down on a plank of stone. To our left, a man took pictures of a woman as she posed; to our right, two men played with a dog.
“You could work here,” I said. “Harvard runs it. You could take classes here.”
He nodded. Obviously this wasn’t news to him, but I thought maybe he’d actually begun to consider it as an option.
The park closed with the setting sun, and by then, we’d worked up an appetite. We ate at a Cuban place recommended earlier by our driver. It was ten by the time we arrived back at our Airbnb. Late enough to be a reasonable hour for bed.
