“Did you always know you wanted to be an events coordinator?” he asks, and I can’t tell if he’s being an ass or not. The look on his face says not, so I answer him honestly.
“It’s not exactly the kind of job you dream of doing when you’re a kid.”
Tilting his head, he says, “What did you want to be?”
“Jennifer Lopez.”
“Of course.”
“You?”
“Same, yeah. Jenny from the block.”
I can’t help but laugh, and after fighting it for a few seconds, Theo joins in. When we’re done, he grows serious. “Listen, Nora, I owe you an apology. I didn’t mean any of those awful things I said to you earlier. It was wrong of me to speak to you that way, and I am sorry.”
I stiffen slightly, but the wall I’ve been constructing since I met him crumbles a little. “I’m sorry too. I don’t know what came over me. I’m normally not a total harpy.”
He cringes, then shakes his head. “You are not a harpy. This is a very unusual situation we find ourselves in. I think we were both thrown off by it—not that it’s an excuse for how I acted.”
“Or how I acted.” I sigh. “Could we wipe the slate clean? In the name of making the best of a bad situation?”
“I’d like that very much.”
“Good. Me too.”
We go back to eating, but this time the silence isn’t marred by tension. It feels reflective and calm.
After a few minutes, Theo finishes and sits back. “I’ve been wondering how you know so much about plants.”
“My grandmother. We used to go for long walks in the forest to find herbs and mushrooms.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It was,” I tell him. “She isn’t able to go that far anymore though, so it’s been a few years since we’ve done it.”
“Does she have mobility issues?” he asks.
“Dementia,” I tell him. “It’s too easy to lose her now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, me too. It’s the worst, losing her in tiny increments.” Then, for no reason at all, I start talking about her. “She lives on the big island. The last several years, when I visit, she sends me home with the funniest things. One time, she sneaked a jar of pickled eggs into my suitcase.”
Theo chuckles. “That must have smelled nice.”
“Yeah, especially when the jar broke on the drive to the airport.” I laugh at the memory. “Liquid everywhere. Then there was the time she bought me a necklace with a marijuana leaf on it and insisted I wear it on the flight. Security triple-checked my bags and did an extremely thorough search of my person.” His smile is so encouraging, I keep talking. “Last year she gave me a Scooby-Doo lunch kit.”
“The Mystery Machine?” he asks.
“You’re familiar with it?”
“I may have had one when I was a child.”
I squint at him. “You were once a child?”
“Shocking, I know,” he says with a smirk.
“I’m getting an image of an eight-year-old you in a suit and tie, ordering all the other kids around.”
