“Which is how you know so much about the zodiac,” I say, more to myself than to him.
“I only experienced it through Lunar New Year parties and children’s books up until I was six, but that was so long ago I hardly remember. I taught myself the rest. I’m still learning.” Bennett’s expression is unreadable. “I became obsessed with things that were tangible, in my hands or in my mind.”
“Like data,” I say.
Bennett dips his head. “Numbers don’t lie to you; they don’t make fun of you. They’re reliable.” He laughs somberly. “A few years ago, I found my mom’s diaries.”
“And you read them?” I ask.
“I did,” he says, a flicker of guilt flashing across his face.
“I’d do the same,” I confess. “I have a theory that people write diaries so that their children discover and read them. It’s a way of documenting history and to be seen when time has wiped the memories of us away.”
Bennett relaxes. “I hope so. She wrote a lot about how important the Chinese zodiac was to her and how it helped her understand herself as a woman, as a wife, as a mother.”
“Well, I think that’s poetic. You learned about your mom through her own words. In the way that she would’ve wanted you to know her.”
Bennett nods. “What surprised me most was that she used the zodiac to learn more about herself. History informing the present. She wasn’t so strict about compatibility and who belongs with who.” He flashes me his crooked smile, and under the navy sky, it looks more pronounced. It nearly melts my heart. “Honestly, she and my dad were incompatible, but they had the happiest marriage. I always found it fascinating that they were incompatible on paper but still had the best relationship.”
“I see,” I say, looking down at my blanketed lap.
“It’s not like now I know everything,” he says. “But it was a starting point to learning more about who she was. And in a way, who I was. That’s why the article was so upsetting earlier. I’ve felt like a walking identity crisis for most of my life, and it was called out.”
The best I can do is muster up the courage to nod. It’s a weak attempt, but it’s better than nothing.
Bennett looks up at the moon. “You wanted to know where the idea for ZodiaCupid came from. My mother.”
My stomach twists into knots. Now is not the right time to tell him the truth. Exposing myself will have to wait.
“Sorry, I’m being a big bummer right now,” Bennett adds. “I don’t usually share this with people. Kind of a habit I picked up from my dad.”
“No, I’m glad you told me,” I say. All I want to do is make him feel better. What’s happening to me? Instead, I just grip my slushie tighter. “Thank you for sharing such an important part of your life with me. An important part of you.”
Bennett nods and looks down at his hands. “I watchedBigshortly after, and well, from then on, I begged my dad to take me to the amusement park every weekend so I could find that fortune-teller machine in real life.”
“Also, Tom Hanks.” I nudge him gently. “You can’t go wrong with any movie that has Tom Hanks in it.”
“He’s the, what is the term people use? G.O.A.T.?” he says with a hint of sarcasm.
“He’s a Goat?” I ask, trying to make him laugh. “When’s his birthday?”
“No, the Greatest of All Time,” he says, grinning.
“Oh, right, of course,” I agree. “He’s such a goat.”
I can sense Bennett watching me intently. Emotions stir inside me that I haven’t felt in a long time. I almost don’t recognize myself. Why do I want to hug him and not strangle him right now?
Ahead of us on the screen, Sandra Bullock runs into town to kiss the man she loves. A chill runs through me at the awareness of my proximity to Bennett.
Bennett adjusts in his seat and says, “Did you know that Thomas Edison was responsible for the first on-screen kiss in a movie?”
His fun fact comes out of nowhere, and I dissolve into laughter. His mood seems to lift.
“It was 1896,” he continues, “during a time when kissing publicly was scandalous. People went wild for it. It’s hard to calculate the percentages of how many chemicals are released when two people kiss, like oxytocin, serotonin, and dopamine, but—”
“Hey, Bennett,” I say, still smiling.
“Sorry, you’re trying to watch the movie,” he says, shifting his position.
