Cary was holding his mug to his mouth, but he wasn’t drinking. “You weren’t invested before?”
Shiloh shrugged again. “Eh. I felt like a short-timer before. You know, like I was doing my time, clocking in and out...”
“Clocking in and out of humanity.”
“Exactly,” she said. “But then I had kids, and now I worry a lot more abouteverything.”
He was still smiling, a little. “I remember you already worrying a lot about everything...”
“Really? In high school?”
“Yeah,” he said. “You made me join Amnesty International.”
“Mikeymade you join Amnesty International.”
“Mikey never made me do anything.” Cary pointed at her. “You told me that we had to write letters to the president of Chile because wecould. That ifyouwere ever disappeared by the government, you’d like somebody, somewhere, to do what they were able to. Even if it was just write a letter.”
“I don’t think those letters did any good,” Shiloh said.
He shook his head. “Almost assuredly not.”
“I don’t know...” she said. “Having kids rewrites your programming. You can’t really remember what the world looked like to you before you had them.” Her voice dropped an octave. “That’s probably some biological imperative to make sure you don’t leave them by the side of the road.”
One of Cary’s cheeks dimpled. “I’m not sure that’s an endorsement of parenthood...”
Shiloh laughed. “Me neither. Somebody should tell you beforehand that it’s more like being mind-captured than falling in love—they take over your whole head, and that’s that. You don’t ever want anything as much as you want to make them happy.”
“It sounds like you’re doing a good job, Shiloh.”
“Ha!” she said. “I thought I’d introduced you to Gus...”
Cary held his head at an angle. He raised his shoulders, sympathetic. “I think ‘making your kids happy’ is more of a journey than a binary proposition.”
“Like America’s journey toward justice.”
He laughed. “Yeah. Actually.”
She smiled down at her cup.
“I told my mom I’d come right back,” Cary said softly. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Shiloh looked up, shifting her weight away from the counter. “Well. Thanks for coming by. This was...” The tears again. “This was really nice.”
“I could...” Cary was looking at her with his brows drawn low. Like he was puzzling something out. “We could do more of this, later.”
Shiloh pulled her lips down at the ends, surprised. “Do you want to?” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “I mean. I’d love that. I’d love to.”
“Yeah?”
Her eyes were open. “Yes.Cary. Come back later?”
“Okay.” He smiled. “I will.”
“The kids go to bed at eight thirty. You can come before then, but it’s a whole thing.”
“I’ll come after.” He looked down at his coffee. “I’m going to be up all night anyway thanks to this coffee.”
“Oh my god.” Shiloh took his cup away. “Me too. I can’t have caffeine after noon.”
