Hailey, still flushed, forces a smile. “He sure is.” She watches the waitress walk away, waiting until she’s well out of earshot before saying to me, “Can I …” Clearing her throat, she shakes her head then picks up her fork and pokes at her chicken. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course. Take as much time as you need.”
She gives me another of those closed-lip smiles. “Thank you.” Then she meets my eyes, her face sincere. “Seriously, Jason. Even if …” She waves a hand, dismissing the possibility of her rejection of my proposal. “Well, just, regardless. I really appreciate all you’ve done for me this week. You’ve made what would’ve been a world-ending catastrophe something survivable. And no matter what else may or may not happen, I really, really appreciate it.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something dismissive like, “Of course,” or “No problem,” or “Don’t worry about it.” But it’s clear from her delivery that Hailey doesn’t want her feelings about this brushed aside. “You’re welcome. I’m happy to help. I hope you realize that.”
This time her smile, though still small, seems more genuine. “Yeah, just … thank you.” Her voice catches, and she blinks rapidly like she’s about to cry.
“I really enjoyed listening to you play today,” I tell her, wanting to change the subject. She asked for time to think.Pressing the issue isn’t respecting that request, even though I’d really like to have an answer tonight. I can give her time, though. Plus, if she’s on the verge of tears, that won’t make for an enjoyable dinner for her. We can talk about something else for a little while.
Taking a bite of her chicken, she smiles at me, chewing and swallowing before she answers. “Oh, yeah? Thank you. Was there anything in particular you really liked?”
Shrugging, I cut a bite off my steak. “All of it, really. But the part where the little kids came up and started dancing was probably the cutest. Watching you interact with them, bending closer and encouraging them to get into it, took it up several levels. I bet those kids’ll be talking about that for days.”
She’s full-on grinning now, and I love seeing her this happy. “It’s fun when things like that happen. That’s one of the things that I like about busking. Sometimes you get jerks who complain that you’re just begging, but mostly it’s people who enjoy the music. You’re right, though, that the kids make it the most fun.” She shrugs, philosophically, chewing another bite, her gaze going a little abstract. “It’s also fun to mix it up, play different styles. It’s taken me a little while to get over the ingrained snobbery that often comes along with music school. Even before that, really. I had a teacher in high school who’d scoff at anything popular that featured a violin.”
“Uhh … what? Why?”
She leans closer. “In the art music world, popular equals bad.”
I can’t help laughing. “That’s ridiculous.”
Shrugging, she grins too. “I know. But that’s genuinely the attitude. People like it when I play things they recognize, though. I make more money doing that. Movie themes are also fun, but I wasn’t feeling that vibe today. Sometimes I’ll go by the lakeand play things fromPirates of The Caribbean. Sea shanties too. People have fun with those.”
“That sounds great. You could definitely do that in Seattle. Or well, the greater Puget Sound area. There’s a lot of maritime stuff over there. It’d be a hit.”
Her smile dims a little, and I cringe. “Shit. Sorry. I’m not trying to be pushy. I just was thinking …”
“No, it’s fine.” She waves away my apology. “I appreciate that you’re actually thinking about how I’d be able to fit in there.”
She stabs a piece of broccoli with her fork and holds it up, seeming to consider it before putting it in her mouth. “I used to fantasize about leaving. About going somewhere else. But I haven’t really tried very hard. I went to Appleton. I live in Madison. I’ve taken auditions around the Midwest—Chicagoland, Milwaukee, Minneapolis, and St. Paul, plus a few other places a little farther afield. But I’ve never really seriously tried to go somewhere totally different.” She squints, eats the broccoli, and looks down at her plate, pushing things around as she chews. “I’m not even sure what it’s like to live somewhere else. I’ve barely even traveled. My parents …”
I grunt. “Yeah. It can be a big change. When I first went to Ontario at seventeen, it was a big change. It was hard, at first. I didn’t know anyone, and I was staying with strangers.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, shit. I didn’t even think about that. I guess I figured they just put you guys in dorms or something.”
Shaking my head, I cut my steak into bite-sized pieces as I talk. “Nope. I lived with a host family. They were nice enough, but it wasn’t the same as living at home with my parents.”
It’s her turn to grunt, and I’m guessing she wouldn’t have minded living with someone other than her parents. Especially if they were nice and paid attention to her. “I know it’s not the same, but I stayed with one of my friends for a while in high school. Not officially, of course. But I spent the night at herhouse more than at home.” She wrinkles her nose. “Her parents got a little tired of me being there all the time, though. So that didn’t last as long as I would’ve liked.”
“I’m sorry, Hailey,” I say quietly. “That sucks.”
Shaking her head, she takes a sip of her water. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault or your problem.” She holds my gaze. “You’re not responsible for me, Jason. I’m an adult.”
I narrow my eyes at her, repeating that sentiment. It’s going to be like that, is it? “I know you’re an adult, Hailey. And I’m not trying to parent you. But most twenty-five-year-olds—at least the ones I know—can ask their parents for help if they’re struggling to make rent and then their car dies.”
“I can ask my parents for help, too,” she mutters, and I raise an eyebrow.
“Uh-huh. Sure. It definitely seems like that’s something you want to do. And how much help do you think they’ll be willing to give you?”
Resting her chin on her hand, she stares off into the distance and sucks in a deep breath. “I mean, I think they’d probably help some.” She spears me with another look. “Icouldgo live at home again.”
“Could you?”
She nods.
“Will you?”
