“Not exactly.” Well, there goes any chance of him having known her, thankfully.
Palming my apple, I run Hanry through the stories of Mom, Grandma, and the generations of mostly unwed Spüks who came before them. “Anyway,” I say in closing, “the eccentricity has to max out at some point. It’s my fate to land our family legacy safely on greener pastures. What runs in your family?”
“We like bossy women.” He says it too casually for me to ignore.
“Are you calling me bossy? Hey, don’t stop holding this ladder while I’m on it.”
Hanry raises his eyebrows but doesn’t answer my rhetorical question. Wise move.
“What’s your weak point?” I ask, climbing down a few rungs until we’re at the same level. “Seeing as you’ve picked up on my worst quality without trouble.”
“Have you seenHowl’s Moving Castle?”
I roll my eyes. “Duh.”
“Okay, so the wizard Howl,” Hanry says. “He’s described as a slither-outer-er, right? I think I do that more than I should. Try to get out of things when I feel they’re pinching at me.”
Chilled, I rub the goose bumps down on my arms. I relate to what he’s saying more than I’d like, to the point that I can feel it beneath my skin. “I don’t think that’s a weakness.”
“You don’t?”
“Nope. It’s survival. Keeping yourself from getting nailed down is a good default move, so you don’t get trapped living a life you hate.”
“Wow. I guess that’s it.” Hanry moves his hand near mine on the ladder. “Is that spoken from experience?”
“Kind of,” I admit. It’s why I clawed my way into NYU and that internship at EFG. It’s why I’m so desperate to get out of Salem, present moment aside. If I go down the paths Grandma and Mom went down before me, I might take on the worst parts of them too, and become neglectful and lonely and unpredictable in all the worst ways.
“You’re not allowed to slither out on me,” I say. “If we have a second date and you ghost me, I’ll send Mandy after you. She’s a manic pixie, you know. Very sharp teeth.”
“Is that your new assistant? Congratulations.”
“Yes, and she has arms.”
“A pair of congratulations, then.”
“Can I ask you something?” I lean back on the ladder, in spite of it digging into my back, trying not to look like what I’m about to say matters. “You’re human, right? Like wholly, definitely, every moon of the month and with every drop of blood, human?”
Hanry smiles. It’s a knowing look that also seems like it has secrets behind it. “Yeah.”
“You promise?”
“Absolutely promise,” he says.
“Don’t change your answer on me,” I say, which makes him laugh but not elaborate. Tempted as I am to poke at it, we’ve only known each other a little while. And we won’t stay in each other’s lives for much longer, anyway. So I let it go.
Once we’ve collected enough apples that even Hanry begins looking worn-out, or at least bored, we climb to the top of the hill behind the property. Up there, illuminated by a waxing and offensively poetic moon, Hanry has laid out a picnic blanket and cheese boards with crackers, grapes, and—of course—freshly baked cider doughnuts. But that’s not what’s so special.
My name is carved into one of the cheese boards. Not Samantha, either.Sabby.
“You made this?” I marvel, picking up the wooden plank and investigating its smooth surface. It feels… sanded. This is awesome. I now have a cool kitchen tool. Or a makeshift weapon. You never know when these things might come in handy.
“Woodworking’s a pretty serious hobby of mine,” says Hanry. He has a way of tucking in his chin, hiding behind his stubble like he’s embarrassed, that I find really appealing. “Sometimes I use found objects too. You like it?”
Yeah. I do. In fact, it’s making me teary-eyed.
“Thank you,” I say to Hanry’s slightly blurred shoulders. “I’ll have to host some fancy cheese parties now.”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to an invitation.”
