The cart was run by a man who looked like he’d been slinging franks there for thirty years. He saw Tessa coming, and his whole face changed.
“Tessa Thorne. Where have you been?”
“Henry. Hi. How’s your mother?”
“She’s good. Volunteers at the library and brings home too many books. It drives my dad crazy.”
“She always was busy. Dora?”
“Third year of med school. Surgery rotation. She loves it.”
Henry handed them their dogs and pointed his tongs at Gabriel. “He a boyfriend?”
“No.” Tessa hesitated. “We dated in high school. Now we’re... figuring it out.”
Henry studied Gabriel for a beat. “So you messed it up the first time.”
“I did.”
“Well, don’t do that twice. This one’s the real thing. She taught my Dora hopscotch when Dora was eight and I had to keep her with me Saturdays. Dora still talks about her and how that was her favorite summer.”
Gabriel paid. Henry winked at Tessa as they walked away.
They found a bench near the chess tables, the only open spot, and sat down close enough that moving apart would have taken effort.
“He likes you.”
She smiled. “Well, I’m likeable.”
“I’ve noticed.”
The wind kept pushing a strand of hair across her face, and she kept tucking it behind her ear, and he watched her do it twice before he made himself turn toward the chess players.
“This is absurd,” she said after a while.
“What is?”
“This. Us. Eating hot dogs in Union Square.” She paused. “We were kids the last time I sat on a bench with you. Thank God I’m not that young anymore. I wouldn’t want to go through any of that again.”
“Any of it?”
“None of it. The waiting. The wondering. The notes folded into squares and slipped into lockers. The ridiculousness of letting your mother decide who I was.”
“My mother said a lot of stupid things to you.”
“She did.”
“I’m sorry for that. I should’ve said it sooner.”
“You can say it now.”
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded. They sat. The chess players slapped their clocks.
“Why did we let it end?” she asked.
“Because we were eighteen. Because we believed the practical thing was the safe thing. Because I was terrified of getting it wrong, and ending it felt easier than fighting.”
