Ellie’s hand remained there, palm up.
Patient.
I took it.
Her fingers closed around mine, warm and firm, and she guided me over a warped board.
Then she did not let go.
Neither did I.
We walked to the end of the pier holding hands as if it were an ordinary thing.
For Ellie, maybe it was.
For me, ordinary had started to feel like the most extravagant thing in the world.
She sat with her legs hanging over the edge and patted the board beside her.
“I bring all my mysterious students to unsafe infrastructure.”
“Is that part of the premium package?”
“It’s why the private lessons cost so much.”
I sat beside her, arranging the dress around my legs.
The music from the beach softened behind us. Waves moved beneath the pier. A pelican skimmed the surface with the prehistoric confidence of a creature that knew it had survived several mass extinctions.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
It did not feel awkward.
That surprised me more than anything.
Most silence in my life was waiting to be filled. By an answer, a song, a joke, a publicist, a producer, a crowd.
This one simply existed.
Ellie nudged my knee with hers.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask.”
“Are you happy?”
I looked at her.
“With the pie?”
“With your life.”
“That’s a large question for someone who threatened me with fish yesterday.”
“I contain multitudes.”
“I’ve noticed.”
