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While my mom kept this huge secret from me and my sister for basically a year, Kristine was open with Henry from the start. It seems like he spent a lot of time going back and forth between Chicago and New York, so he got to see their love grow. Something in my chest feels funny about having missed out on that.
“We have to fix this,” I say, and he nods, draining his mug. My mind is churning through what we could do. Without the full context of what’s really going on between them, all I can focus on are the facts we have.
“Mom’s love languages are acts of service and gifts,” I explain, trying to see if that will get us anywhere.
A memory hits me. The sound of Velcro ripping and being replaced. Felt material under my fingers. Baruch ata Adonai…
“Where did you go?” Henry asks, blinking at me.
I look up at him, breezing past the genuine curiosity on his face, like he’s studying me with great care.
“When Hannah and I were little, we had our own wall-hanging menorah. It was silver and crinkly, with felt candles and detachable fabric flames so we could light it ourselves.”
“Without it being a fire hazard,” Henry says, finishing my thought. “I remember that. It was in the hallway between your rooms, right?”
“We always fought about who got to have custody over it, so that was the compromise. Dad measured the wall so it was exactly equidistant.”
“Sounds like David,” Henry says, and I push down the overwhelming feeling of our shared history.
“Maybe there’s something along those lines we could find,” I reply so I don’t do something stupid like reach out and touch the bit of scruff that formed on his jaw in the last few hours. “As a gesture. We could even give it to Kristine to give to Mom, so it comes from her.”
“I like the way your mind works, Gold.” He’s staring at me intensely, and even with five feet of space between us, I feel his gaze running over me like one of his strong fingers along my spine.
“Why don’t you see if there’s a toy store or something in town and find out when it opens?” I suggest. “I’m gonna go for a run.”
“You sure go on a lot of runs,” he comments. There’s no judgment behind it. Just an observation.
“Yeah, well…” I trail off, not sure what to say to that.
I have too much going on in my brain.
If I stay in this room whispering with you any longer, I’m going to give in and kiss you.
“Thanks for the coffee,” I say finally, taking one more sip. I place the mug in the sink, and this time, there’s no mistaking the way his fingers graze mine on my way out.
* * *
Once I’m back from my run, everyone is awake. Henry informs me that my mom went for her own walk, and Kristine didn’t seem pleased, opting to head to the slopes early. He found a few stores, but they don’t open until ten, so we take our time, sitting quietly around the lodge.
Henry is all right angles, seated upright on the sofa we fell asleep on, perpendicular to Hannah, who’s sprawled out on the love seat. He’s reading some nonfiction book that I want to say is about the economy, and she has her earbuds in, probably absorbed in the latest episode of her new favorite murder podcast, which dropped this morning. I pick up my sister’s legs and sit down next to her, even though there’s more space on Henry’s couch. I don’t trust myself there.
When my phone reads 9:45, I leap up. “Let’s go!” I say a little too enthusiastically.
Henry closes his book and goes to grab his keys.
“Come with us?” I ask my sister, jiggling her knee to get her attention. The idea of being back in the CR-V, sitting shotgun, the place where I felt like I got to know him again, shared secrets with him, where it felt real on a whole other level, is too risky a task for our newly minted status as friends.
My sister briefly takes out an earbud so I can repeat the question, but crinkles up her nose and puts her podcast back on.
“Shall we?” Henry asks, holding out my coat for me.
“It doesn’t have to be weird,” he insists once we’re outside. “I heard what you said. We can be friends for now. Believe it or not, I have some modicum of control over myself.”
But I don’t, I think, opening the passenger-side door.
Henry places his hand on the headrest behind my seat as he backs out of the parking spot in an annoyingly thrilling display of competency porn, and something snaps in me.
Maybe getting my friend back is the key to making whatever is happening between us work down the line.
