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She stops at a curve and presses her hands against the metal railings. Her gaze is on the water, but she's a million miles away.
"We can talk about it," I say.
She shakes her head and digs her hands into the railing. "No, we should probably pick up something to use." She motions to the shopping center a few blocks away.
"I can do it for you."
"No, I have to do it. Buy a box of cookies and only eat one." She turns her gaze to me, studying me.
She's watching for a sign I can't handle this.
"Let's do it."
I offer my hand. She nods, wiping her palms on her dress and wrapping her fingers around mine. She squeezes tight.
"You can do this," I say.
She nods. "Let's not talk about it too much."
I let her take the lead. We change our direction and move towards the store. It's a natural foods store, the kind of yippie place Samantha and her future Tesla-owning husband would love.
The automatic doors slide open and we step inside. Everything in the store is white and bright and the aisles are cramped. Alyssa wanders around the aisles, squeezing my hand tighter and tighter.
She stares at a shelf of chips like she doesn't understand it.
"Ally..."
"I'm fine." She turns quickly, moving to the next aisle. There's still a look of dread on her face. Like she's about to jump off a bridge.
"You sure?"
"The constant questions don't help."
She panicked last time. It was her thoughts tricking her and telling her she's a failure. I can't let her go down that road. Sure, I can't shrink myself and jump into her brain, but I can keep her attention here.
"You never told me which of your high school parts was your favorite," I say.
"You're so obvious."
"Still, not many high school students get to play two Shakespearean heroines."
She scans the next aisle, stopping at a row of cookies. "Abridged Hamlet cuts out all of Ophelia's best lines."
"Oh yeah?"
She turns her eyes towards me, shaking her head like I'm ridiculous. But she smiles. "There's this great exchange between her and Hamlet where he asks if he can lay in her lap and she says no. But he corrects himself--he means his head upon her lap."
"Yeah?"
"Without the oral sex jokes she's just Hamlet's crazy girlfriend. Kills herself for no reason." Her attention turns back to the shelf. She picks up a box of sugar cookies and hugs it to her chest. "Of course, Juliet isn't really any better. She also kills herself over her boyfriend."
"So it's The Crucible then?"
She nods. "Abigail is a badass bitch. She starts all kinds of shit." She laughs and her eyes find mine. "Thanks."
"No, thank you for the free British literature lesson."
"The Crucible is American."
