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“You can’t commit to it? It’s in a couple of months. You’ll be around.”
Won’t you? You said you’re never leaving me.
“I just think it’s best if you find someone else. It’s not really my forte. You understand.”
“Are you trying your Jedi shit with me?”
He smiles. “Do or do not. There is no try.”
I stare at him expectantly.
“It’s a joke, darlin’. Now let’s hope the hotel has valet because I don’t want to park this thing on these streets.”
I decide to drop it, bring it up some other time. Maybe he’s just feeling strangely shy.
We get to the hotel and it’s just as awesome as I thought it would be, totally done up in the Vertigo theme, including the poster art for the movie and the film playing on TVs all across the lobby. Hitchcock would be proud.
Our room is nice, albeit small, and when I open the window to the street below I feel just like Kim Novak. Well, without the movie’s unsettling storyline. I’ve got my own unsettling storyline to grapple with.
Max looks tired, I guess from all the driving, but I want to see Alcatraz before the last ferry leaves, so I drag him outside and we catch an Uber, taking us to Pier 39 where we walk along the embarcadero to the ferry.
With the sun on my shoulders, the air surprisingly warm and smelling of the ocean, I feel good. Buoyant, almost. As if feelings that have long since been dormant are starting to fizz inside me, like bubbles in fine champagne.
I glance up at Max walking beside me, feeling that rush intensify. How nice it is just to be with someone, checking out a new city, feeling like we’ve got the world stretching out in front of us. I know that I almost died last night, I know our relationship feels like it’s edging toward complicated in some ways, I know that everything in his life is topsy turvy right now.
But just for the moment, it feels good. Better than good.
It feels normal.
I eye his hand, wondering if I should hold it. I know that it does something good for him, recharges him, and he does seem tired and almost melancholy. But, let’s face it, I ain’t no holy roller—it also does something for me.
Without even looking at me, he reaches out and grabs my hand, hot energy channeling from his palm to mine, shivers traveling up my arm and down my spine, setting off all the happy fireworks in my head.
And that’s how we walk through San Francisco, holding hands, not needing to explain it or analyze what it means (I mean, would he be holding my hand if he didn’t get some kind of boost from me? Probably not. Also, what am I, eight? Since when did holding hands become a big deal?).
Okay, so maybe I am overanalyzing this.
Just a little.
By the time we get to the ferry, Max seems to have brightened up a bit, back to his easy going, jokey self.
“First time to Alcatraz?” I ask him as we board the small ferry, crammed full of people. “I mean as a tourist. I’m guessing you weren’t imprisoned here, though who knows with you.”
He smiles. “Yep. Having a lot of firsts with you.”
I grin, feeling pleased as punch. “That means that you’ve got a lot of world you haven’t seen yet, lot of things you haven’t done. Nice to have things to look forward to.”
Darkness washes across his eyes for a moment and he looks away. “That I do.”
I try not to ponder his mood swings as the ferry leaves the dock, swaying with the waves.
Alcatraz is pretty cool. We follow the group, guided audiobooks in our ears as we wander around the cells. We don’t get to go everywhere, but what we do see is spooky as hell. I mean, both Max and I saw a ghost standing in the corner of one of the cells, so yeah, there’s a lot of history in this place.
But I’m not Perry and ghosts don’t bother me or Max much. We’re the demon hunters here.
Anyway, we got to see a lot of behind-the-film scenes too, like blood splatters still left on the ceiling in the medical room, courtesy of them filming The Rock with Nic Cage and Sean Connery here, which then meant I got to do both my Cage and Connery impressions for Max until he told me to stop.
“Where do you want to eat tonight?” I ask Max as we’re crammed in the seats at the back of the boat, riding the ferry back to the city.
“Don’t matter much to me,” he says. “Though I think I need a nap when I get back.”
I grab his hand and pick it up, energy charging. “This doesn’t help?”
He gives me a steady look. “You don’t have to do that, Ada.”
