“That’s my penguin.”
“Gerald decides for himself. Ask him.”
She looks at Gerald. Gerald looks back with his far-apart eyes. She snatches him anyway.
Twenty-One
Piper sings like no one’s listening.
She’s been at it since we left the motel. Somewhere in the middle ofDreams, she decided that self-consciousness was for people who weren’t currently fugitive brides and that I wasn’t present enough to matter.
ByThe Chain, she’s fully committed. One hand is curled on her knee, the other wrapped around her coffee cup. Her head is tilted back against the seat, eyes fixed on the morning road through the windshield.
She has a good voice.
We’re an hour away from the last stop, heading south on the 101. The hills are on the left, and the Pacific is somewhere to the right beyond the headlands, flashing blue between gaps in the land. The morning is clear, and the road is straight.
Piper is winding down as the track fades, reaching forward to turn the volume down a notch.
“So,” she starts. “My notebook. The one I’ve been using to catalog all the mess currently residing in my head? It’s in the trunk.”
“Okay.”
“Do you mind being my confessional for a minute?”
I give her a sidelong glance before answering. “Sure.”
“You won’t judge me?”
I look back at the asphalt. “I ran away with you. We’re past judgment.”
I feel the weight of whatever is coming organize itself in the cabin. I keep my hands steady on the wheel and give myself a silent order:Whatever she says, do not react. Don’t make her feel bad for saying it.She doesn’t need my feelings right now.
She pulls her knee up onto the seat and takes a breath. “Ezra didn’t like Fleetwood Mac.”
I stare at the road.
What. The. Fuck.
I hear it. I process it. I run the data back through my head.
“He didn’t like Fleetwood Mac?” I repeat slowly because I’m not sure I heard right.
She throws her hands up. “I know.”
“What the fuck?”
“He said they were overrated.”
Something happens in my chest cavity that I don’t have a name for.
Overrated.
“Piper,” I say.
“I know.”
“You listened toRumourson repeat for six weeks when you were eighteen.”
